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Shoving Jude away, I climb off his lap. No longer giving a fuck about whatever he has to say and ready to punch him in the balls if he tries to stop me.
Something is wrong with my baby.
The club blurs around me as I rush up to the bar. Expecting me, Will hands me the cordless phone over the counter without a word.
“Sonya? What’s wrong?” I rush out, hoping I’m over-worrying. That it’s really nothing.
“Eden, you know I wouldn’t bother you at work, but something is wrong with Abel,” Sonya says apologetically.
In the background I can hear Abel crying.
My heart falls to my feet. “What’s wrong?”
Sonya sighs. “He started running a fever twenty minutes ago and he won’t stop crying. I can’t make him happy.”
“Shit. Okay. I’ll be there in a few.” Hanging up the phone, I hand it back to Will.
All my focus going to what I need to do to get out of here, I turn and collide with something rock-hard.
Grabbing me and steadying me, Jude scowls down at me. “What’s wrong?”
I knock his hands off. “I need to leave. Abel is sick…”
The second I try to step around him, though, he grabs my arm to stop me. “I’ll drive you.”
So much anger surges up inside me at being stopped, I practically shake with the need to tell him off.
But I don’t have time.
As much as I hate it, I could use his help.
Riding with him will be quicker than calling a car or taking the bus.
Nodding, I yank my arm back and rush to the dressing room. Sensing him on my heels the entire way.
Silently he watches me grab my bag from my locker.
Which is good because I don’t think I could take any more of his craziness right now.
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I walk out of the dressing room without getting changed.
“This way,” Jude says and grabs me again the second I step outside the side door.
Holding my hand, he leads me over to the passenger side of a black two-door Audi taking up two spaces.
I don’t know why, maybe it’s because my nerves are going crazy, but the second he opens the door I feel the need to point out, “You park like an asshole.”
Jude grins, flashing his teeth at me as I slide into the seat. “I was in a hurry to get here.”
Closing the door, he jogs around the front of the car then slides into the driver’s seat.
“Does Abel get sick a lot?” he asks as he starts the car up and gives the engine a quick rev.
Buckling up my seatbelt, I shake my head. “No. Almost never.”
Nodding, he throws the car into reverse. He backs us out so hard and fast, the tires squeal in protest.
Grabbing onto the door handle to keep myself from being flung around, I shoot him a look.
