Page 110 of All the Beautiful Things
I’d never been around a family who was so deeply and genuinely loved and all of it made me cry silly, happy, sappy tears.
My emotional well should have been long dried up. And yet there I was, crying again.
I swiped the tears away and groaned. “What if he dies?”
And why was it so upsetting? Just last night I’d been so proud of myself for writing them a letter and putting them behind me. This man hadn’t done anything good for me in my life.
“Come here.” Hudson held me, cradled in his body, and enveloped me in his strength while I cried out my fears and my worries until there was nothing left in me.
I was so close to moving on from them.
A thick lump edged in my throat as I tried to settle myself.
“What a sucky end to my best Christmas ever.”
It wasn’t even my best Christmas since I was in prison. Or since I was a teenager. It was simply my best Christmas. Where I was surrounded with people who shared their love and laughter in equal measure, gave it freely to everyone who stepped through their doors. I’d spent the entire day feeling so blessed to be a part of this family, which had in turn, made me think of Josh. Where I then cried because Melissa was right that day in the prison when I poured my heart and soul out to her.
I should have had a dad like David.
I should have had a family like this.
Josh and I both should have.
As much as it sucked we were deprived that, as much as I hated Josh never got to experience it, I was so damn thankful I had it now there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that could make me turn my back on any of it, or them.
I squeezed my eyes closed, pressed my finger and thumb to the bridge of my nose to settle myself.
My father had never been a dad, not in the ways it mattered, and my mom had been too weak to protect her children or herself.
Why was I still spending so much energy trying to get them to love me, when I should feel nothing for them but pity?
“Are you okay?” Hudson asked, eventually, once my tears stopped and I quit clinging to him like an octopus.
“I’m exhausted.” From the day, the year… hell, the last eight of them. “I want warm pajamas, a fireplace, and maybe some hot chocolate.”
Hudson pressed his face to my throat and laughed. “I don’t know if I have the hot chocolate but I can give you the rest.”
I sighed, “That will have to do then.”
* * *
He mademe feel cared for and he made me feel beautiful, but I realized once we returned to our building, and Hudson walked us to my apartment and not his, that one of the things I loved most about Hudson, was that he didn’t only make me feel things. He had an uncanny sense of when he needed to just let me be, and in doing that, he allowed me to be myself.
I didn’t have to check my emotions or my responses and I didn’t have to keep my guard up or look over my shoulder to see how my reactions would affect others.
I could simply be me.
And that was a gift I’d gone far too long without experiencing.
My apartment was dark and cold, it lacked the fireplace I asked for and it lacked the Christmas decorations I’d done in Hudson’s apartment and yet without asking, it was like he knew I needed the comforts of my own belongings. He slipped my keys from my hand and unlocked my door, opening it and guiding me in with his hand at my lower back.
My protector, my helper, and my comforter all wrapped up with a firm, warm hand on my back, guiding me and taking care of me.
It helped to wash away the grief and sadness of the day and highlighted the beauty and the joy.
I’d found what I wanted for so long—acceptance.
That alone made me want to cry again.
