He nodded, staring intently at the drawing.

“See these branches in the center near the leaves?” I said and took a deep breath. “I inked some hidden letters that will only be meaningful to you.”

His eyes rapidly scanned the page. “What do you mean? I can’t see anything.”

My finger traced over the initials embedded in the twist of the branches. “M, J, and S—for Maya and Judith and Sam.”

His breath hitched in his throat as he stared hard at the letters that represented his childhood.

“It’s okay,” I said, suddenly wondering what in the hell I was thinking. “You don’t have to agree—”

“Yes. God, yes.” His fingers reached up to slide across my chin. “I want you to do it.”

“I figured it was a way for them to always be with you,” I whispered.

He tugged my face toward him for a thorough kiss. “Do it. Please.”

I nodded and he lay down on the table, gratitude and wonder alight in his eyes.

As usual, he tilted his head to the side and watched me work. Though it was unnerving at the onset of our relationship, now it just felt comforting. I had no idea what our future held, but I felt like I was cherished.

“Tell me a memory about this tree.”

“It was a great oak that sat along the back of our property,” he said. “There were several on the small farm, but this one was our favorite. It was right outside the barn where we had a couple of cows and horses.”

I continued working as I listened.

“Judith and I would go out into the yard and play. She was always sick—wheezing, coughing—so on her good days it felt nice to be with her,” he said. I didn’t know all the ins and outs of his sister’s disease, but I did hear somewhere that the mortality rate was high. “She couldn’t climb the tree because she was small and weak, so she always dared me to do it. And the higher I got, the more she marveled at me.”

I looked up and smirked at him, knowing the direction this was heading. “So it became a challenge to get higher?”

“Exactly.”

“Were you scared?”

“Blimey, no,” he said. “It was exhilarating.”

I arched my eyebrow. “Figured so, Mr. Daredevil.”

“When I was up there, I felt on top of the world, like I was in control of my own destiny,” he said, and then bit his lip. “Sounds like a bit of melodrama, for sure.”

“Nah,” I said. “I get it. Especially when your life spins out of balance. Everything goes to shit. Holding on to some measure of control feels . . . grounding.”

“Exactly,” he said, a smile tipping his lips. “I liked our tree best in the fall when all of the leaves had fallen off; only a couple of stragglers remained clinging for dear life. I could see the entire village from up there. Felt like I had a bird’s-eye view of the world.”

“Is that why this tree on your back hardly has any leaves?”

He nodded. “It feels a bit like a new beginning. Sweeping away the old and yearning for something new.”

“Makes it sound like you have hope, Jude,” I said, cautious with my observation. “I wouldn’t have been clear about that a few weeks ago.”

“Hope can feel bloody dangerous sometimes,” he said, gazing into my eyes. “Like an empty wish. Know what I mean?”

“I do know, “I whispered. “I happen to have enough hope to go around for both of us.”

His eyes softened and just as his mouth tilted into an exquisite grin, there was a rumble of thunder, which in the enclosed room sounded more like a tiny earthquake. I adjusted my fingers on his skin.

“Storm coming,” I said, my chest irrationally compressing, like it always did.

Jude’s gaze slid up to meet mine. “Tell me about that . . .”

“About . . .”

“You know what I’m asking.”

“Not sure it makes much sense.” I shrugged. “Rain has seemed to accompany all of my dismal days. My mom’s death, my grandfather’s funeral, and the night David drove off from that party.”

Jude said nothing, as if willing me to continue.

“I followed him in the rain. He was so pissed at me. Plus, he’d been drinking.”

“You’d been arguing about something?”

“About him being in the closet,” I said, feeling the same kind of shame build and set in my shoulders. “He was flirting with a girl at the party as I stood by and watched.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Cory,” he said, and then his eyes widened as if he’d had a revelation of his own. “You know if I could, I would . . .”

“No, don’t,” I said, cutting him off. “I know this is different. You’re not purposefully trying to hide me. To hide us.”

“I’d be proud to kiss you in public,” he said. “And maybe someday I will.”

I shut my eyes wondering what that would feel like for a moment.

“Cory,” Jude whispered, his fingers slipping across my stubble. “How’s that for a bit of hope?”

I opened my lids and held his gaze, my lips curling into a small smile.

Then I took a deep breath and got back to work.

“I’ll be bringing Patch home in a couple of days,” I said after another beat of silence.

“Bet Emmy is relieved.”

“She is and if she doesn’t stop thanking me, I’ll have to tape her mouth closed,” I said and he smiled. “You okay with me bringing Chopper over tomorrow afternoon?”