8. Lance
Chapter 8
It had been a week since the massage and sex.
A week since my biggest regret.
And yet, I couldn’t make myself forget it. Couldn’t will it from my mind.
I was pissed off.
Selfishly, it felt like I’d given in.
Like I’d lost a challenge.
Like Hudson had gotten his way, and I was left to pick up the pieces.
But, deep in my gut, I knew I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Which was why I’d been making myself scarce around Hudson.
We’d talked a bit, but I kept it business-only when he tried to bring up the possibility of making this a casual thing. When Hudson would show up, I’d find myself suddenly busy and needing to do something elsewhere.
It was exhausting—mentally and emotionally because I wanted to be near him, but it felt like the only way I could keep the distance Hudson longed for.
I hated it.
“Okay, you’ve been avoiding me for a week,” Hudson said, cornering me in the office of the Sweet I’d rather be friends and work together than lose you in my life.”
Hudson nodded. “Yeah, me too.”
My words were the truth. I really would rather he be in my life as just a friend than not at all.
But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to do every single thing in my power to win him over. Hudson had a huge loss in his life. He had a hole in his heart. I was determined to show him that not all relationships ended in pain—and I needed him by my side as we both learned what true love was.
I knew I had my work cut out for me, but I was up for the challenge.
Hudson was worth it.
And even if we didn’t end up together, he still deserved to know he was good enough for love.
I wanted to be the one who gave him that gift.
It took me about one week to put together a plan and another week to set things into motion.
During that time, Hudson and I worked side-by-side.
Almost like nothing had changed.
No matter where we were, the shop, the store, the bar, the orchard, we flirted more than we had before. I don’t know if it was a way to cover for what had happened between us or if it was just a natural happening between two people who were drawn to each other.
The flirting was absolute torture, but also so damn fun.
Henry noticed it for sure, but he just shot a smile and a shake of his head our way.
Casey Joe was so wrapped up in his own grief, he didn’t seem to notice much of anything. I’d spent a lot of time with my friend, but I wasn’t sure he was getting any better. He had a lot going for him, but until he was ready to get out of the blackness, nothing I said or did could pull him out.
Each day that passed, each day that found me working side-by-side with him, I fell harder and deeper for Hudson.
There was no question in my mind he was my person.
It didn’t make sense to feel what I felt for someone so much younger than me, but there was no getting around it. What I felt for Hudson was more than anything I’d felt for anyone in my life. Not just infatuation. Not a crush. It was real and all-consuming.
And I remained committed to convincing him he could trust me—showing him that real love was worth the risk.
“You still good with me stealing Hudson away a little early tonight?” I asked Henry.
He threw a disgruntled look my way. “What?” He glanced at his hands and curled his lip. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Someone or something has been going through the trash. Made a huge mess and I’ve got garbage juice all over me.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Gross. Animal?”
“That’s what I thought at first, but animals usually eat pretty much anything they find. This seemed to be picked through.” Henry washed his hands. “Never mind, sorry, what were you saying?”
“Still willing to help me get Hudson away early today?”
Henry smirked. “You remember he doesn’t date, right? I don’t know how you think you’re going to get him to agree to a date.”
“He’s not going to know it’s a date,” I said with a shrug. “It’s an undercover date.”
“You’re going to trick him into a date?”
“That’s the plan.”
Henry eyed me. “I don’t see how it’s going to work, but yeah, I’ll tell him to head out early and you can do what you need to do.”
Hudson walked into the main bar from the back a couple minutes later. “What’s up with the trash?” he asked. “Looks like some panicked kid went through each bag searching for a retainer or something.”
I chuckled, nostalgia washing over me as I recalled a very frantic Hudson searching through the trash for his retainer back when he was about thirteen. I’d had garbage up to my elbows, but we’d found it and Casey Joe had been none the wiser.
“Yeah,” Henry huffed, “I don’t know. Kinda worried we’ve got a hungry person dumpster diving, but they’ve been getting in the bags by the door before I even get them to the dumpster.” He frowned. “Hate the idea someone is that hungry.”
If I knew Henry the way I thought I did, he’d start setting out covered plates of food on the picnic table out back if he had even the slightest thought there was someone in need of food.
Hudson’s eyes softened as he watched his brother, and I knew we’d had the same thought. “Well, at least it’s warm right now. Would hate for you to have to give them five blankets instead of the pillow and two blankets I can already see you planning on.”
Henry’s cheeks pinked, but he didn’t deny what we all knew he’d been thinking.
Hudson slapped his brother on the shoulder. “Lance and I were going to go over some paperwork—the swag items have sold like hotcakes, we’ve gotta get some more ordered and go through inventory—but I can help in about an hour if that sounds good.”
Henry, seemingly lost in thought, was quiet for a moment. I cleared my throat and he jerked out of his fog. “Huh?”
“I can help in about an hour?” Hudson repeated.
“Oh, um, don’t need you today. I told Darla she could have her daughter come in and help for some extra cash. The girl’s going on a vacation with friends and needs to some spending money.”
“I’m sure there’s something I can do,” Hudson said.
“Nah, take a break. You deserve it, been working your ass off.”
Hudson looked annoyed, but he just nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He made his way to the back muttering something about what the hell am I supposed to do with a break?
A few minutes later, he reappeared with two colas in icy glasses and nodded toward our usual table in the back. “You hungry? Or just the Coke?”
I shook my head. My plan involved food, but not until later. “I’m good, thanks.”
We settled into the booth and spread out our paperwork.
The numbers and conversation flowed easily, and I mostly forgot the fact I’d had my hands on his body, his mouth on my cock, and my dick buried in his ass.
Almost.
I was trying really hard, but I wasn’t dead.
When we finished up—the books matched, we’d made an amazing profit, and we had a definite need to order new merchandise—I tucked everything away in my bag and moaned a yawn.
“You’re damn lucky you get a break,” I said. “You do deserve it.”
Hudson crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “Don’t need a damn break. What am I supposed to do with a break? Take a bubble bath?”
I chuckled. “For someone who knows the importance of others taking time for themselves, you kinda suck at it for yourself.” I did want Hudson to learn how to relax, but right then, I was counting on him not wanting to.
“Just feels like I’m wasting time if I’m resting or relaxing,” he grumbled.
“Well, I’ve got a shit-ton of errands to run if you feel like joining me,” I said, hoping I sounded nonchalant. “But I’ll warn you now, you’ll probably be bored.”
Hudson threw his notebook into his bag and beamed. “No more bored than I’d be stuck at home trying to meditate or some shit.”
I laughed. “You do know that taking a break can be as simple as reading a book, watching a movie, or having a beer on the front porch, right? Doesn’t have to be meditation or yoga or crocheting an afghan.”
“Yeah, whatever, I’d still rather run errands. Let’s go.”
Score.
“We can take my truck,” I offered as we exited the bar into a bright, hot Haven Grove summer.
Hudson and I climbed into my late-model Ford truck and set off.
The first stop was the hardware store to grab parts for some of the machines at the Sweet & Creamy. Hudson chatted about the peach trees and ended up buying repair parts for his irrigation system—which not only kept the orchard alive during drought conditions, but also provided frost and freeze protection—and the wind machines he’d put in near the youngest portion of the orchard. The wind machines had been a hefty investment, even more so than the irrigation system Billy had splurged on, but both were absolutely necessary to keep the trees and fruit healthy. The only thing that could wipe out a grove of peach trees faster than a hard freeze was disease or hail, and Hudson had slowly been adding netting over the most vulnerable portions of the orchard to protect from the latter.
“Didn’t tell many people about the bacterial spot because I didn’t want folks to worry,” Hudson said as we loaded our purchases into the truck. “But Billy’d missed it or just didn’t care, so when I took over, it looked like it could have been the end of us. Got that farmer from down south to check it out and he gave me some advice. Looks like we saved it, based on how good the trees look now. Guess we’ll just have to keep an eye on it. Now, if we can get through with no late-season frosts or summer hailstorms, we’ll be golden.”
I absolutely loved listening to Hudson talk about his work, especially the peaches. He may not have thought himself a peach farmer, but it was in his blood—whether he realized it or not—and he was damn good at it, even if it got foisted on him.
“I need to pick up some groceries, you wanna go or head back to get your truck?” I asked.
Hudson gestured toward the highway exit. “I might as well pick up some shit too. I try to buy most of my stuff from the shop if I can, but sometimes the big discount stores are just smarter for the money.”
We found ourselves sharing a cart, wandering around the discount store as we talked about Henry, Casey Joe, Haven Grove, and our businesses. I couldn’t help thinking about what it would be like if we were together, buying groceries for our shared place. On a real date night—one Hudson knew was happening and wanted to be on.
“I’ve got a cooler in the truck, we can grab some ice if we need to keep anything cold,” I suggested.
“I’m good. I’ll get my milk at the shop.”
“You still like whole milk?” I asked, remembering the toe-headed kid who refused any milk other than whole-fat.
Hudson wrinkled his nose. “I prefer real milk. Let me guess, you still like that milk-water shit?”
I laughed. “Skim milk is real milk, it’s just free of the fat.”
“Free of fat, free of flavor, free of anything that makes it actual milk,” Hudson said. “Remember you trying to make me eat my cereal with that when Henry and I stayed at your place one weekend? Might as well have just poured water on the Frosted Flakes.”
“When you’re my age, you have to sacrifice for your health,” I said, only partly teasing.
Hudson scoffed. “Whatever. First, this was back when you were younger than I am now. You didn’t need to sacrifice anything. Second, look at you. You’re clearly healthy. It’s okay to admit you just like shitty milk.”
I didn’t mind the compliment or the zing of desire it sent through me, and I didn’t miss the heat in Hudson’s eyes.
In the checkout line, I grabbed a share-size bag of chips, M&Ms, and two sodas. If Hudson noticed, he didn’t say anything—probably assumed I wanted a snack at home. We split up our groceries, paid our bills, and headed out to the truck.
The day was beyond warm—not an all-out scorcher, but hot enough we were both sweating by the time we finished loading our groceries. I’d gone ahead and gotten ice for the cooler, so I threw the sodas and chocolate in, along with a few cold items I’d picked up in the store.
“Damn, it’s hot,” Hudson complained as I pulled the truck out of the parking lot.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Sorry, the truck doesn’t have the greatest air conditioning.” I pointed toward the movie theater. “Remember the time I took you and Henry to watch X-Men that summer? You two just about froze to death and I ended up getting a blanket from my truck to cover you up while you wiped butter all over your shorts and slurped your drinks.”
Hudson laughed. “I remember.” He wiped at his brow. “Damn, if this is what it feels like now, hate to see it as the summer goes on. Movie theater air conditioning sounds good right about now.”
I gestured with my chin toward the marquee. “They only play old stuff now, but tickets are just two dollars on weekdays. Wanna go watch,” I paused and squinted, pretending to read the sign—like I hadn’t already checked to see what was playing and been thrilled that fate lined it up to be Hudson’s favorite movie from way back when—“um, looks like Jeepers Creepers. Didn’t you like that movie when you were a kid?”
“No way,” Hudson said, dipping his head to look at the movie theater marquee. “That’s my favorite scary movie. Got the flower tattoo and everything.”
I’d rolled my eyes back when eighteen-year-old Hudson had gotten the Jeepers Creepers flower tattoo inked around his belly button. I hadn’t been rolling my eyes at the few glimpses I’d caught of the ink ever since coming back to town.
“Wanna go cool off and relive your childhood?” I asked, doing my best to play it cool.
“I was only eleven when it came out, definitely shouldn’t have been watching it,” Hudson said, lost in memories. “But Dad wasn’t super stringent on that type of stuff, and you pretty much let Henry and me do whatever we wanted as long as Dad didn’t flat-out say no. Billy wasn’t paying much attention. So, Henry and I scared ourselves shitless watching it. Kept up with all the other titles that came out, too.”
Taking his nostalgic jabbering as a yes, I pulled into the theater parking lot and killed the engine. I wasn’t sure it would have been as easy to get Hudson to watch a movie with me if the theater hadn’t been playing this one, so I threw up a quick thank you to anyone listening and grabbed the sodas from the cooler.
“Can we take these in?” Hudson asked.
“Yeah, they don’t check. Here.” I handed him a bottle and the candy while I took a bottle and the chips.
Heat from the blacktop seeped into our shoes as we crossed the blazing parking lot. Summer in Haven Grove was hot, but the temperature was above average for this time of the year. “You think this heat is gonna hurt the peaches?” I asked.
“Nah, they’re a lot more at risk of disease, hail, or freeze than the heat. We’ve got the trunks and exposed branches whitewashed so they’re good.”
“Here, hold this, I’ll pay. I’ve got a five and I’ll drop a twenty in the tip jar to keep them from noticing our snacks.” I handed the chips and drink to Hudson.
“Thought you said they don’t check,” he whispered, trying to hide the bottles and packages.
Chuckling, I pulled a five from my pocket. “I mean, they don’t search bags, but I’m sure they’d have something to say if I put a soda right up there on the ticket counter.”
Hudson tucked the bottles under one arm, shoved the M&Ms in his back pocket, and attempted to shield the chips in his hand. “Well, hurry up, I feel like I’m smuggling contraband.”
I laughed and headed toward the outside ticket window while Hudson loitered by the door. With a smile and a thank you to the girl who popped her gum and handed over the tickets, I dropped the twenty into the tip jar. Joining Hudson by the door, I pulled it open and let my fingers just barely graze the small of his back as he walked past me.
“Oh god,” he said with a moan. “It’s like heaven.” The cold air washed over us as we took in the tiny concession counter with bottled water, two types of canned soda, and packaged popcorn. “Damn, how does this place stay in business with two-dollar tickets?”
I shrugged. “They play old movies, I doubt it costs much to play them. They only have two screens—they play one kid movie every three days and one adult movie. Saturday has a children’s matinee and a date-night movie. I drove over here my first night back home, wanted to see how things around us had changed or stayed the same. I think it’s kinda a staple here because the whole theater was packed. I don’t know how they’ll stay open with prices everywhere going up, but they seem to be making do for now.”
“Well, as long as they can keep the air on, I’m in.” Hudson lifted his chin toward the Jeepers Creepers sign, and I led the way, dropping our ticket stubs in the slot where a person should have been standing. “Guess they save money by keeping a skeleton crew,” Hudson said, following me into the dark theater.
As much as I wanted to sit in a far, back corner and make out like horny teens, the movie theater on our first not-a-date date wasn’t the time or place. Hudson was all for the physical stuff, he needed to see how good we could be with the other side of things as well.
He glanced down toward the front, chuckled, shook his head, and pointed toward two empty seats about midway up. I nodded and followed.
“What was funny?” I asked when we settled into our seats.
Hudson scoffed. “Just remembering how much Henry and I liked to sit way down close when we were kids. Hell, if I did that now, I’d have a crick in my neck for a damn week.”
“I’d have a headache within minutes,” I said, shivering at the thought of sitting in the front row.
The theater filled up quickly and, as the first round of previews came on, there were only a couple seats left unoccupied.
“Maybe they do all right,” Hudson said, taking in the large number of people. He nodded toward the screen. “And the advertising for local businesses between previews is a great idea.”
As soon as his words were out, we both stared at each other.
“We should do that,” we said at the same time and then laughed.
“Grab that number when the next ad comes on,” I told him.
We devoured the bag of Cheetos before the previews were even over, our hands bumping gently as we took turns digging out handfuls. Soon, the chips were gone and we both opened our sodas and took long drinks. Hudson tore open the M&Ms and poured some in my cupped hand before settling in to pick through his. Like lightning, I recalled his habit of eating only the brown M&Ms.
“You still do that?” I asked, sifting through my handful and moving the brown ones to his hand.
He shrugged. “The brown ones seem more natural.”
“You know they use dye on the brown ones too, right?”
He grinned. “Just let me enjoy my chocolate in peace.”
I shook my head and took the colorful candies he offered me as the final preview came on screen.
When the actual movie started, Hudson sighed, settled back in his seat, and turned a grin my way. “This is gonna be epic.”
My heart soared. Spending time with Hudson, even if he thought it was just a day of errands and staying cool in a dark theater, was everything to me. The fact he was excited to watch Jeepers Creepers—when I knew he’d seen it at least fifty times over the years—and he was relaxed and doing something that wasn’t considered work, meant the day was an absolute success.
Getting to watch the movie I’d only seen once or twice with Hudson by my side was icing on the cake.
The first time his finger brushed mine, I thought it was likely an accident. But when he continued to make contact throughout the movie, I couldn’t help but smile. Hudson may have wanted to claim he didn’t do relationships, didn’t want to be involved with romance, had no desire to take things further with anyone—but he was an absolute romantic at heart.
We didn’t hold hands—despite how badly I wanted to wrap our fingers together—but we teased and flirted, tiny caresses of fingers, bumps of elbows, shoulders brushing. Hudson mouthed lines of the movie the whole way through and chuckled at me when I jumped at a few parts.
By the time the movie ended, I knew I’d never watch Jeepers Creepers again without my heart warming and thinking of Hudson. I’d never thought of myself as a hopeless romantic, but my heart had already traveled to the future where we celebrated each year with Cheetos, M&Ms, soda, and Jeepers Creepers while holding hands and wondering what we did before we found each other.
“You good?” Hudson asked, pulling me from my imagination. I was so fucked.
“Huh? Yeah,” I answered quickly. “Just haven’t watched that in years. There were parts I’d forgotten.”
“I love scary movies and there are some that would definitely give that one a run for its money, but I have to say it stays at the top of my list—probably because of the memories it brings back,” Hudson said as we walked out of the theater, a blast of hot air taking our breaths. “Fuck, it’s hotter than when we went in.”
I laughed. “Or it feels that way since we’ve been sitting in ice-cold air for nearly three hours.” Glancing at my phone and sending up a prayer that I could get one more win for the day. “I know we had snacks, but I’m starving. You okay if we stop at that steak place on the edge of town before we head back home?”
Hudson’s stomach growled and we both laughed. “Yeah, sounds good.”
I pointed the truck toward the steakhouse and we chatted about the movie and the three that followed in the franchise. Once we got to the restaurant and settled into our tiny booth at the back of the place—I said another thank you to whoever was listening for this being the only table open when we walked in because Hudson and I were pressed together at the tiny table on the rounded booth bench—Hudson cleared his throat. “You think Dad is doing worse?”
I took a long sip of water. “Yeah, I do. He didn’t look good when I got back, but I think he’s looking worse now.”
Hudson nodded. “Henry and I were talking about it. He used to at least hit the gym, but I haven’t seen him do much other than drink beer and eat pizza ever since Billy died.” He scanned the menu and said thanks to the kid who brought us a basket of bread. “After you left, he went on a couple dates, but always refused to talk about them, so I figured he was either just hooking up or they turned out terrible.”
I snorted. “He did that before I left too, you would have been too young to know what he was doing. But nights you and Henry got to spend with Billy or me usually meant he was on a date.” I tore off a piece of bread and slathered it in butter. “I don’t think he was looking for love, but I think he would have been happy to find a partner if it worked out that way.”
Hudson was quiet for a while. “I know we can’t force him to get help or make better choices, he has to be the one to decide and commit, but I’m worried about him. He’s not healthy.” He shook his head. “I’m the last one to talk when it comes to moving on after what our mom did, but I wish he’d at least get himself out there and a bit healthier. He deserves to be happy, but he won’t ever get that if he ends up having a heart attack at fifty-three.” He ran a hand over his face. “Sorry, that’s morbid, but it’s where my head’s been lately.”
I shook my head. “No, I get it. You’re right. We’re not getting any younger and our health doesn’t come as easy as it once did. Maybe I’ll see if he wants to take a run or hit the gym.”
Hudson wrinkled his nose. “The gym is a hell-hole.”
“True,” I agreed. “Maybe we’ll start with just walking through the orchard.”
Our waitperson came to take our order.
“You know he doesn’t go into the orchard unless it’s an absolute must, right?” Hudson asked.
I nodded. “Yeah, I know he’s got a thing about the orchard. But we can walk the perimeter at least.”
Hudson shredded his napkin. “He used to tell us about how he fell in love with Mom in the orchard. It was a summer night with a cool breeze blowing in ahead of a storm. The moon was full and Missy sang ‘It Must Have Been Love’ by Roxette.” Hudson gave a humorless chuckle. “Back then, I listened to that song a thousand times thinking about how much in love they must have been. I figured out when I got older that the song was a bad omen to begin with.” He crumpled up the napkin scraps. “As a kid, I wanted that big, true love I thought they had. Then I realized they were doomed as early as the first night Dad fell for her—at least that story smartened me up to avoid their mistakes.”
Our food arrived and we started eating. “Their mistakes aren’t yours. Their fate isn’t yours.”
Hudson scoffed. “How could they not be? They made me, I’m part of them.”
I shook my head. “They were young. Missy was messed up. She messed your dad up. What happened between them isn’t your fault or your destiny.”
Hudson was quiet for a while. “Well, it’s not like I’m going to fall in love and dance by moonlight in the peach orchard,” he joked, but his words were gruff.
I let it go and we enjoyed our meal.
“This is good,” Hudson said, “but don’t tell Henry. The roadhouse is great, but sometimes it’s nice to get food elsewhere.”
“Stepping away is good,” I said. “But coming home…it just feels right.”
Hudson’s bright eyes met mine and he just nodded.
We split the bill—I had no idea how to get Hudson to agree to let me pay for dinner—and climbed into the truck.
“Good day?” I asked.
Hudson sighed. “Yeah, a lot better than sitting around doing nothing.”
“Well, at least you got to relax a bit,” I said.
“I didn’t—” He cut off. “Damn, guess I did. Okay,” he said with a chuckle, “it wasn’t too bad.”
“Tell me again why you don’t date?” I asked, biting my inner cheek to keep from smiling as my old truck carried us closer to home.
“Can’t trust it,” Hudson said. “Sounds good in theory, but then feelings get involved. It’s best to just avoid dating at all costs.”
“What’s a date in your mind?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Going somewhere together? Movie? Dinner?”
“Mmhm,” I hummed.
He was quiet for a moment and then he huffed out a chuckle. “You fuckin’ dirty bastard, you tricked me into a date.”
“Did you have a good time?” I asked.
Hudson pursed his lips. “Fuck you, yeah, I did.”
I laughed. “Mission accomplished.”
When I dropped him at his truck, Hudson got out, grabbed his groceries, and walked around to my window. “Thanks, I guess. Maybe dates with you wouldn’t be so bad.”
I cocked a brow.
“Not committing to anything.”
“Of course, not,” I said with a smirk.
He knocked a fist against my truck door before heading to his truck.
“Hudson?” I said, my words like gravel.
“Yeah.” He threw a look over his shoulder.
“I had fun,” I said.
“Me too.”
“I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
His brows drew together, but then he broke into a grin. “Yeah, well, we’ll see. I don’t date…”
I raised both brows.
“But for you, my gay ass might not turn down another dinner and movie,” he said before biting his lip and turning toward his truck.
I floated all the way home like a damn teenager—like I wasn’t over half a century old just asking to get my ass handed to me by falling for my best friend’s son.