He’d lived in New Orleans for five years and never once remembered it being this cold. Not cold enough to snow at least. There was a couple of winters that he thought his fingers were going to freeze off walking from his dorm to his classes, but there had been no snow involved. The coffee in his hands kept him warm. The heating in the house did a great job, but it was just too cold—the chill continued to creep in. The world outside was gray and lifeless. He shivered. The silence in the house and the chill added to his restlessness. Slater had left early that morning to run some errands. He hadn’t waited for Jude to get up. But he’d left a note. He’d never left a note before. And he’d never given Jude his cell number before either. The bike was still tucked up next to the house under the tarp, so Jude figured he’d taken a taxi. Not his business. If the team hadn’t lost last Sunday they would have played tomorrow, and he would have been home alone anyway with Will being at practice all day.
