Abyss (Elements of Rapture Book 4)

16. Kavi

KAVI

“Idon’t know why, but I can’t see you working on a fishing charter.”

Hudson dips a piece of his sourdough into his bowl of chowder, popping it into his mouth before lifting a shoulder. “Sometimes it feels like a lifetime ago, and sometimes like it was yesterday.”

I watch the way his long fingers hold the top of his spoon, the expensive watch around his wrist picking up the lighting from the restaurant before he scoops a bite into his mouth. He’s looking down at his bowl, his thick brown lashes fluttering.

Is it normal for a woman to notice things like thick brows and curled lashes on a man? I have no idea, but it’s clear that I do when it comes to this particular man.

He confuses me.

Like the power and strength he exudes, as compared to the soft and tender side of him—the side that apologizes and cares.

His dismissal stung. The way he tossed me aside with a rebuke in front of his brother today made me feel more insignificant than I’d ever felt around him, even as compared to the way he’d treated me on my first couple of days.

Maybe it stung more because I thought we’d come to an understanding, a mutual respect over the past few days. But with the way he spoke to me, I wondered if I’d imagined it.

Then there he was, standing under my damn umbrella, demanding—not for the first time—my forgiveness. And though I was reluctant at first, I decided that chasing me down and begging me to listen meant something. Sure, he was still a colossal porcupine with hemorrhoids, but at least he had the decency to acknowledge it.

And amidst all that prickliness, I glimpsed a soft heart reflecting through his eyes and embedded in his words.

So, true to form, I caved.

Again.

Because, as I was starting to realize, holding a grudge against Hudson Case has never been easy.

“I guess I just can’t see you with windblown hair, wearing a weathered shirt, running around handling fishing gear.” I imagine a younger version of Hudson with sun-kissed skin and freckles around his nose. “Not when, only until very recently, I hadn’t seen you in anything besides a suit.”

I run my spoon through my soup, letting the warmth permeating off the surface fill my senses and drown out the thoughts of Hudson in his gray sweatpants. As hungry as I am, my mouth seems to be watering with that image alone.

His responsive smirk tells me he’s caught something on my face—something I wish he hadn’t. He leans over the table between us. “Why do I get the feeling you’d like to see me without my suit?”

My cheeks heat, but I take a quick bite of my soup, hoping to hide the blush I know is creeping in. “You wish, old man. Maybe not having seen the sun in so long is doing things to your head.”

Hudson tilts his head back, his eyes hooded. “There’s definitely someone doing things to my head.”

My blush deepens and I wipe the corner of my mouth with my napkin, changing the direction of the conversation before the temperature between us gets any higher. “So, both you and Jett worked on the charter together, and then he started working with you at Case Geo?”

Hudson nods, taking a deep breath as if to clear his mind of whatever it was he and his brother spoke about today. “He helped me build the company in a lot of ways, but apparently, he wanted more. We also own a restaurant together.”

I squint at him. “You mean Carl’s Catch? The one you fired me from?”

His lips twitch. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe I’d lost my senses after being pegged by a flying cork? Or possibly it was the cold water in my lap.”

I hide my face behind my palms, cringing at the memory of the day. “Touché. It was one disaster after another when the staff decided the newbie was going to be responsible for the boss’s table.” I raise a brow. “Much like your staff at Case Geo, they’re all a little scared of you, you know that, right?”

Hudson looks out the darkened window next to our table, watching people walk by, lights from the nearby establishments glimmering off their umbrellas. “I’m beginning to think change might be necessary.”

“Change to the staff?” God, I hope he’s not thinking about firing people.

He shakes his head. “No. I mean me. Jett said something similar today. I know I’m a harsh critic; clearly, not easy to please.”

I gasp, feigning shock. “You? A harsh critic? Why, I would never use such foul language to describe you, Mr. Case! Especially not after the way you red-lined the entire document I sent last week, or when you told me I was ‘used to accepting mediocrity’ when I didn’t want to pay the astronomical rent for the apartments we toured together.”

He sighs, leaning back in his chair. “You’re right. I’m a jerk. I’m sorry . . . again.”

“Well, you’re definitely improving your apology game.” I smile. “We’re good. Madison had already warned me about you, so I knew what I was signing up for. So, are you going to accept Jett’s proposal for RCS?”

Hudson had updated me on why Jett had come by, proposing that Case Geo contract out with Jett’s company for extra manpower on the project.

“What do you think I should do?”

I nibble my bottom lip. “I don’t know how deep your trust issues are with Jett, nor do I know him personally, but given what I do know—through you and Belinda—I get the feeling he’s not the villain you may have made him out to be in your head.”

Hudson starts to say something, and I lift my hand, letting him know I’m not finished.

“I get that the way he left came as a shock for you, but he tucked his tail between his legs and showed up to see you today, didn’t he? He apologized for the way things went down between you two and said he missed you—”

“Yes, but—”

“I think it’s unfair of you to ask for forgiveness for your own mistakes but not allot the same to others. Especially a brother you clearly care about; someone who was a huge part of your life, someone you helped raise.”

Hudson stares at me for a long moment, eyes soft. “It seems you and I have that in common . . . younger siblings we love.”

I chuckle, nodding. “My brother can be a shithead, too, but no one could replace him, either.”

“Tell me more about you. Have you always lived in the Bay Area?”

I shift in my seat. “Born and raised. I live in a town called Porcelain Castle, which, let me tell you, is anything but a porcelain castle. Most people in that town have probably never touched porcelain. So, humble beginnings and all that compared to the high-rise I live in with my boss now.” I wink at him.

“My dad worked for a small utilities company for a good portion of his life, but the pay was meager at best. Mom worked, too, but again, their salaries barely covered the household expenses.” I smile, running my hands down my thighs. “But the one thing we never lacked was laughter and love. I grew up with a lot of love, despite not having extravagant meals or my own bedroom for a good portion of my childhood.”

Hudson listens, something I’ve noticed he’s rather good at. “I know your dad passed away recently. What happened?”

My chest aches from a wound I know will never truly heal. “Doctors said it was sudden cardiac arrest during the night. He went to bed as normal one night, but never woke up.”

Hudson frowns. “I’m sorry, Kavi.”

I swirl the last bits of broth in my bowl with my spoon, blinking away the mist from my eyes. “Thank you.”

Hudson leans back in his chair. “As hard as it may be for you to believe, I grew up much the same way. My mom passed away when I was young, so Dad raised Jett and me for the most part on his own. And though he had the fishing charter, there were years where we barely scraped by financially.”

“Well, would you look at that?” I ask, crossing my arms on the table and smiling at him to lighten the mood. “I guess we do have a few things in common.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up, not giving me the satisfaction of a full smile, of course. “I bet we have more in common than you think. It just depends on the layers you want to peel back.”

I twist my mouth, thinking. “Okay, so instead of things like favorite color or music, let’s go deeper. I want to know more about my cranky old boss.”

He nods. “Only if you answer the same questions.”

“Deal.” I tap my lips, thinking about what I want to ask first. “What’s the accomplishment you’re most proud of in your life?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Madison. Raising her is, by far, what I’m most proud of. My dad and Jett both helped me the best they could, especially when I was attending college, but for the most part, it was just me and her.”

I can’t help the smile that stretches on my face, my eyes misting at the pride in his features. It’s obvious how hard it must have been to raise a child as a teen, but he did it. “And she turned out perfect, Hudson. She’s one of the kindest, most incredible people I’ve met. Not to mention, she’s so smart and hard-working.”

“You can tell her that she gets all those qualities from her dad the next time you see her.” He winks at me, and my heart skips. “She’ll love that.”

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to do that,” I lie.

Reading my sarcasm correctly, he waves a hand at me. “Your turn.”

I shrug. “My degrees, I think. As you know, going to college when things are tight at home can be challenging. But thankfully, I had a scholarship and financial aid to make it work, along with parents who encouraged me to do so.”

Hudson clears his throat. “Your paintings are . . . incredible.”

I smile. “You went through them?”

He looks a little embarrassed. “After the movers came, I had them set it in that room and, well—”

“I’m just giving you a hard time. I don’t mind.” My smile withers. “Painting saved me. It got me through some of the worst times in my life. It’s also the basis of what I plan to give back to the world.”

“I remember you telling Silas and,” his jaw ticks, “Corbin that you wanted to work with kids who had been abused or bullied.” His eyes search mine. “Is there a reason you’re so specialized?”

It’s my turn to look out the window, though I don’t even notice the rain or the streetlamps flickering. “My experiences are entangled with my art. They’re one and the same in many ways. Every painting is a diary entry. I want to teach kids that they have other means of speaking their minds, even if it’s taking their anger and frustrations out on a blank canvas.”

Hudson intertwines his fingers together on the table, his eyes lingering on my arm. “Are you ever going to tell me how you got that scar?”

I drop my arms, hiding my scar beneath the table. Damn, the man is way too astute for anyone’s good. “Maybe one day, but not today. Anyway, it’s my turn to ask you a question.”

He smiles, letting the topic go.

“What’s something you’re afraid of that most people aren’t?”

He circles his thumbs around each other. I can tell he has an answer to my question, but he’s wondering how to phrase it. Finally looking up, he says, “Finding someone worth changing for, only for her to realize I’m not worth the trouble.”

Whoa.

His unexpected vulnerability catches me off guard. Is this the same man who walks around with his heavily armored heart, wielding a razor-sharp tongue and bullet-proof standards? “I’m guessing you’re speaking from experience?”

He shakes his head. “No, I haven’t experienced it, and that’s what scares me.” He pauses. “What about you? What’s something you’re afraid of that others might not be?”

I swallow as familiar tentacles of unease threaten to bind me. It’s not often that I open up to people. “The dark.”

He has no idea how much I appreciate the fact that he doesn’t laugh, that he doesn’t even question it. “Is that why you have a trail of nightlights along the hall to your room?”

I huff out a humorless laugh. “I used to sleep with the lights completely on, but I manage with just nightlights now. I know there are probably children all over the world who are afraid of the dark, and most adults grow out of it—or they pretend to, at least. But of the various fears I’ve learned to overcome in my life, that one has been the hardest. I hate the dark.”

A waiter comes to our table to ask if he can take away our empty dishes, distracting us from our thoughts. When he leaves, Hudson says, “Okay, my turn to ask.”

“Okay.”

“What’s with all the fruit paraphernalia?” At my giggle, he continues, and I appreciate the way he’s taken our conversation to a lighter place. “The earrings, the shirts, the strawberries on your bedsheets . . .”

I raise my brow again. “First, you’re sifting through my artwork, and now you’re inspecting my linen? You’re like a cranky, modern-day Goldilocks, Mr. Case.”

For the first time since our paths crossed, Hudson’s cheeks turn pink, and he stumbles with his response. He looks so boyish, I’m tempted to take a picture of him. “I-I wasn’t inspecting—”

I lift both of my hands. “Hey, you have a right to know if a black-market fruit dealer is living with you.”

Hudson chuckles softly, and I almost forget what he asked me.

“A few of my happiest memories involve my childhood best friend,” I say, as some of those memories flutter through my mind. “Every year, we’d coerce my parents into dropping us off at the nearby fruit orchards and pick strawberries and oranges . . . even kiwi one year. We’d walk through the orchards for hours, laughing and filling our stomachs with way more fruit than anyone should eat in a day. And if they had a little shop, I’d buy a keepsake, like a pair of earrings or a shirt, from there to remember it.”

My eyes collide with Hudson’s, catching a mix of something I can’t quite pinpoint—tenderness or wonder, perhaps?

“What?”

He shakes his head imperceptibly. “A lifetime would be too short . . .”

My heart races for reasons beyond me. “Too short for what?”

Before Hudson can answer, the waiter reappears with our check and the moment dissipates, and I never end up hearing the rest of his sentence.