Abyss (Elements of Rapture Book 4)

29. Hudson

HUDSON

My mouth opens and closes, my mind jumping from one chaotic thought to another as I struggle to process what I just read. But there’s no time for comprehension in the face of Kavi’s hurt and anger bearing down on my neck like a crushing weight.

So, I retreat to a familiar reaction, drawing upon my own anger and hurt to shield my fucking heart.

“Who the fuck is Nathan?” My expression hardens and the words escape through my tightened lips. It’s a defense mechanism I’ve honed over the years in the face of betrayal.

First Jett, then Kenna.

And now, Kavi.

Anger and remorse rise inside me as I take in Kavi’s pained expression.

I force myself not to stand to my full height because, even though I can’t quite read the look on her face—guilt, betrayal, hurt?—I hate the look of fear on her even more.

“Is he . . .” I swallow the bile threatening to rise within me as visions of her wrapped up in someone else’s arms literally has my breaths coming out ragged. “H-have you . . .” I take a breath and try again. “Have you been fucking someone else while we’ve been together?”

Her eyes well, bouncing against mine as she tries to wipe the look of astonishment from her face. I know my words are harsh, but fuck, I’m feeling like I’m being ripped apart right now.

Maybe I should have seen this coming. Maybe I should have known not to trust someone I’ve barely known for weeks.

But my soul didn’t seem to realize it had only been weeks.

My mind and heart are at war as intrusive thoughts cloud my brain.

She did accept all my offers rather quickly—the additional money, my credit card, the offer to move in with me.

Was I just a quick meal ticket while she was with someone else? Have I just become this joke where people think they can fuck their way into my life, only to fuck me and my company over and find something better?

Is this all my fault and I’m the idiot who refuses to learn? The idiot who keeps trusting the same kind of people?

But even the thought of her betraying me in such a despicable way has my heart ripping from its confines. It seems so unlike her; so unlike the caring and unapologetically genuine person she is.

And then another thought occurs to me.

She never asked for any of those things—not the money, the credit card, or the apartment. Not even the hospital or car bills I paid.

In fact, I don’t recall the last time I even had to pay off the credit card I gave her. She never made a single purchase on it. She argued with me at each step, never asked for a single cent, nor has she expected it. If anything, it was I who manipulated her into every part of it. It was I who concocted a reason to make her stay.

So maybe I’m the despicable one here for allowing such thoughts to even filter in and taint my mind, my goddamn feelings for her.

But I do need to know.

I need the truth so my brain doesn’t eat me alive from within.

I run a rough hand down my face, letting it settle over my heart, almost as if I’m shielding it from bolting out. “Kav—” I clear my throat, though it does nothing for the broken way her name plays on my lips. “Please, just . . .”

“He’s my dead best friend, Hudson.”

I take in a staggered breath at her resigned tone, her immovable jaw. Her words echo inside my ears. “Wh-what?”

“Nathan was my childhood best friend who died in an accident. An accident I still believe to be a murder, but there’s no way to prove that since it was always deemed an open-shut case of accidental death.”

My heart hammers as I process what she’s saying, but I stay quiet, letting her speak.

“He was more like a protective older brother to me than anything else.” Her lips wobble with a melancholy smile, and I know she’s in the midst of a loving memory. “Sure, we joked about marrying each other if neither of us found anyone, but that had more to do with how much we trusted each other than anything else.”

I clear my throat again, keeping my voice soft. “So these emails . . .?”

Kavi chuckles without humor. “My therapist told me to write to him as a way to cope at the time. But I still write to him, pretending that, in some dimension, he receives my mail. That perhaps he’s alive and well somewhere.”

She turns her head, inspecting the ground. “It probably makes me sound crazy, and maybe I am . . .” She shifts to study my reaction. “But I’m not hurting anyone. I know he’ll never come back; I’ve accepted that. But I suppose I rely on the comfort of his friendship, even in the afterlife, hoping he’s looking down on me, protecting me from wherever he is.”

Her eyes fill again as she tilts her head toward her open laptop. “What you read was a part of my diary. Letters to my dead best friend.”

“Kav—” Not able to hold myself back any longer, I rush to her, cradling her face in my palms.

Fuck, I had no clue.

I’m appalled at my own thoughts, my reaction, and my words. Not only did I think the worst of her, but I allowed some of those doubts to slip from my lips and become the reason for her tears.

My voice trembles, wishing I could erase everything about the past ten minutes. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. So, so sorry. I based everything on my past experiences and thought—”

“That I was cheating on you,” she finishes for me as a tear slips from her lids. I wipe it with my thumb, hating the feel of it on my skin. She shakes her head. “I would never do that to you, Hudson. How could I when I’m utterly and painfully in love with you?”

The buzzing in my head comes to a full stop, along with my breaths as her words sink in.

She . . . loves me?

I don’t have a chance to process my thoughts or her statement when she wraps her hands around my wrists and pulls me back into her hypnotic gaze. “I would never do that to you. I’m . . .” She steps into me, straightening to ensure I hear her next words. “I’m not her. I’ll never be her.”

I nod, pressing my forehead against hers. “I know. I feel like an asshole for doubting you, even for a minute.”

She rests her hands on my chest. “We’re the products of our pasts, aren’t we? I mean, look at me. I still sleep with every nightlight on, still shiver at the thought of being inside a small closet or an airplane.”

My gaze flicks to the scar on her arm. Somehow, I feel like she’ll finally talk to me. “Will you tell me what happened now?”

She hesitates another moment, but nods.

Before she can start, I pick her up—one hand on her back and the other under her knees—and carry her to the couch. We’ve both forgotten about the pizza and wine at this point.

She settles her head on my chest while mindlessly running her thumb over my scruff. Her voice is ragged against me. “Nathan and I both came from lower-middle-class families. We became best friends in kindergarten, and ended up at the same pricey private high school based on some donations from the wealthy community we lived in.

“Soon after we got there, we ran into a group of shitty kids—bullies, for the lack of a better word. We knew to stay away from them and, for the most part, we did. But Nathan’s family was met with financial issues when his deadbeat, drug addict dad ended up owing money to his dealer. And for reasons I still don’t understand to this day, Nathan decided to go to the leader of the bully gang, Vance, for help.”

Fuck.

A part of me wants her to stop, to tell her I don’t really want to know, while the other part needs this just as much as I think she does.

Feeling her body stiffen as she wades through the memories, I hold her tighter. She tells me about how Nathan couldn’t pay Vance back, and based on some bullshit rule Vance made up called the ‘darkness clause’, Nathan would have to carry out a dare of the bully’s choosing.

“I got a note from Vance’s friend later in the day, saying she knew of a way to help Nathan and wanted to meet me downstairs in the school’s boiler room. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted her, but I was so desperate to help Nathan, I followed her directions.”

Ice trickles into my veins.

My hair stands up at the back of my neck.

My molars grind as she walks me through what happened, and I’m shocked at the wickedness of some kids at such a young age.

“But when I got there, I was ambushed by three of them. They punched me and knocked me out before carrying and shoving me into a tiny, dark closet inside the boiler room.”

“What the fuck?” I growl, my heart racing at the images playing out in front of me. Rage settles into my bones, and all I want is to wrap my fucking hands around these monsters’ necks and squeeze.

“I tried to get out, but I was stuck in there for hours until a maintenance person saw blood pooled outside the door.”

This time, my body stiffens. All I can hear is the roar of blood inside my ears as my pulse quickens out of rhythm. “Blood?”

A tear trickles down her cheek and she quickly wipes it off, as if offended by its presence. I want to applaud her for the strength she’s trying to display, while wrapping her up inside my arms and telling her she never has to in front of me, but I stay quiet, letting her tell her story.

“I tried to feel my way through the small space because I couldn’t see anything, and my head was fuzzy and pounding.” She rubs her lips together, and I notice the slight loss of color on her face. “I’d thrown up on myself, too, based on what I remember. But, somehow, in the process of hurling myself against what I thought was the door, I threw myself against something sharp and metallic. I guess it was hard enough that it literally broke my forearm, lodging itself into my bone.”

A serrated breath cuts through my chest as my stomach turns. I try to swallow back the bile terrorizing my insides.

Squeezing my eyes shut at the image of this beautiful woman enduring so much pain, I lay a kiss on her temple, even as my ire liquifies into molten lava inside me at the thought of someone hurting her.

“I tried to dislodge it,” she continues, trapped inside her memories. “But I think I made it worse somehow, because when I pulled my arm off it, it ripped my skin further.” She heaves in a shuddering breath. “The pain was so excruciating, I passed out in a pool of my own blood. Sometime later, I was rushed to the ER, where they surgically fixed my broken arm.”

I hold her to me, kissing her face—her cheek, her forehead, her lips—hoping she doesn’t feel the tremble of my lips. Hoping to comfort in any way I can.

It explains so much. Why she wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, why she’s still scared of small dark places, why she had such a visceral reaction to one of her students’ situation at home, and even why she went on to become a therapist for kids.

I tenderly cradle her arm in my hand, running my thumb over her scar. “Didn’t anyone ask how you got into that closet?”

She shrugs. “I was told, in no uncertain terms, that if I told the truth, something would happen to my brother.”

My fingers freeze over her skin. “Jesus, Kav.”

Her lips quiver. “I told them I’d decided to explore the basement and got myself stuck inside the closet.”

“What did those assholes do to Nathan?”

There’s no part of me that wants to know more than I already do, but every part of me wants to carry this with her just a little bit.

“They killed him,” she states hoarsely in finality. “They took him to these cliffs and made him jump. I know because what they told the police was they all jumped, but he was the only one who never came back up. But I know for a fact that Nathan wouldn’t have done something as reckless as that. He wasn’t like that.”

Did they push him off or did he voluntarily jump? I guess it doesn’t fucking matter—the poor kid died, either way.

“The authorities found Nathan’s body in the water yards away from the cliffs, and the autopsy confirmed he hit the water hard.”

I swallow. “Did you ever tell the police your side of the story?”

Kavi’s hands find her face, covering it up before a strangled cry emits from her throat as sobs wrack through her body. I tangle my arms around her as she mumbles incoherently into her hands.

My heart cracks down the middle.

“Hey,” I whisper into her ear, rocking her as I plunge my nose into her hair. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. We don’t have to talk about any of this, okay?”

She shakes her head, her words garbled and her voice laden with guilt. “I couldn’t tell them what had happened because I knew Vance would hurt Neil. The entire school, even the principal, knew what it meant to go against Vance, his cronies, and their powerful families.”

Her lip trembles, tears streaking down her cheek. “I didn’t sleep, didn’t eat, didn’t function for months after. My guilt ate at me for the fact that I hadn’t sought out justice for my best friend. What kind of fucking friend was I? While he was buried six feet under, these assholes ran free, getting only minor punishments for trespassing in a restricted area where the cliffs were.”

“So, you never confided in anyone? You’ve carried this all by yourself?”

She swallows, wiping the tears from her face. “I told my parents what really happened a few days after the incident, but the truth is, everyone knew how dangerous and influential Vance’s family was. My dad made the decision at the time to take me out of that school and move forward with our lives. We even moved into a different home, and my parents put me in therapy . . . even though it cost them a fortune. The therapy helped, but I couldn’t tell my therapist everything, you know?”

“God, I’m so sorry, Kav.” The words don’t seem like enough, but I’m not sure what else I can provide besides reassurance that I understand.

She runs the back of her hand over her red nose before playing with the ring on her thumb. “But my mom was always there for me.” She chuckles, finding some of the lightness back in her expression. “She’s quirky and can’t keep an appliance working to save her life, but she was my rock. She knew the weight I was bearing by not telling the police, but she also knew that doing so would put our family in danger.”

My frown deepens as my heart sinks. “So the assholes got away with it?”

She shakes her head, her lips settling into a hard line. “Call it karma, but I heard the four of them were in a major car accident a year later, where three, including Vance, were killed on the spot, and one of the girls was left paralyzed from the waist down.” She pauses, turning her ring a couple of more times. “It didn’t give me any satisfaction to hear it because I still felt guilty for not coming forward and doing something about it myself, but it gave me peace knowing they couldn’t hurt anyone else.”

I clasp her face once more, connecting our eyes, our souls. “I’m not going to tell you how to feel, Kav, but I hope you’ve forgiven yourself by now, knowing you likely saved your brother.”

With her eyes rimmed red, Kavi takes in a breath but doesn’t speak. She looks completely drained, as if getting it all off her chest took everything out of her, but hopefully, she feels lighter, too.

A few minutes later, I carry her to my room where I undress her, kissing every inch of her exposed skin—including her scar—and making love to her the way I never have.

Slowly, gently.

Heartbreakingly.

Like she’s mine.