Beautiful Collide (Saints Of Redville #3)

Chapter 63

63

Hudson

It’s pandemonium in the conference room.

The reporters maneuver for a good position in the room, causing chaos to erupt.

The flash of the cameras is nearly blinding.

We’re here to discuss a new team fundraising campaign that we will be kicking off, but as usual, it’s open season for these vultures.

For the past ten minutes, we’ve barely covered anything we prepared.

Instead, reporters have been firing off personal questions while we dodged them.

Everyone looks pissed, but I’m okay. Seeing as I’ve never had a good reputation, I’m used to it. The PR team has prepped me well. Smile. Joke. Deflect.

Basically, keep them entertained by my stellar personality.

Usually, it’s easy. Today, though, there’s a tightness in my chest I can’t shake, and it’s all because of Molly.

I glance down the line of my teammates, all sitting at the long table with me. Mason’s leaning back in his chair, looking bored as hell.

Aiden’s answering a question about his offseason training regimen with his usual calm professionalism. And Dane—is being grumpy.

I try to focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Molly. It’s been eight weeks since that fateful night in Vegas, eight weeks of looking for an attorney and finding them all lacking.

None of them have been right for us, so we’ve been sneaking around in the meantime, hoping this mess doesn’t blow up in our faces.

“Hudson!” someone shouts my name, pulling me out of my thoughts. It’s coming from a reporter at the far-right corner of the room. He’s got brown hair and has a voice that looks too deep to be coming from him. He stares at me before speaking again. “Let’s talk about your plans for next season. Do you think the Saints can pull off another Cup win?”

I flash a grin, leaning into the mic. “We’ve got a great team, great chemistry. If we stay focused, I think we’ve got a real shot.”

Safe. Easy. Next question.

Another reporter chimes in, asking about the charity event the team just pledged to. Finally, a question that matters. Took long enough.

It’s why we’re all here, after all.

I let Mason take it, nodding along as he talks about the importance of giving back.

And then it happens. “Hudson, one more question.”

The voice is calm, almost casual, but it makes every nerve in my body go on high alert. I glance at the reporter—an older guy with a sharp suit and a sharper smile. He adjusts his glasses, his gaze locking on to mine like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Can you tell us how married life is treating you?”

The room goes dead silent.

My lungs burn, and it feels hard to breathe. It’s like the air has been sucked out of the room. Every reporter, every teammate, every PR staff member turns to me like I just grew a second head.

My heart slams against my rib cage, but I force my face to stay neutral, even as my mind races.

What the hell? How does he know?

Mason lets out a bark of laughter, breaking the tension. “Hudson? Married? Yeah, right. He can’t even commit to a pizza topping.”

A ripple of laughter moves through the room, but it’s short-lived.

Fuck.

The reporter doesn’t seem to be buying it. He keeps his eyes on me, his smirk widening.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” he presses. “You’re married.”

“Excuse me?” My voice sounds too tight. Keep it together, Wilde.

Don’t give anything away.

“Let me rephrase,” he says smoothly. “Is there any tension in the locker room now that you’re married to a teammate’s sister?”

The silence that follows is somehow louder than the laughter from before. Everyone in the room but the shithead asking the questions is frozen in place, staring at me like I’ve just confessed to a crime.

“What?” Dane’s voice cuts through the quiet, sharp and demanding.

I open my mouth, but no words come out. My brain feels like it’s short-circuiting. The reporter raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the chaos he’s unleashed.

“So, Dane . . .” He turns his attention away from me and onto Dane. “Are you happy for your sister and Hudson?”

Dane blinks, his jaw tightening. He looks at me, then back at the reporter. “I—what—what the hell are you talking about?”

“All right, that’s enough,” our PR manager snaps, stepping forward and cutting the reporter off. “This press conference is over. Thank you all for coming.”

The room erupts into chaos again, but this time, it’s worse than before.

Reporters are shouting questions, cameras are flashing, and I still can’t get my brain to function.

Luckily for me, the PR team moves quickly, ushering us off the stage and into the hallway. Everyone is stunned into silence except for Mason, who mutters something I can’t make out. Most likely, it’s an obnoxious comment, and I’m happy I don’t hear, because I’m sure I’d want to punch him. Something tells me that wouldn’t bode well for me with Coach.

As soon as we’re away from the press, Dane turns to me, his face a mixture of confusion and anger. “What the hell was that?”

I run a hand through my hair, my heart still racing. “Dane, I can explain—”

“Explain what?” he snaps. “That reporter just said you’re married to my sister. My sister, for fuck’s sake. Please tell me this isn’t true.”

My pulse quickens, and I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.

The hallway feels too small, too loud, even though no one’s talking but us. I glance at Mason and Aiden, who are both hovering a few feet away, clearly not sure if they should step in or stay out of it.

“Yeah,” I say finally, my voice low. “It’s true.”

Dane’s face goes blank for a second, like he can’t quite process what I’ve just said, and then, like a veil of fog being lifted, the anger flares.

“You’re fucking joking,” he says, his voice sharp. “Shit. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“You—” He cuts himself off, his fists clenching at his sides. “Are you out of your damn mind? Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Molly is my sister.”

“I know,” I say, my voice steady even though my chest feels like it’s caving in. “I know, Dane. And I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. But this—what Molly and I have—it’s real.”

“Real?” Dane scoffs. “You’re a playboy, Hudson. You’ve never been serious about anyone in your life. Why the hell would I believe you’re serious about her?”

“Because I am,” I say firmly.

He laughs, but it’s humorless. “You don’t even know how to be serious, Hudson. You think everything’s a joke. What happens when this gets old? When you get bored? What happens to Molly then?”

“Stop,” I say, my voice sharp now. “You don’t get to talk about her like she’s some fling I’m going to toss aside. You don’t know how I feel about her.”

“Then tell me,” he snaps. “Tell me why the hell I shouldn’t be worried about my sister being tied to a guy who treats relationships like disposable coffee cups.”

I take a deep breath, trying desperately not to snap. I want to yell at him, to defend myself, but I know that won’t help. So I force myself to calm down, to find the words that will make him understand.

“Because she’s not just some girl to me,” I say finally. “Molly’s . . . everything. She’s smart and stubborn and funny. When I’m with her, nothing else matters. Everything fades away. The noise, the pressure, the bullshit—it doesn’t matter. She’s the only thing that matters.”

Dane stares at me, his jaw tight, his eyes searching mine.

“I know my reputation,” I continue. “I know what people think of me. And yeah, I’ve screwed up a lot in the past. But Molly? She makes me want to be better. I’d do anything to be the man she deserves. Fuck.” I look up at the ceiling, trying to find the right thing to say, before looking back down to meet his stare again. “I’d bring down empires if it meant keeping her safe.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and raw. Dane doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and I can’t tell if he’s processing or just deciding how hard he wants to punch me.

Finally, he exhales, shaking his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We wanted to,” I say. “But we didn’t know how. And after Vegas . . . it just got more complicated.”

“Vegas?” His eyes narrow.

Shit.

I wince. “Yeah. That’s where . . . it happened.”

Dane’s face tightens, and I can see him putting the pieces together.

“You married her in Vegas,” he says flatly.

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t think I deserved to know?”

“We were going to tell you,” I say. “We just . . . didn’t want to do it like this.”

Dane exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, and I mean it. “But I swear to you, Dane, I care about Molly. More than anything. I’m not going to screw this up.”

He’s quiet as he continues to look at me, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nods, though it looks forced.

“You’d better not,” he says quietly.

“I won’t.”

He doesn’t respond. He just turns and walks away, leaving me standing in the hallway with the weight of everything still hanging over me.

This wasn’t how I wanted him to find out.

But now that he knows, there’s no turning back.