60. Chapter 58
Hudson
“What time does she normally arrive?” I ask, turning away from the arched bay windows.
“She is typically on time, so about ten-ish,” Darcy replies as he continues to unravel the ropes in various shades of green from his duffel bag.
While he has regular street clothes on, he has me in beige sweats and no shirt. I drew the line at the spandex briefs designed to make me look like a Ken doll.
Beside him are two chairs, their backs to each other. They remind me of school chairs, mostly backless, with a wooden seat and thin metal struts.
“And basically, we are going to sit back to back, holding hands for the first sketch?”
“That’s the plan.” He loops the light green rope into a coil and places it by a chair.
“Then I’d like to have her suspended above your head, with her arm reaching out to you.
Which means you’ll have to sit on the floor and reach up to her.
Your hands won’t be touching, but the ropes will be supporting your arm as well. ”
He has told me this a couple of times already, but I barely slept last night, which has left my brain a little sluggish.
What sleep I did get was not restful, and I’ve already taken painkillers for the headache sitting behind my temples.
Dreams plagued any sleep I did manage—of Emery leaving before she even entered the studio, of her spending the entire time crying, of her not showing up at all.
I may as well not have slept, at least I wouldn’t have those mental images in my head.
Turning back to the window, I don’t bother to offer Darcy help again, since he has already turned me down twice. The man has a real thing about anyone messing with his process, which I can appreciate from a purely theoretical point of view.
The headache is not improved by my jittery nerves. I haven’t physically laid eyes on Emery since Monday, and I haven’t touched her since we found her in that rundown house. Though that was only two weeks ago today, it feels like months.
This might be my last opportunity to connect with her in person. Unless I manufacture another reason.
“Oh, ah, h-hi,” stutters a female voice from behind me that I would recognize anywhere.
I force myself to take a deep breath and turn around slowly, needing to maintain my calm and controlled demeanor—externally, at least. Internally, my organs are trying to escape my skin, but our girl doesn’t need to know that.
She needs us in levelheaded and in control.
We’ve put her on the back foot with me being here, she needs to see that everything is fine and that there is no need to be scared.
“Hey, princess.” Darcy rises from his crouched position with a smile on his face. “Ready for today?”
Emery’s eyes dart toward me and then back to Darcy, her grip around the strap of her backpack turning her knuckles white. “Yeah. I just, I wasn’t expecting an audience.”
Darcy waves a dismissive hand in my direction. “He’s here as a prop. It was either Hudson or Bertie, my prop model, and I figured you’d be more comfortable with Hudson. Just think of him like a life-sized doll. There but inanimate. He’ll enjoy that.”
Several emotions flicker over her features, and it’s like watching a rapid-fire slideshow.
Confusion. Shock. Amusement. Embarrassment. Interest. Irritation. Heartbreak.
For a second, I think she is going to fight the situation, but then her head sags and she nods. She all but hugs the wall as she heads over to the makeshift changing area that Darcy has set up.
Once she is hidden from view, Darcy comes to stand next to me, concern pulling at his features, and whispers so that she won’t hear us. “Something’s wrong.”
“Agreed. Do you think it’s because Xavier is gone for the weekend?” With every fiber of my being, I want to fix whatever the problem is for her, if she will let us. Xavier being gone isn’t something I can fix, per say, but I am more than willing to substitute myself into his spot in her dorm.
Darcy shrugs, then shakes his head. “Honestly, I have no idea. If it were me, I’d be happy to get a break from the asshole.”
“Yeah, but—” I start, then quickly swallow my words as Emery comes around the corner in the clothes Darcy laid out for her.
Fuck me.
Her outfit doesn’t make her look like a toy doll at all. She does, however, look naked. Everything is completely covered up, but the fabric of the nude-colored crop top and shorts should be illegal. It doesn’t take much for my mind to superimpose the shadows and contours from memory.
My gaze rakes down her body, noting how her skin doesn’t hug quite so tightly to her bones and how her hips have rounded the slightest amount. There is a rosy hue to her cheeks now, and she doesn’t look like a stiff wind would blow her over anymore.
With the way her head is tilted toward the floor, her hair cascades down her chest, and it’s only when I finally register that she has one arm crossed over her body to grasp the other, and that her legs are crossed, that I realize she is uncomfortable.
I share a glance with Darcy, then turn my back on them, giving him a moment to work with her because I am in no state to be anywhere near her. My heart seems to believe I am running a marathon, and my cock is accepting all the additional blood flow.
Where the fuck is my control when I need it? I can’t spend the next few hours like this. I need to get my shit back under control so Emery doesn’t feel threatened by my presence.
The murmurs behind me stop, and in the reflection of the windows, I watch as Darcy leads our girl over to the chairs and positions her in the seat facing the wall of art supplies.
There are simultaneous message chimes from both Darcy’s phone and mine. With a glance over my shoulder, I see that he is still busy with Emery, crouched down in front of her, whispering, so I go to my phone and check the message.
Derek: Emery was at the apartment last night.
Frowning, I reread the message several times. Last night? No, she couldn’t have been. The three of us were there last night; there is no way we wouldn’t have seen her.
My phone vibrates in my hand.
Derek: She was there just before 5pm. She ran out crying after she searched the place. Is she with you and Darcy? How is she?
Why the hell would the apartment make her cry? And what was she searching for?
Me: Do you know what she was looking for? And yeah, she’s here.
Me: She came into the studio with a black cloud hanging over her. Barely making eye contact with either of us.
Derek: My assumption is the sketchbooks and graphite.
Ah, that would do it.
Me: When do you plan to give them to her?
Derek: As soon as I can get her to talk to me. I think I am past the point of hoping she’ll talk to me and will actually have to use them as bait. I hate it, but if it’s my only opportunity to get her to meet me in person, then I will use it.
I feel for the guy. I sprung being a model on her just to spend some time in her presence.
Me: You have to do what you have to do. I have a feeling we might be running out of time, though.
Covertly, I make my way farther to the side so that I can get a better angle, then raise my phone with the camera app open and snap a picture of Darcy and Emery. She is looking at the floor to the side of his feet as he holds her hand and some of his rope, letting her feel it against her skin.
I send it through to the chat.
Derek: I agree. I think we might need to call in reinforcements.
Me: Who?
Derek: Madam.
My eyes widen at the suggestion. But, honestly, I’m feeling at a complete and utter loss here. Emery has the door locked on us. Until she turns the key, there isn’t a lot we can do without stomping all over her boundaries more than we already are.
“Hudson, could you come and take your place, please?”
I snap my head up at Darcy’s request. “Of course.”
Quickly, I type out my response as I carry my phone back over to my things.
Me: It’s worth a shot. Darcy and I will be unavailable for the next few hours. Session is starting.
Dumping my phone, I go to my assigned seat. Her hair tickles the skin of my back, eliciting a shiver down my spine.
“Here, princess, lean forward for me,” Darcy requests, then I feel his hands between us, gathering her hair and moving it to what I assume must be over her shoulder.
“Okay, so we are keeping today simple. I just want to get some sketches of you holding someone’s hand.
We are going to do two poses today—this one and a single suspension. ”
Darcy comes into my view, his eyes wide, and he mouths some words at me. She’s crying.
My heart thumps painfully in my chest, and I nod so that he knows I read him.
“Okay, Hudson, if you could let your arm hang, yeah, just like that. And, Emery, I’m going to need you to place your hand in his.”
There is an incredibly long pause between Darcy’s request and when I feel her palm press against mine.
My heart turns heavy in my chest, and I tip my head back, throat tight as I slip my fingers between hers.
Eyes burning, I inhale deeply and let it out as quietly as I can before leveling myself and staring out the window, doing my fucking best not to clamp my hand around hers so that she can never leave me again.