Page 92 of All the Beautiful Things
“For the guy who protected you when I wasn’t there? Fuck yes.”
He meant it. He meant every word of it. I never could have dreamed I’d have anyone look at me with respect after what I’d been through. But there was Hudson. Strong and steady as any man could be with a protective streak Josh would like.
“I think my brother would have liked you.”
“I would have liked him.”
I had no doubt that was true.
* * *
He heldme while I cried until the water turned cold and there was no way I was listening to his tale of that woman in cold water, so we climbed out. Hudson first, so he could dry off and hand me a towel from a drying rack he had on the wall.
“Holy crap, this is warm.”
“It’s a heated holder.”
“A heated… damn. Even my family never had one of those. This is nice.” I hugged the towel to me, letting the heat seep into my bones while Hudson chuckled and went to his bedroom.
He came back with sweatpants that would be way too large on me and a shirt that would hang to my knees. “Get dried off. Want another drink?”
I’d only had half of my first drink and the ice was long melted, the margarita probably warm. “Yeah. A small one, though?”
I didn’t want to drink too much.
“Good. Trust me, you’re going to need it.”
I’d learned a lot in the AA and Al-Anon classes I was required to attend, and I knew using alcohol as a crutch to deal with stress could lead to dangerous roads. I also learned alcoholism and drug addictions tended to run in families. If one became easily addicted, it was more likely others could. Based on my mom’s constant drinking and then Josh’s I was worried to ever drink too much now. I’d had years to think about it.
Just this once, I’d allow it.
While he went and refilled our glasses, I changed into the clothes he provided and headed back to his room. He had a small sitting area beneath the windows, two chairs separated by a circular round table with a lighted lamp. And the bed.
I chose the chairs, and right as I fell into one, tucking my feet in under me for comfort, Hudson returned.
He gave me a look and shook his head as he took the other chair.
“What?”
“Girls. You always sit like that. Why is that?”
I glanced down at my body and frowned. What had gotten into him?
“With your feet.” He pointed at my legs and swirled a finger in the air. “All tucked into a ball. Guys can’t do that and I’m not sure we would, but women, no matter the age always sit like that.”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “It’s comfy.”
He fell into the chair next to me, shaking his head in that way he did when I amused him until he took the first sip of his drink. “Nina.”
In my head, I nicknamed her Cruella. Not nice, but with the way he said her name and talked to her, I still figured it fit.
“I started dating Nina after college. Our families used to be really close, so we were always together. When we started dating, it felt like the natural thing to do.”
“Why’d you break up?”
“It was after Melissa’s death.”
He went on to tell me the whole story. How Melissa dying made him realize he didn’t love her, not enough to stay with her. That she tried to get him back for a year.
