34. Lacy
34
LACY
“ A re you ready to head home tomorrow?” Hudson asks me as we sit together on the sofa, looking out at the city lights surrounding us. With the fire on and soft music playing, I lean into his body, his arm draped around me, and I sink into this comfort. This is nice. The time we’ve spent together outside of Whispers has bonded us like we were always meant to be. I feel completely comfortable with him and have fallen more for the man who continues to sweep me off my feet. There is no turning back for me. He is it; I just know it.
“Yes, although,” I say, stretching my limbs. My legs extend to their full length, yet still I can’t hit the edge of the sofa, it’s that big. “I could get used to this.” Smiling, I release a content sigh. These past few days together in New York have been amazing. We’ve played tourists during the day and can’t keep our hands off each other at night. It’s like our own little private love bubble, and I’ve felt every bit the smitten woman I am .
“Mmm, it’s nice for a break,” he says, sipping on his glass of red wine.
“It’s been wonderful. Thank you.” Turning up and literally whisking me off my feet these past few days has been amazing. It’s every girl’s dream. Looking at him, really taking him in, something lingers in my mind, but I’ve been tentative to bring it up until now. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything. I’m an open book for you,” he says with a kiss to my head, and I smile as I find the courage.
“Tell me about your wife.” My nerves swirl, not sure I'm ready to put myself through hearing all about the love of his life. But I feel if we are getting as serious as I think we are, then this is a bridge I need to cross.
“Amanda was…” he trails off, and I hold my breath. “She was the life of the party. We met at a mutual friend’s place and got along well.”
“Were the two of you together long?” I have no idea of his history, other than he was married, so the fact that he loved someone so much before makes me wonder if that is something he is capable of feeling again.
“We knew each other for about three months when she fell pregnant. It was a total surprise and scared both of us. We were pretty casual, just hanging out. But she wanted to keep the baby, and I wasn’t about to leave her to face it all alone. So we had a shotgun wedding. We then found out she had cancer in her last trimester, and she died before Harvey turned one. I knew her for less than two years before she died. She was a great woman,” he says, releasing a heavy breath, and I swallow past a lump in my throat. My chest hurts for his loss, and my stomach coils in what I think is jealousy, even though I have no right to feel that way.
I remain quiet, thinking it all through.
“She wasn’t the one. Never was. As I said, we hooked up, went to a few parties with friends. Next thing I knew, she was pregnant with Harvey about three months after we started hanging out. It all happened pretty fast, and nothing was planned. Amanda was not in love with me either. We had a good time, got along well, but being together seriously and especially having a child together, none of that was what we wanted with the other,” he says, and my jealous feelings of his late wife all dissipate in an instant. But it doesn’t lessen how unfortunate the whole situation is, how badly I feel for her loss.
“I’m sorry. For both you and Harvey,” I say genuinely.
“Harvey doesn’t really know any different. It has always just been the two of us… until now.” He’s looking at me intently as our spare hands connect and our fingers intertwine.
“He is the sweetest boy. You have done a great job raising him,” I tell him honestly.
“Do you want kids?” he asks me, and I take a breath.
“Yeah. I do. I love them,” I say, and his smile widens, clearly happy with my answer.
“I have a question for you now.”
I settle back against his body and take another sip of my wine, feeling good about what we are and how we’re progressing.
“Sure. Anything,” I say, wanting to be as open with him as he is with me.
“Tell me about your time at college,” he says, and my whole body stills. Fear ignites my blood, and my palms start to sweat. That is not what I was expecting. I thought he was going to ask more about my mom or even my upbringing with a single parent.
“I don’t want you to tell me anything you are not comfortable with, but the few times we have touched on it, I get the feeling it wasn’t the time of your life that you were expecting?” His hand rubs up and down my arm in a soothing motion. I swallow and nod, taking a steadying breath to calm my suddenly racing heart.
“I’ve never told anyone…” Sitting up again, I turn to look at him. I create a bit of distance, because I want to tell him; I just need to do it face-to-face. Again, his brow furrows, and I lean forward, putting my wineglass on the coffee table. I don’t know what he will think of me after I explain this. The professor always said I wasn’t to tell anyone, and I always blamed myself. Maybe Hudson will look at me differently. But I need to tell him. I firmly believe that for any close relationship to survive, you need honesty and openness. He just told me all about Amanda, so now I will do the same.
Hudson waits, his eyes searching my face, putting his glass down as well, obviously feeling the seriousness of this conversation. I clear my throat before I lay it all out there.
“The first few years were great. I met a couple of friends, had a few boyfriends. I mean, I studied hard and had a few part-time jobs to still help out Mom at home, but I guess it was exactly how you expect college to be,” I tell him, and he nods. I take another breath and wring my hands together in my lap before he shuffles forward, grabbing my hands in his, anchoring me. Closing my eyes, I try to find the courage to push through this shame that crawls at my chest, before I open them again and look right at him.
“Go on.” He encourages me with a softened tone, his face serious. I nod and take another breath.
“In my final year, things started to… change…”
He watches me carefully as I close my eyes and take another breath.
“There was this professor…” I say, and I feel his body harden, his grip on my hands firm. “He, um… he… It started when he asked me to stay back after class. He went through my marks with me on assignments. I thought it was a little weird at the time, because he didn’t seem to do that with anyone else from my class, but I thought maybe it was because I was struggling with the class.” I pause, and Hudson waits patiently.
“He offered to do some one-on-one tutoring, and at the time, I didn’t question it. He’s a leader in the college, very prestigious. It was somewhat of a privilege to be selected to get additional support. I didn’t think anything of it.” I try to breathe deep, my hands shaking a little in his hold.
“I stayed back after class, and he would go through a few things with me. But then…”
“Then what?” Hudson says, and I meet his murderous gaze. My heart sinks yet warms at his protectiveness.
“He just… Um… at first, I thought I was imagining things, but every week, whenever I stayed back after class, it kinda got a little more inappropriate each time. Initially, he just seemed to lean too close, but he had to look at my work over my shoulder, so it makes sense, right? I’d rationalize it like that. But the next session, he placed his hands on my shoulders, squeezing, and his hot breath would hit my neck as he got close. I didn’t like it. Everything about it made me uneasy. My grades improved, though, and maybe he just worked like that, I didn’t know.” Feeling sick to my stomach, I watch as Hudson’s jaw clenches.
“But then things progressed…”
“Progressed how?” he asks, and I swallow, wanting to vomit but pushing through.
“The weekly tutoring continued, and each week, he got more and more comfortable. He would pull up a chair and his leg would touch mine. Once, I was leaning over and writing something, and he grabbed my hair from behind and brushed it behind my back. I remember his fingers touching the bare skin at my neck,” I say and shiver, just thinking about that creepy-crawly sensation. “Then one week, I passed a particularly hard test, and after class, he hugged me. It wasn’t a quick congratulations kind of hug, but a long, drawn-out one. His hands held me too tight. I couldn’t pull away, and to be honest, I was shocked, so I just stood still. His hands ran up and down my back, and he leaned down to whisper in my ear how proud he was of me.”
“He was grooming you,” Hudson bites out.
“I recognize that now… Just not at the time…” I say, shaking my head, not proud of myself. I’m usually so much smarter than this.
“One day, he kept me after class and asked me if I had a boyfriend. When I said no, he ran his hand down my face, then down my neck, before his fingers hit the top of my breast, and he told me that he thought I was beautiful.” I push out a breath, hating reliving this. “I stepped away from him, held my books to my chest, and said I had to run before I was late to my next class. It was a total lie; I didn’t have any class after his that day, but I couldn’t stand being alone with him anymore. So I started to skip his class.”
Hudson nods in understanding. “What an asshole.”
“I skipped a few classes, my grades plummeted, and he sent me an email telling me to come to his office to talk about it, because if my grades continued as they were, then I was likely to fail his class. I was straight A student in almost every other class. I had to be because I was on a full scholarship. I couldn’t fail. It wasn’t an option,” I explain, almost imploring Hudson to understand.
“Let me guess, he knew this? He knew that you were a scholarship kid?”
“I hadn’t thought about that before, but yes. Yes, he would have seen that on my record.” I nod. “So I went to his office to meet him and discuss my grades. I was panicking because I didn’t want to fail, and I only had one semester left. I was so close to graduating. But I was also so scared…”
“What happened then?” Hudson asks, then gets up off the sofa and starts to pace the living room. I grab a cushion and bring it to my front, cuddling it before I continue.
“I went to his office and took a seat. He went through my grades, and none of it made sense. He said I was failing from the start of the semester, but that wasn’t possible because I passed everything up until I started skipping. So he must have gone back through and lowered my grades. He told me that the only way those grades would be changed back so I could pass his class was if I showed him my gratitude,” I say, and Hudson stops pacing to look right at me.
“What the fuck?” He’s not happy about any of this, that much is clear. I squeeze the cushion tighter, feeling extremely vulnerable, my heart pounding, but I know I need to push through.
“I didn’t know what to do or what to say, so I just sat there quietly. Scared. Shocked. My body almost couldn’t move. I felt like a deer caught in headlights or something. He stood up and walked toward me, leaned over my chair, and ran his hands through my hair. Then he said that a good first step would be for me to get on my knees… and… and then he started to undo his belt.” My voice quivers as my anxiety makes it feel like I’m shaking from the inside out. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t help because all I see is the visual of him that day. Hearing it all out loud makes me feel sick to the core. I’ve had it so bottled up for so long, my therapist the only person who knows.
Hudson remains quiet, staring at me in what looks like shock and rage.
“When I heard the clink of his belt, full-blown panic took over my body, and I bolted up from the chair. The movement caught him by surprise, because he stumbled back, not expecting it. His pants were around his ankles, so he kinda tripped but caught himself on the desk. It gave me enough room to rush past him to the door, but…” I have to pause as my eyes water.
Hudson rushes to me, kneeling on the floor at my feet, grabbing on to my hands and pulling me close to his chest as my tears start to fall.
“He had locked the door,” I choke out. “I didn’t realize he had. He must have done that when I walked in for the meeting. I just got it open when he slammed it shut and crowded me against the door. I could feel him… hard… on my back, and he buried his head into my neck and sniffed me. And then he said that I could go, but I wasn’t to say a word to anyone; otherwise, my mother would not survive her next round of treatment and that he also expected to see me in class the following week.” It isn’t until I finish the story that I feel my cheeks are wet and I’m fully sobbing. Hudson holds me tight, rubbing his hands up and down my back.
“It’s okay. I’m here, you’re safe. Lacy baby, I’ve got you,” he whispers, and my breaths calm little by little. Pulling back from him, I dry my eyes.
“I’m fine. It’s just a lot to revisit,” I explain, feeling that our romantic last night in New York is now ruined.
“What happened after that?” Hudson asks, and I shake my head.
“As soon as I left his office, I went straight to the administration team and told them I needed to finish my remaining subjects remotely due to my mother’s ill health. It was all on record that I might need to do that anyway, given her condition, and so I swapped to all online professors, moved back home, and I never saw him again. ”
“So you never went back for your graduation ceremony?” Hudson asks, and I shake my head once more. Wearing the black robe and hat is a rite of passage for every college student, but there was no way I was setting foot back at that college.
“And you never told anyone?”
“There’s no point. There are no witnesses, and no one would believe me over him,” I say, my tone one of dejection.
“Is that who messaged you that day in my kitchen? You got a message and your face just went white,” he asks, and I nod slowly. “Connor mentioned that you got flowers at the office?”
I swallow roughly and nod, knowing this is only going to upset him more.
“He sends me letters, emails…” I start to say, and Hudson’s expression turns furious.
“He still contacts you?”
“All the time. Calls me, texts me, but the flowers were new. He hasn’t done that before…” I tell him as nausea rolls through me.
“His behavior is escalating,” Hudson says, thinking to himself for a moment.
The silence makes me nervous, so I can’t help but blurt, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, I just—”
“Don’t apologize. Everything in your own time, Lacy. But I’m here for you. I want you to know that.”
I take in a deep breath, feeling a little lighter for sharing as I look into his eyes and see the support and protectiveness there .
“I know some people at that college. What was his name?”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past. I don’t want to ever think about it again. But I wanted to be honest with you.”
“He is still trying to contact you, Lacy—hell, unwanted calls, emails, and now flowers. It isn’t right.”
I know what he is saying is true, but I just can’t think about it. “I can’t…” I whisper, my heart pounding.
“But what if he is doing this to someone else? Someone who doesn’t have the courage to leave like you did?”
That has my pulse stuttering as goosebumps pepper my skin.
“I hadn’t thought of that. But it’s only my word against his. He’s one of their top professors, and I’m just a scholarship kid.”
Hudson’s shoulders are rigid with tension as his eyes bore into mine with intention. “I will get everyone at that college fucking fired.”
I’m shaking my head as I respond, unable to process all this. “I know how frustrating, horrible, and sick it is. But I just can’t deal with it, with everything happening with Mom and work being so busy. Besides, it’s just me against him. I can’t win that battle.”
“It’s no longer just you, Lacy baby. You have me firmly in your corner. I’m here to support you with anything you need. I have access to the top lawyers, powerful people. I will make him pay. All I need is a name,” Hudson says, and I think about his words.
“He wants me to go back, do a face-to-face semester over the summer.” I huff a laugh because he might be a professor, but he is somewhat delusional if he thinks I will ever see him again.
“That’s so out of line. You do know none of it is your fault. He was preying on you. Hell, he still is, by the sounds of it. I want to bury him. Just give me a name. Just say the word.” He looks about ready to jump up off the sofa again and start calling the police himself.
“Let me think about it,” I say quietly, needing time to sit with my thoughts and get a handle on my emotions. I don’t want to dig up the past, but if there is another woman going through what I did, or even worse, then I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
“But Hudson… please, promise me you won’t say or do anything? Promise me you won’t tell a soul, and if I decide to do something about it, I will come to you, and we can do it together. But promise you won’t do anything without me,” I almost beg him.
Hudson sighs as he looks at me, perplexed and obviously struggling, before he nods.
“I promise. I won’t do anything until you are ready.”
I nod, grateful to now drop the subject. But I’m relieved I told him. There is nothing between us now. He knows all of me, and I know all of him.