Page 82 of When the Time Is Right
“Right,” I mumbled, releasing the top of the door. Without looking at her again, I extended the keys in her direction. “I’m gonna wait in the car.”
She took the keys, her fingers brushing mine, lingering longer than necessary. “Hudson, please.”
Gripping the back of my neck, I stared over the top of her head. “Please what, Lex? Go ahead. Ask me anything. You know I’ll do it. But before you tell me this isn’t a big deal again, I want you to really think about it and be sure. You know the man I am. You know there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. So if you can honestly stand there and say this is not something I should be worried about, then go ahead and ask me to let this go.”
“Hudson,” she begged.
I gave her back my gaze, staring deep into the emerald greens that in one way or another had owned me for the majority of my life, and repeated, “Ask me.”
Her entire face crumbled, and a sob shook her shoulders, but she respected me enough not to lie.
I needed a few minutes to collect my thoughts, so I left her there to lock up. Not even climbing behind the wheel of the Chevelle soothed the bullet ricocheting inside me.
Truth be told, I wasn’t mad at Lex. I was pissed all to hell and back at myself for not having seen this coming. I’d sat on that beach with her when we went to pick up Jack. She’d felt closer to him there. I’d been so damn wrapped up in suddenly having feelings for her that I’d let that little tidbit of information sail right over my head.
I should have been able to read her better.
I should have been there.
I should have asked her if she needed to talk.
She put on a good show, but I’d always known she hated when anyone worried about her. Especially me. She didn’t want to be a burden, but I never could get through to her that loving someone—being there for them—wasn’t a hardship.
It was just that, now, I was worried about us. No, strike that. I was worried about me. But this wasn’t about how my heart felt. I hadn’t gone into this relationship blind. She had baggage. For fuck’s sake, I’d been holding that baggage for almost a decade. It wasn’t fair to assume that it had all disappeared now that I was in love with her.
This was likely why people warned you not to date your friends. Though it wasn’t like I’d had a choice in the matter, either. My heart had fallen in love with that crazy woman long before my head ever had.
I blew out a ragged breath when I saw her approaching in the rearview mirror.
She opened the passenger side door and shoved the cover for the Chevelle into the back seat before quietly sliding inside.
“Hey,” I rasped as she clicked her seat belt.
Her red-rimmed eyes immediately jumped to mine, the tiniest flicker of hope dancing within them.
I caught her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Just tell me that’s it. Tell me there are no more surprises. No more secrets. Tell me we got that out in the open and now we can figure out how to move forward.”
She lifted our joined hands and gently rubbed my knuckles across her lips. “We need to go for a ride, Hudson.”
Fuck.The old farmhouse looked tragic.
Frankly, the old farmhouse was tragic.
I hadn’t been out there for years, and it seemed the lawn care company I’d been paying hadn’t kept up the property like they’d assured me they had. And like it had since the accident, being there only caused me dread.
Dread for the memories we’d planned to make there.
Dread for memories I’d made alone instead.
Dread to face what had happened, and even more for admitting to myself I hadn’t really faced anything at all.
Hudson cut the engine and let me have a moment. Or maybe he was taking one for himself. He’d been there. He knew what the place almost was and could’ve been. He had to be shocked at what we were sitting in front of.
Silently, his hand crossed the seat and linked with mine.
After Brenden died, all I saw was him out there. From the dirt track he’d cut into the pasture to the shop he’d dreamed of fixing up and making his full-time garage. The swing he’d bought me to sweeten the deal. Even, yes, the fucking pond. That farm had been so alive.
We had been so alive.
Now, it was just there.
Around the lump in my throat, I said, “I was so angry when he bought this place. He’d just started making the big money he’d always dreamed of, and I’d told him to save it. That, when I finished my last year of school, we could talk about buying a house.” I laughed, but there was little humor in it and the space in the car started to disappear and feel tight. In true Lex Lawson fashion, I made an awkward joke while trying to get a grip on the flood of emotions claiming me. “But I suppose I have a type, because the men in my life rarely listen.” My quip fell flat.
