Page 35 of All the Beautiful Things
She’d placed me on her wall of people she loved.
Me. A convicted killer. And somehow, she wanted to see me every day. And Josh. It was overwhelming. Had taken everything in me to stay standing when Hudson showed it to me.
Tonight wasn’t about me. It was about him. It was about David. It was only that reminder that kept me steady.
By the time I dragged Hudson back to the living room, his hand holding mine so tightly as if in fear I’d float away if he let me go, only David remained. He was drinking another amber-liquid-filled glass and sitting in a chair, lamp on next to him, the rest of the house mostly darkened and utterly silent.
Brandon and Jenna had left, leaving him to speak to Hudson alone, I guessed, and when Hudson saw his dad in that chair, he dragged me right over to him.
He pulled me down to the couch where I was plastered to his side, met David’s gaze, and said, “Tell me everything. Swear to God, Dad. No more fucking secrets in this family.”
David nodded. Set down his glass and re-explained everything to Hudson he’d told me on Sunday.
For Hudson’s part, maybe because he’d been through something like this before, he remained stoic, unemotional. He asked questions, gritted his teeth when David told him he’d already tried radiation. My own heart squeezed when Hudson realized how long his dad hid this from him and he hadn’t noticed. Eventually, when he’d asked all the questions, listened to all the explanation, and I could tell he was at his limit, I squeezed his hands and suggested we head back home.
Now, Hudson was pulling into his parking spot in the underground garage. His hands gripped the steering so tightly I was in fear of it snapping in two.
“Are you okay?”
He huffed, a cold sound that sent shivers dancing up my arms until I rubbed them through my winter coat. “I don’t know what I am. Except tired.”
He looked it. It’d only been a few hours ago he walked into David’s home fresh-faced and handsome and smiling and now he looked ragged, like he’d run a marathon without proper training and on the verge of collapse.
I reached out and covered one of his hands with mine, prying strong fingers from the steering wheel. He glanced at my hand, uncurling his fingers and then he loosened them. His whole body reverberated with his pain and anger even as he visibly forced himself to relax.
“Come on.” I took his hand in mine and squeezed. “Let’s get you home.”
“Right.” He opened his door and as I went to do the same on my side, he stopped me, not letting go of my hand. “Thank you. For tonight. For being there.”
“You’re welcome, Hudson.” After tonight, I didn’t think I wanted to be anywhere else. I certainly didn’t want to be alone, either. But I knew what he meant. He was thankful I was willing to be with him. I doubted he’d even care if he knew I was agreeing so I didn’t have to sleep by myself.
Mostly.
Well, partly. I wanted to be there for him. I also knew the risk. Spending a night with Hudson again would open up my heart to him, and I still wasn’t certain I was ready to hand it to him again.
With a heavy sigh, he climbed out of the truck and I met him at the back where we walked close to each other, but not touching, all the way into the elevator and then into his loft on the top floor.
Darkness shrouded us as the door clicked shut. He’d pulled his curtains, blocking his view of the state’s capitol building and streetlights. A light flicked on and the pendulum lights over the kitchen island blinked to life.
I dropped my purse on the kitchen table.
Hudson scrubbed his hands through his hair and then shoved them down his face. “I didn’t think to ask if you needed to stop at your place first.”
“I’m fine.”
I scanned his apartment, unsure of what to do next. He wanted me with him, but did he need to talk? My hands twisted together in front of me and I stepped toward the coffee table where a week ago, I’d felt like he’d done the largest betrayal.
But now, it was muted behind the truth of David’s explanation and his upcoming fight.
Still, the same pain lashed through my veins as I remembered the last time I stood in this spot. The coffee stain gone, but the memory so vivid, it rushed back to me like it was that morning all over again.
“You’re still pissed,” he said, coming to where I stood and reading my mind probably easier than he knew his own.
“More still hurt, but yeah.”
But I didn’t hate him. Couldn’t. He’d somehow managed to stitch himself into what felt like the very fibers of my being.
“I know.” He shoved his hands to his hips and let them fall. “And I understand why, but for tonight, will you let me hold you? I know I don’t have the right to ask. But tonight…”
