Page 190 of Bridesmaid By Chance
“She, uh, she said she was fine and could handle it,” I answer, feeling my balls start to shrivel into dust.
“She’s fine? She’s not fucking fine, Hudson. She shouldn’t be out there alone. Why the fuck would you just leave her there? She’s never traveled to London before, and it’s a big fucking city.”
Hardy looks at me, eyes wide, clearly just as terrified as me.
“Look, man.” I tug on my hair. “I appreciate how protective you are over your sister, Hardy and I are the same way with Haisley, but there is a time where you kind of have to let her do her own thing.” Because Sloane is more than capable of doing things on her own. She’s more than capable of taking care of herself. I’ve seen it firsthand.
“Don’t tell me how to handle my sister.” He points to his chest. “I’m the one who needs to protect her. She doesn’t have parents?—”
“Neither do we,” I say, pointing to me and Hardy. “Sure, they exist and they’re breathing, but they have no problem sitting back and watching us fail; they have no problem trying to destroy everything we’ve been able to create. I appreciate you and your need to protect your sister, but she chose to go to London for work. You told me to treat her like an employee, so I treated her like an employee.”
The stress has gotten the better of me because I know and Hardy knows that’s not entirely the truth. She didn’t choose to be a bridesmaid; I forced it on her. Sure, she could have said no, but I made it hard for her to decline. And sure, she chose to go to London, but she also had to becausethat’s where the wedding is and because I needed her to be at the club with me…after we got married. And yes, getting married was her choice, but I didn’t stop it from happening, I went along for the ride because it benefitted me.
The whole thing is so convoluted. So wrong.
But given the amount of stress that I’m under, I can’t seem to force myself to take any of the blame at the moment.
Jude looks off to the side and exhales. “Fuck, you’re right. I did tell you that.” He pushes his hand through his hair. “Sorry, I think I’m just bundling up my emotions and taking them out on you. Both of my sisters have kept me out of the loop on things. The other day I went by the house and saw a bunch of empty boxes and paint cans by the trash, and I wondered what they were doing and why the hell they didn’t say anything to me or ask for my help. When I tried contacting Stacey, she didn’t return my call. I feel like they’re hiding something from me and…well, being in London was one of them. Not your problem though.” He blows out another heavy breath. “Okay, I think I’ll try contacting her. Thanks, man.”
Fuck do I feel guilty.
I feel like the worst human on earth actually.
Because I know their silence has everything to do with me.
“Sure.” I swallow down the lump forming in my throat.
“Okay, I’m headed out. I’ll let Haisley know you two say hi.”
“Thanks,” Hardy and I say at the same time. Once we hear him leave, Hardy casually shuts the door and then turns toward me, sheer panic in his eyes.
“Dude.”
“I know. I fucking know,” I say, dragging both hands down my face. “Fuck, that was bad. That was really bad.”
“You have me looped into this now. Like…if he finds out about you two, he’s going to be livid, especially after having this conversation. He will murder the both of us.”
“Christ, I know, Hardy!” I yell and then stand from my chair, my nervous energy getting the best of me. “Fuck.” I tilt my head back and try to take calming breaths. After a few seconds, I say, “Let me get through these conversations with Dad, and then I can handle the Sloane situation.”
“Think you can wait that long?”
I nod. “Sloane won’t say anything. I know she won’t. I just have to get through the next twenty-four hours and then I’ll be able to handle the Sloane situation.”
“Hudson,” Hardy says, pulling my attention with the serious tone in his voice. “I’m counting on you, man.”
“I know, Hardy. I know.”
SLOANE
He’s such a motherfucker.
Like the motherest of all fuckers.
Why?
Because he has not corresponded with me once.
For all I know, he could be floating around in the Atlantic Ocean, having never made it to California. The common courtesy would be to send a quick text to let me know that he landed. Maybe let me know that he’s okay. I don’t know…maybe check up on me and make sure that I wasn’t run over by a cab because I was looking the wrong way while crossing the street.
