Beautiful Collide (Saints Of Redville #3)

Chapter 44

44

Hudson

The night is eerily quiet; the hum of the city muted this high up. I lean against the doorframe to the rooftop of the hotel where the team is staying, staring at the figure sitting underneath the stars.

I might not see her face, but I’d know her anywhere.

She’s haunted my thoughts for longer than I care to admit.

I watch her for a minute, sitting up against the low wall, knees pulled up, face tilted up to the sky.

She shouldn’t be up here.

Hell, I shouldn’t be either.

But something brought me here, and I have to believe it’s her. It’s almost like I’m stuck in her gravitational pull, and even if I tried, I’d never escape it.

Who are you trying to kid? You’ve never really tried.

For a hot second, I pretended I didn’t care about her.

That lasted all of two seconds.

I let the world think I was losing myself in an endless bevy of women, but it was all bullshit. None of that shit was real. The only thing that was real is that the very first time I saw Molly Sinclair, I was obsessed.

I move from where I’m perched, desperate for a closer look, needing to see her face.

When she comes into focus, she practically takes my breath away. She looks so different right now. Not her usual sarcastic self. There’s nothing combative about her.

She looks serene. Peaceful.

I want to be with her.

I stumble from the revelation.

I don’t care what her brother says, or what anyone says . . . I want Molly, and I’m going to do everything in my power to have her.

I step out of the shadows, my boots crunching softly on the graveled rooftop. This place definitely isn’t safe, but if she’s here, then I’m here.

Molly glances over her shoulder. It might be dark out, but even from here, under the black sky that blankets us from above, I can tell her expression looks wary.

I take another step out until a small light from the neighboring building lights the space. Her head whips in my direction.

It’s not bright out, but clearly, it’s enough for her to realize it’s me. Her eyes widen before a smile tugs at her lips.

“Can I help you?” Her voice carries over the cool night.

“Just out here to get some air.”

“Well, this roof is taken.”

Despite her words, I can tell from her light, airy tone that she’s happy to see me.

I lift my hands in mock surrender. “Didn’t know I’d be crashing your stargazing party.”

“It was supposed to be a party for one.” She arches a brow, turning back to the sky. “Or at least that’s how it was advertised.”

I bite back a grin. “You should get your money back.”

I make my way over to where she’s sitting and plop down beside her, tilting my head up to match her.

The stars are clearer here than I expected, but I guess it makes sense since this building is higher than the rest of the area.

For a few moments, we sit in silence. The tension is sharp, but not in a bad way. Almost exciting.

After brunch today, I wasn’t sure how she would react. But as I sit beside her, I know she doesn’t regret the kiss. That doesn’t mean I’ll make it easier on her. That’s not who we are, after all.

Being assholes to each other is practically our love language, or I think that’s the term Anna uses when she talks about boys she likes.

“You’re avoiding me,” I finally say, cutting through the silence as I tilt my head down to look at her again.

Molly glances at me, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I’m not avoiding you, Wilde.” I give her a pointed look, and she smiles. “Fine. I’m avoiding you. But it’s because I needed to think.”

“Think about what?”

She exhales deeply. “Don’t play dumb. You know what I was thinking about.”

“The kiss,” I say, my voice dropping low.

“Oh, jeez.” She scrunches her nose. “Can you not say it like that?”

“Say it like what?” I use the same tone, knowing it’ll press her buttons.

“Like you’re trying to seduce me.”

I wiggle my brows at her. “But aren’t I?”

She doesn’t answer, and I wonder if she plans to just stop speaking for the night.

But then she breaks the silence. “After today, who knows?”

“I’m playing the game I’m expected to play,” I answer vaguely.

She furrows her brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I sigh. “People expect a certain version of me. That’s all.”

It’s the same stupid story. The reputation I never asked for but ended up wearing anyway. What did Dane say again?

Hudson Wilde: the star that plays on and off the ice?

It didn’t matter what I said or how I acted. People had already made up their minds.

After that showdown in the hallway, word got out. The first time someone accused me of being a womanizer, I tried to laugh it off.

Then, when the rumors spread outside the arena, I fought against it.

I told them they were wrong.

I told them I wasn’t that guy.

But no one believed me.

The truth didn’t matter because the lie was more interesting.

Eventually, I stopped fighting it.

If they would paint me as the villain, I figured I’d give them what they wanted. I played the role they’d written for me—the smirking, careless, bad boy with a revolving door of women.

But the truth is, it never felt right.

I wasn’t proud of it. It’s not who I am, and it never was.

But the more I let people believe it, the more I felt like I’d buried the real me so deep, he’d never come back.

Molly bites her lower lip, sparing me a glance. “And that’s not who you are?”

I shake my head, no longer staring at the stars. “No.”

She shifts slightly, resting her chin on her knees, turning to face me fully. Her voice softens. “Then why pretend?”

I sigh, deciding to answer her honestly. “Because no one cares to see past the facade.”

“That’s not true, Hudson.”

“So . . . you do?”

She doesn’t answer.

I let out a bitter laugh, the sound empty and sharp. “Exactly.”

The silence that follows stretches, and it’s not a comfortable one. She opens her mouth like she wants to say something—maybe defend herself, maybe argue—but she closes it just as quickly.

I lean back, staring at the night sky again, the stars a blur I can’t focus on. “You know, it’s easier that way.”

“For everyone else,” she points out.

“Maybe.” I close my eyes, letting the wind lap at my cheeks. “They get to keep their neat little story about me. No one has to bother looking for more. And eventually . . .” I pause, forcing out a humorless laugh. “You start wondering if they’re right. If maybe you are just the bad guy they say you are.”

Molly’s quiet before she murmurs, “You’re not.”

The words are so soft I almost don’t hear them. I glance over at her. For the first time tonight, she’s finally looking at me. Really looking at me. Studying me.

Staring deep into my soul.

For a second, I think maybe she does see past it. Maybe she sees me.

And then, she looks away.

Of course, she does.

I shake my head, my voice low. “Doesn’t matter if I’m not. People love their lies.”

Molly doesn’t argue this time. She just stays quiet, watching the stars, and for some reason, that silence hurts more than if she’d disagreed.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Hudson.”

Her words catch me off guard.

I tear my eyes away from the stars, peering down at her. “For what?”

“I did this to you. I gave you this reputation. And back then, when I tried to apologize, I never did it sincerely.”

I move to speak, but she holds up a hand.

“Let me get this out. Please. It’s long overdue.” She straightens, her eyes locked on mine. “I know that I ruined your reputation the first day we met. I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter, but it obviously did, and I’m so fucking sorry that I did it, that I can’t tell you why I did it, and that I haven’t given you the genuine apology you deserve until now.”

“You did,” I point out, trying to make her feel better. I can’t help but want to stop the tears welling in her eyes. “You apologized a few days later. I didn’t let you.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t try hard enough. And to be honest, I didn’t mean it like I do now. Now that I know you better. Now that . . .” She sucks in a breath, closing her eyes. “Now that I’m willing to admit I want to know you better. So tell me. Please. What’s going on with you?”

When she looks at me like that—so fucking sincere that I want to bottle up that gaze and keep it with me when life gets dark—I can’t help but spill.

I sigh, leaning back on my hands. “It’s just been . . . a lot lately. Between hockey and everything else, sometimes I feel like I can’t keep up.”

“Everything else?” Her tone drops.

For a second, I hesitate to speak. No one’s asked me anything like this before. Not even Mom.

Not how I’m feeling, nor what’s going on in my life.

It’s been so long since someone has genuinely asked. Sure, I’ve had bullshit interviews with the media, but that was all superficial. Vultures hunting for a soundbite.

Molly is genuine and real, and fuck, it’s addictive.

A part of me doesn’t want to talk. Just wants to keep my walls up. To be the fun, carefree Hudson everyone expects me to be.

But then I feel her hand on mine, and it spurs me to talk.

“My family, they own a farm.” I sigh, feeling lighter as the words finally escape me. “It’s a small operation, but it’s been in the family for generations. My dad’s getting older, and the farm’s not doing great. They’re close to losing it.”

Molly turns to me, surprise flickering across her face. “I didn’t know that.”

“Why would you?” I shrug before looking down to stare at the gravel under my boot. “I don’t talk about it much. But it’s why I’m late to things sometimes—helping out on the farm. Especially during harvest.”

“You help them?”

“I do.” I shrug. “Sometimes it’s small things, other times bigger. I do whatever needs doing.”

“Shouldn’t your parents have hired help for that?”

“They should.” I nod. My throat feels tight. “And they could, if they’d just let me help them out financially. But they won’t. They’re stubborn and refuse to take my money.”

“Why?”

“They say they don’t want me solving their problems just because I’m making good money now.” I shake my head, frustration welling in my chest. “It’s pride. It’s stupid fucking pride.”

“Or maybe it’s guilt.”

I freeze, more than a little surprised I never considered that. “What do you mean?”

“When Dane got custody of me, I felt weird asking for things. Stupid things. A toothbrush, shampoo, socks.” She laughs, but it’s a bitter laugh, full of regret. “I didn’t even let him buy me pads. I just felt like . . . he worked so hard for the money, he put in so many hours, and I didn’t want to be his burden.”

“He would never see you as a burden,” I promise her.

“I know that. Well, sometimes I do. Other times . . . not so much.” She shakes her head. “Anyway. It wasn’t pride. It was guilt . Pride is standing tall and saying you don’t need help. Guilt is curling in on yourself because you know you do, but you’re too afraid to accept it.”

It strikes me that it means something that she’s sharing this.

Molly has walls taller than Mount Everest. She doesn’t let anyone in. But to make me feel better, she’s sharing a piece of herself she never does.

A realization hits me in the chest.

Molly is the calm I need.

She’s quiet.

I keep my eyes trained on her until she meets my gaze. Her eyes search mine.

“Just food for thought,” she says, sheepish. She rubs the back of her neck. “From what I know of your parents. So, since they don’t let you pay for help, you help them yourself, right?”

“Yeah.” I run a hand through my hair, accepting the lifeline she gave me. “It’s not enough, though. And it kills me to see them struggling when I could help.”

Molly doesn’t respond right away.

Instead, she looks back at the stars. “They’re lucky to have you, you know. Not everyone would stick around and help like that.”

I laugh, but the sound lacks humor. “They’re the best people I know. I couldn’t not help. They’ve given me everything, and they ask for nothing in return. That’s just who they are.”

Her hand squeezes mine. “That’s . . . really amazing, Hudson. I mean it.”

My chest feels tight.

This is Molly.

The real Molly.

There’s no sarcasm. No hate.

She’s just . . . her .

I flip my hand over, linking our fingers together, testing the waters. “Thanks.”

She doesn’t pull away. Our hands laced together, we fall into another silence, but this time, it isn’t awkward. It feels almost natural. Like the tension between us all day has finally faded away.

I tilt my head back, my gaze fixing on the stars. “You ever think about how small we are? Compared to all of this?”

Molly chuckles softly. “What, are you getting philosophical now?”

I grin. “Maybe.”

She shrugs. “Makes sense, it’s the stars. They do that to people.”

Her voice is soft, almost wistful.

For a second, I forget how to breathe.

The moonlight casts a glow across her face, catching on her cheekbones, her nose, and the soft curve of her lips. I swear the girl could make a guy forget his own name.

I shift closer, just slightly, but it’s enough to catch her attention. She glances at me, her eyes darker than usual in the low light.

Something shifts in the air between us.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

“Like what?” I ask, even though I know exactly what she’s talking about.

“Like I’m—” She swallows, her words catching in her throat.

“Like you’re everything,” I finish for her.

Her lips part, her breath hitching, and I don’t wait for her to argue or deflect or push me away. I lean in, closing the space between us slowly, giving her time to stop me if she wants to. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she leans in, too.

When my mouth finally brushes against hers, it’s soft at first—tentative. But then she presses closer, her hands tangling in my shirt, and I lose every ounce of self-control I thought I had.

I cup her face in my hands, deepening the kiss, pouring every unspoken thing into it—every fight we’ve had, every tense fucking moment, every single time I’ve wanted this and told myself I couldn’t.

Her fingers curl into my chest, and I don’t even have it in me to be embarrassed by how fast my heart beats.

The world fades around us.

There’s no sky, no stars, no sound.

Just her.

Just us.

The kiss grows frantic. Hungry.

Like we’re both trying to devour the years we’ve spent avoiding this, denying this.

Her hands tug at my shirt, her nails scraping against my skin, and I’m gone. Absolutely fucking gone.

My fingers skim down her back, gripping and pulling her closer because there’s no such thing as close enough. I feel her everywhere—her lips on mine, her breath mingling with mine, the heat of her skin beneath my palms.

We yank at each other’s clothes, blindly tugging at any fabric we can get a hold of. It’s a blur of hands, lips, and teeth, and I swear, something tears—her shirt or mine. We toss them aside like they’ve offended us.

And then we’re crashing back together, kissing, biting, and claiming each other’s lips. Her hands roam all over me—my chest, my back, my cock.

“Touch me, Hex. Get me nice and ready.” She grips my hardness at the base, tugging upward, drawing a groan for me. “I need to fuck you.”

“Here?”

“Yes, Hex, do you have a problem with that?” Her lips tip into a sexy smirk. “That’s what I thought. Remove your pants.”

She inhales before moving her hands to the waist of her leggings. “Now your top. I want to taste every inch of you before I fuck your sweet pussy.”

It might be dark, but as she strips bare for me, laying her clothes in a neat pile on the ground, I take her in.

She’s gorgeous.

The dim light casts a soft shadow over her, giving me enough light to see her perky tits. It’s her nipples that have me licking my lips.

Her small hand grasps my dick and runs it from root to tip, getting me nice and ready for her.

“Since I don’t want either of us to fuck up our knees on the gravel, I’m going to need you to bend over, Hex. Hands on the wall.”

She hurries to follow my orders, and fuck, if that doesn’t make me harder.

I reach into my back pocket to grab a condom and waste no time slipping it on.

Stepping up behind her, I run my hands over her ass, dipping lower and lower until I run my fingers through her drenched folds.

“I love how wet you get for me.”

I slide a finger into her, and she moans as her head rolls back while I stroke and tease her G-spot.

But I’m not a generous man right now. She’ll get her turn, but not before I’m inside her.

Pulling my finger out, I quickly replace it with my cock, resting the tip right outside her pussy. She wiggles back, which makes me laugh.

“Ahh, is my little Hex impatient?”

“Stop talking, Wilde, and fuck me.”

“Is that what you need? And here I thought you were out here to stargaze.”

She wiggles back again, and I swirl my hips, my cock tracing her damp skin but still not entering.

A groan escapes her mouth. “Tell me . . . how bad do you want me.”

“Bad enough to ignore this is a bad idea.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yep.” She pops the p , full of attitude, and it only makes me smile.

“Very well.” I pull my dick away.

“What the hell?” She turns over her shoulder.

“Tell me you want me.”

She bites her lip.

“Tell me.”

“I want you,” she admits in a whisper.

“Not good enough. Tell me you want me to fill you with my cock.”

Her eyes widen, and her mouth stays shut.

“Beg me, Hex.”

She doesn’t speak, but I can see the words all over her features. From the way her eyes are glassy to the way her body trembles beneath me. We both know damn well she wants to be fucked.

“Fuck me, Wilde, please.”

“Not what I asked you to say, but it will have to do.”

I push forward, and the tip of my dick slips inside her.

A moan escapes her, and I move another inch in.

With every move I make, I feed her pussy more of my cock.

Finally, when I can’t take it anymore, I drive my whole length within her, loving how her muscles pulsate around me.

I start to thrust faster, harder, deeper.

The city sounds are all around us, but it isn’t loud enough up here to drown out the sound of our bodies slapping together.

“Just like that. So good.”

“Are you going to come?” I ask, reaching around and finding her clit. “Now, be a good girl and give me what I want.”

I drive into her again.

“Oh God,” she moans, so I pick up my pace.

My thrusts are now punishing as I furiously rub her clit. “I’m coming,” she pants as her pussy tightens, and my balls do the same.

“Good girl, come all over my cock.” And she does, tightening so hard around my dick I almost see stars. I’m quick to follow her over the edge.

Afterward, I place my shirt down on the gravel, and we sit together on the rooftop, the cool night air brushing against our skin. Molly’s head rests against my shoulder, her breathing soft and steady.

I tilt my head, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You good?”

She hums, her voice sleepy and content. “I could go again. Give me fifteen minutes.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” I chuckle softly, running my fingers through her hair.

“Yeah,” she says, turning slightly to look up at me. Her face is suddenly serious. “You know that . . .” She winces, stopping.

“That Dane can’t know,” I finish for her.

I expected this.

“Are you okay with that?” Her face is etched with hesitation, like she’s waiting for me to argue or walk away.

But I don’t.

I can’t.

“Yes,” I finally say.

Because the truth is, I don’t want to live another lie— not again.

I’ve spent years pretending to be someone I’m not, building walls and hiding behind them. But right now, all I can think about is her.

I want Molly Sinclair.

So if keeping this a secret means I get to have her—even if it’s just for a little while—I’ll play the game.

I’ll take the lie as long as I get her.