Downfall by S.D. Wasley

  ****

  The odd thing that happened over the next few days was that Jude became much less open and affectionate than before. He was almost guarded, as though I were dangerous. Me―Francesca Caravaggio, the saint whisperer’s daughter―dangerous! Had Cain said something to him again? Maybe it was no longer okay that we were dating. Perhaps Cain was going to throw me out of the Gaunt House group, or something. Jude didn’t ask me to go out with him at all that week. He phoned twice but both times the conversation was full of uneasy silences. I dropped around to see him one afternoon. His face lit up with badly-disguised happiness when he caught sight of me in his parents’ front yard. I sat in his kitchen, fiddling with an electric can opener on the bench while he made us sandwiches.

  “What did he say to you? Did he warn you off me?” I asked and Jude didn’t answer because he knew exactly what I meant. I sighed. “Maybe he’s right. It’s better we don’t go out together anymore. You wouldn’t want to get attached because Cain will probably kick me out soon. It’s best you do as he says.”

  “He won’t kick you out,” said Jude. “And he can’t tell me how to feel, either,” he added. “No one can control that.”

  “Well, best you don’t feel anything,” I said. “Just in case.”

  Jude shrugged. “I won’t tell you how I feel if you don’t want me to but that won’t stop me feeling it.”

  “Are you saying ...?” I trailed off with a frown.

  “That I’m already pretty crazy about you?” Jude flashed me a grin. “I just said I wouldn’t tell you how I feel.”

  “Then don’t,” I said, flustered.

  “Okay.”

  Without warning the electric can opener I was messing with buzzed into life, making us both jump. I couldn’t help a laugh at Jude’s wide eyes.

  “That thing hasn’t worked for months,” he stammered.