Chapter 8
eight
ZACH
There’s a lump in my throat as big as a fucking boulder as I walk out of her office, closing the door behind me. Jesus Christ, what a shit show.
And apparently I’m the Chief Shit.
“Is everything okay?” Romy asks, looking up from the counter. She has a stack of books that she’s wrapping. Making folds, sticking postcards, and stickers into them like she’s some kind of origami magician.
“Yeah.” I let out a breath, because it’s a lie. I made her upset, and I hate it. “But can you check on Sadie in a bit?”
“What?” Her brows furrow as she stops folding and looks up at me. “What did you do in there?”
I can’t tell her. I’ve invaded Sadie’s privacy enough already. The woman’s never going to talk to me again. I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter.”
Romy looks at me for a long moment before she pulls something out from beneath the counter. “By the way, I grabbed you a copy, I assume you don’t already have one.”
I frown, walking over to see what she’s holding out. Then I see the thick volume in her hands. Jane Eyre.
“Take it,” she says. “It’s yours.”
So I do. Because I think I’ve already pissed enough people off today. “Thanks. How much?”
“Seventeen ninety-nine.”
I slip her a twenty and tuck the book beneath my arm, not waiting for the change as I head out of the door into the warm outside air.
One deep breath of salty air makes me decide a walk is what I need to clear my thoughts. So I stride across Main Street, toward the ferry road, the Atlantic a sparkling blue in front of me.
The ferry itself is halfway across the water to the mainland, the dock empty of cars, and I walk down the middle of the road, waving at Eileen as she beats the hell out of a rug on the porch of her inn.
At the end of the lane is the Salty Dog, the beach bar my sister-in-law inherited from her dad.
Hudson’s sitting out front, sunglasses on, his son tucked against his chest, while Skyler helps Ayda with her homework, Barney snoring at their feet.
“Hey,” Skyler says, beaming at me. “Look at you outside during the daytime. I guess I lose my bet that you’re a vampire.”
“Just wanted some fresh air.” I incline my head at the beach. “Thought I’d take a walk.”
Skyler and Hudson exchange a look I can’t quite understand. Then without any words exchanged between them, Skyler takes their son from Hudson, being careful not to wake him as she sits back down and keeps talking to Ayda.
“Want some company?” Hudson asks.
I don’t, really. But he looks so damn hopeful. “Yeah, sure.” I nod. “Sounds good.”
Hudson stands, stretching like a man who’s content with his life. He rolls his shoulders and falls into step beside me as we head toward the beach. The sand crunches under our shoes, the tide sliding in with an easy rhythm.
“So,” he says after we’ve been walking for a minute or two. “You look like a man who just lost a fight he didn’t know he was in.”
I huff out a laugh. I’m way too easy to read. “Something like that.”
He glances at me, that half-smile of his doing its usual job of making me feel both seen and mildly irritated. “Want to tell me who the unlucky opponent was?”
I shake my head. “No opponent. Just… me being me.”
“Which means?”
“An asshole,” I say. “You know, the usual.”
Hudson’s quiet for a second. “That line worked better when you were nineteen and trying to impress girls.”
“I’m not trying to impress anyone.” Which is a good thing, because I’m so far from impressive it isn’t funny.
He kicks at the sand, his voice gentler. “You ever think maybe you don’t have to keep proving you don’t care about things? Maybe it’s okay to… care.”
I stare out at the horizon, at the shimmer of light where the sea meets the sky. “Caring got me nowhere before.”
“Then maybe you’ve been caring about the wrong people.”
Yeah, well apparently I’m not anymore.
Thinking about the expression on Sadie’s face as she yelled at me for stealing her book makes something sharp twist in my chest. I shift my arms, trying to make it leave, and Jane Eyre falls from my pocket, landing on the sand with a slap.
Hudson bends down and picks it up, dusting the grains of sand off before he hands it to me. “Read it yet?” he asks.
“Nope. You?”
“Read it during college. But I’ll read it again before our next club.” He smiles. “I don’t want to incur the wrath of Romy.”
I turn the book over, seeing the front image. “Does it remind you of me?”
Hudson laughs gently. “You should probably read it and decide for yourself.”
Yeah, well maybe I’m done with reading.
“What’s going on?” Hudson asks. “This can’t be about the Book Club. I’ve never seen you so… I don’t know. Not full of yourself.”
I almost laugh at that. Hudson can be such an asshole.
But he’s probably right.
“Ah, I’m just having a moment,” I tell him. “It’ll work out in the end.”
He takes a long breath, and I fucking know that sound. It’s the prelude to a Hudson lecture. I used to get them all the time when I was younger. Being the eldest, he thought he knew everything.
“You know,” he says softly, his voice mixing in with the breeze. “I hurt Skyler real bad when we first got together.” There are clouds reflected in his eyes. “She was pregnant and I pushed her away.”
I know this, but I let him talk. It’s usually easier that way.
“I said things I shouldn’t have. Accused her of things she hadn’t done. I still regret those words.” He looks at me. “But you know, the mark of a man isn’t that he doesn’t fuck up. It’s what he does afterward. How he tries to make things better.”
Well that hit too close to the mark. “And how do you do that?” I ask him. Because right now I think Sadie’s probably stabbing pins into a doll of me.
Hudson shrugs. “I guess you show it. There are times when the only way to let somebody know how sorry you are is to model it. To let go of the control and let them take the lead. I met Skyler where she needed me to meet her. Kept being there. Kept showing I care. Eventually she started to believe me.”
I let out a long breath. He means well. And I’m so damn happy he kept working on things. But Sadie isn’t Skyler. I’m not in love with her. I just… find her attractive. I like her, even though she hates me.
And right now, I think meeting her where she needs me might mean disappearing altogether.
“I need to resign from the Art Committee,” I say.
Hudson blinks at my abrupt turn in conversation.
“I’m busy and it’s taking up too much of my time. Sadie’s got it handled. She’s all set to go.”
“Are you leaving Liberty sooner than planned?” he asks, his voice thick.
“No.” I shake my head, not wanting to think about why I’m staying. Or what I need to tell them. “I just want to concentrate on other things.”
He runs his thumb along his jaw. “Does this have something to do with Sadie? I know you two started off on a bad note.”
I shake my head again. “Not at all. She’s good. She’s fine.” And I think she hates me. “Listen, I have to go. I have a call in an hour. Thanks for the walk. It’s been good to chat.”
Hudson studies me for a moment. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m always okay.” It’s the easiest lie I know.
He doesn’t call me on it, just gives a slow nod. “Then I’ll see you later.”
When he walks away, the quiet rushes back in. The world feels too still.
I turn toward the dock, the wind picking up and carrying the sharp scent of salt and seaweed. Gulls cry overhead, and somewhere down the beach a boat horn sounds.
I’ll call Autumn later. Tell her the committee doesn’t need me. It’s the least I can do. And then I’ll figure out how to make it up to the pretty bookseller whose face keeps me up at night.
Because not talking to her ever again isn’t something I can contemplate right now.
It’s after midnight when I finally head to bed. First, I had to deal with Larry’s meltdown because he had an asshole customer who sent him spiralling, then with Autumn, who threw a fit because I want to resign from the committee.
But finally, I’m alone in my bedroom, my reading glasses on, Jane Eyre open between my hands, and one thought hits me fast.
Edward Rochester is a grade A asshole.
Seriously, he treats Jane like she’s a piece of crap. He’s careless and unkind and she doesn’t deserve any of it.
And Romy thinks this is my book? She thinks this is how I behave? I don’t like that one little bit.
When I get to the end of the chapter I sigh and put it on the bedside table, trying not to think of the day when I’ll find reading a book impossible. But as I lay it down, I see the other book there. Staring up at me like I’m a bigger asshole than Rochester.
The one I stole from Sadie.
I pick it up, and make a decision. I know I need to return it. And for some reason, I decide the right time is now. Getting out of bed, I grab a piece of paper and scribble an apology, then slide it and the book inside a large envelope.
It takes me less than five minutes to pull on my clothes, grab my keys, and head out of the apartment to my car.
The streets are empty. I like the way I don’t see another living soul as I follow the lanes to Main Street, my only company the slow soulful voice of Bon Iver. Because apparently I’ve gone full-emo now.
When I reach the shop, I slide the envelope through the letterbox, hearing it hit the floor inside with a clunk. And I picture her in the morning, picking it up, knowing I was here.
Maybe a better man would have given it to her in person. But I’m not a better man. Plus, she made it clear she doesn’t want to see me.
I can at least give her that.
I walk back to the car, clicking the lock open and climbing inside. That’s it. Done. She’s better off without me and my grumpy ass. Let her have her fantasies, God knows somebody should.
But as I drive home, I don’t feel any better. I don’t feel much of anything at all except annoyed at myself. Because I upset her. And that wasn’t my damn intention at all.
And when I’m back in bed, the ceiling stares down at me. I close my eyes, but the image of her is still there. Her eyes. The flush on her cheeks. The way her breath hitched before she told me to leave.
Only an asshole would be turned on by her righteous indignation.
Which makes me the biggest asshole on Liberty.
Dammit. The book’s gone. I’m off the committee. She never has to see me again if she doesn’t want to. For once in my life I’ve done the right thing.
So why the hell do I feel even worse?