Chapter 6
6
Molly
I’m halfway out the door, my coffee thermos in hand, when I spot Hudson Wilde stalking across the parking lot toward me.
Whatever he wants, I’m sure I won’t like it.
“Hell no,” I mutter, quickening my pace.
I don’t have time for whatever brand of asshole he wants to introduce me to today.
“Molly,” he calls out, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.
I ignore him and keep walking. I parked across the lot in my assigned space, a solid distance from the arena. I don’t know why I’m always the rule follower. No one’s here. I could’ve parked right in front and wouldn’t have to deal with the madman beelining for me.
Hudson cuts me off, his bag slung over one shoulder and his expression equal parts sheepish and determined. “I need a ride.”
I blink, certain I’ve misheard him. “You what?”
“A ride,” he repeats, shifting his weight awkwardly. “To the game.”
My mouth is wide open.
I can’t believe what this asshole just had the nerve to ask me.
Finally, I shake myself out of the stupor. “You’re joking, right?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
He doesn’t. Not at all. But I can’t entertain such a ridiculous request. I refuse to.
“Absolutely not.”
“Molly.”
I cross my arms over my chest, glaring at Hudson. “Oh, now I’m Molly.”
I’ve never met someone quite like Hudson Wilde.
He’s warped into the biggest jerk I know. Yes, I did him dirty. I should’ve backed him up last year. Pulled Coach aside and explain what happened in private. But then, Dane had to follow up on the incident and blow everything out of proportion.
And I just . . . couldn’t.
I couldn’t let Dane find out.
One thing would lead to another, and he’d unravel every secret I’ve tried so hard to keep for ten years.
Hudson bats his lashes as if that’ll change anything. “Pretty please?”
“Hudson”—I cross my arms—“I don’t even like being in the same room with you. What makes you think I’d spend five hours in a car with you?”
He runs a hand through his hair, clearly trying to keep his frustration in check. “Look, I don’t exactly have options here. My car’s dead, and I missed the plane. I’ll pay for gas or whatever. Just help me out.”
I take a long sip of my coffee, pretending to mull it over. “Hmm. Let me think . . . No.”
“Molly—”
“Nope.” I turn on my heel and head toward my car.
“I’ll be quiet the whole ride,” he calls after me. “You won’t even know I’m there.”
“That’s the dream,” I retort, not bothering to look back.
I’m halfway there when I feel my phone vibrate. I pull it out of my pocket. It’s Dane.
Dane: Give him a ride.
“Seriously?” I hiss, spinning around to face Hudson. “You went to my brother?”
“What? Can’t hear you. You’re too far away.” His voice carries a mocking tone as he cups a hand to his ear.
He’s such an ass.
My phone buzzes again.
Dane: Please, Molly.
I groan, my jaw clenching as I read the message again, hoping I’ve misunderstood.
Molly: Tell him to take a bus.
Dane: Molly.
I can practically hear the warning in his tone, and it grates on my nerves.
Dane: I can always fire you and ask my new assistant to drive him . . .
Of course. Dane fires me five to six times a week. He’s under the impression that I’m only working for him out of guilt and that I’d be happier pursuing my own interests. Sure, he has a point. A tiny one. Practically microscopic, if you ask me.
At the end of the day, I need to stick with Dane.
He gave up his life for me.
It’s only fair.
And that’s why I refuse to accept his firing.
Molly: As if you could actually fire me.
Dane: Don’t tempt me.
Dane: Just drive him. Please.
Molly: Fine. But you owe me hazard pay.
Dane: Thanks.
I can hear Hudson’s footsteps crunching the gravel behind me. As much as I don’t want to because I know I’m not ready to see his smug face, I have no choice but to turn and look at him. He’s almost here, and I’m not okay with him behind me.
I pivot sharply. “What are you doing?”
“Getting a ride,” he says nonchalantly, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“I can’t believe you ratted me out to my brother.”
“I didn’t rat you out.” He shrugs, his lips twitching into a smirk.
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll bite. What did you do?”
“I asked for help, and Dane offered you up on a platter.” He pulls his phone from his pocket again, holding it up.
“No way.”
“Here. See for yourself.” He lifts his phone until it’s dangling in my face, his smirk deepening.
And true to his words . . . there, clear as day, it says:
Dane: Ask Molly. I’m sure she would be happy to help.
Bastard .
I clench my jaw, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. Although driving Hudson is the last thing I want to do right now, I can’t say no.
Not now. Not when my brother—the guy who basically saved my life without even really knowing it—just freaking told him to ask me.
I shove his phone out of my face and readjust my bag over my shoulder, my glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Get in the car.”
His brows lift in surprise. “Just like that?”
“You heard me,” I snap, unlocking the doors. “Apparently, I’m your chauffeur now. We need to leave. Now. The Weather Channel mentioned a crazy storm later tonight, and I really don’t want to have to drive in that.”
“I’m ready whenever you are,” Hudson says, his voice annoyingly cheerful.
“And your car?” I gesture to the beautiful car that won’t take him anywhere.
“Guess I have no choice but to leave her.” He sighs, glancing back at it. “I can’t afford to be late.”
“Says the guy who missed the plane because he was already late,” I mutter, raising an eyebrow.
“That was beyond my control.”
“Sure.”
He looks at me like he wants to say something. Maybe fire an insult at me, or perhaps something else. I can’t place the look in his eyes. Other than exhaustion, he looks dead to the world with hollow, dark bags under his eyes.
“I can drive,” he offers, his voice softer now.
“Um, this isn’t the 1920s, Wilde.” I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes at him. “Women are capable of driving.”
“I never said you weren’t capable.” His lips quirk up into a teasing grin. “Jeez. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed . . . again?”
“Seriously? Are you really insulting me after asking for a favor?”
His eyes widen as if it’s finally dawning on him that I do not, in fact, need to give him a lift.
I raise my brow, tapping my foot impatiently. “Well?”
“Nope.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “You drive. I’m tired anyway.”
“Long night?”
“You can say that,” he mutters, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
“Eh.” I give him a pointed look. “Is this your way of saying you were up all night with God knows who doing God knows what?”
“You, of all people, should know that getting laid isn’t the reason I’m ever late,” he says with a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Why would I know that?” My tone is sharp. Defensive.
Of course, I know I was in the wrong for the way we started off. So, no, I don’t hate Hudson for being mad at me for last year. It’s everything that’s come after that I have no tolerance for.
He doesn’t need to argue with me every chance he gets. We could make peace. Have a truce. Agree to ignore each other whenever possible.
But I suppose neither of us can help ourselves.
At least, that’s what it seems like.
This time, it’s Hudson who lifts his brow. The closet. It always circles back to the damn closet.
“This again.” I hop into the driver’s seat, sparing him a glance as he dumps his bag in the back seat and slams the door shut. “I told you I’m sorry. You don’t need to keep—”
“I didn’t say anything. It’s your guilt that did.”
I roll my eyes. “Just get in the car.”
He hops into the passenger seat beside me.
My lungs puff out, and then I exhale. This is going to be a long five hours.
We aren’t even out of the parking lot before my hand collides with his while reaching for the radio.
His fingers beat me to it, and he changes the station.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I snap, glancing at him.
He settles in his seat. “Everyone knows the passenger works the radio.”
“Really? Everyone?”
“It’s like Road Trip 101.”
“This isn’t a road trip. We aren’t friends, and you don’t get to pick the music.”
“Real question. Is it just me, or are you always this crabby?” he teases in a light tone.
I continue to look forward, not giving him the satisfaction of a glance in his direction. “It’s just you.”
From the corner of my eye, I see his hand playfully clutch his chest. “Ouch, I’m wounded.”
“You’ll live.”
My mouth opens, and I’m about to say more, but I stop myself. Five hours is a long time to be stuck in the car with this man.
“Go on, say it,” Hudson urges, his voice low.
“Say what?”
Now, I do glance in his direction as I slow the car down to a stop at the edge of the parking lot.
Damn, he’s got a smug grin on his face. Too bad he’s so hot. It would be much easier if he weren’t.
“Unfortunately.”
“I never said that.”
“You wanted to.”
I did.
The truth is, I don’t hate him. Not really. I hate that he saw me at my weakest moment. He’s a daily reminder that the scared girl I thought I left behind is still very much a part of me.
I’m better now. The panic attacks don’t occur regularly like they did right after my parents died when I was a girl.
They stopped soon after Dane stepped in and signed me up for therapy. He never knew I got them, let alone why I would. Before that day in the closet, I thought I was doing better, but every now and then, they do come back.
And every time I look at Hudson Wilde, he reminds me of that pesky fact.
The silence in the car is thick and uncomfortable as we pull out of the lot. I keep my eyes firmly on the road, my grip on the wheel tight.
“This wasn’t my first choice, you know,” Hudson says after a few minutes.
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t mine either,” I snap, my tone icy.
He leans back in his seat, crossing his arms. “You always this pleasant, or is it just me?”
“Oh, it’s just you,” I reply sweetly. “You bring out the best in me.”
He lets out a dry laugh. “Well, that’s mutual.”
“How about we just don’t talk?” I suggest, my voice tight.
“Sounds like a plan,” Hudson responds, reaching forward to adjust the volume. “I’m going to nap. Wake me if you need me.”
Good.
Great .
The tension simmers just beneath the surface. But when he goes quiet, and the only sound is the pitter-patter of the raindrops, I miss the company.
Any company.
Because now I’m just alone in my thoughts.
And that’s a scary place to be.
I had another panic attack last week. At Dane’s place. The wind slammed the door shut behind me as I raided his pantry, and I almost outed myself in front of my brother. I’ve been diligently avoiding him since, which hasn’t been easy, given that I’m his assistant.
At the next light, Hudson clears his throat. “Thanks for doing this. Even if it’s under duress.”
“Don’t thank me,” I mutter. “Thank Dane. He’s the one who insisted. If it were up to me, you’d be on a bus.”
“I will. Right after I thank him for all the other wonderful things he’s done for me this week, like letting me get railed in the hip during practice.”
Despite myself, a small laugh escapes me, and I bite my lip to stifle it.
“Was that a laugh?”
“No,” I say quickly, glaring at the road.
Hudson relaxes against the leather with a smug grin. “Sounded like a laugh.”
“You’re delusional.”
“And you’re bad at hiding when you think I’m funny.”
I shake my head, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.
We’ve barely made it to the freeway, and I’m ready to toss him and his duffel bag to the curb.