Chapter 15 #3
He ends the call, but I’m in no hurry to get back to dinner.
My appetite and mood have plummeted, and even though I’m only a few feet from the others, I could be miles away for how isolated I feel.
I wish I could take Seth’s hand and walk him through it, but I’m no more equipped to handle Hudson’s trauma than he is.
And more importantly, it’s not my place to insert myself.
I need to focus on my own problems instead of worrying about everyone else’s.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Roy questions, his warm smile a welcome sight.
“There’s not much to barter with, I’m afraid,” I answer jokingly. “Just admiring the view.”
The upward tilt of his eyebrow indicates he doesn’t buy that for a second, but he’s respectful of my hesitancy to share and doesn’t pry any further.
We stand in silence for a while, the two of us watching as night begins to claim the sky.
It’s hard to believe that this is the same exact sun that set every day, unfailingly, for the past nine years.
I guess that’s a harsh reminder that we might be traversing the same sea, but our modes of transportation aren’t the same.
Some have luxury yachts, while others are making do with a dinghy.
Me? I’ve been fighting the waves on a crudely built raft with no protection from the elements, but if I close my eyes, I can picture the shoreline I’m desperate to reach.
“Everything good with Hudson?” Raiden flanks my other side, the familiar scent of his cologne putting me at ease.
“I think so,” I answer truthfully, not confident enough to offer anything more concrete. His phone buzzes in my hand, and out of instinct, I check the screen to see who’s calling. Thinking the worst, I expect to see Seth’s name, but Mia stares back at me instead. “Um, this is for you.”
Catching sight of who it is, he grimaces and sends the call to voicemail.
I refrain from asking any questions, but my thoughts are filled with all sorts of wild assumptions.
I’ve kept up this charade he crafted regarding the apartment, but if there’s a significant other I’m unaware of and this arrangement is putting her out as well, that’s a problem.
A part of me hates the idea of Raiden being involved with someone.
Not once has he mentioned a girlfriend over the past seven months, but I’d be foolish to think I know every aspect of his life.
I’m not entitled to the guys’ every thought, but I’d think after sharing such intimate things about myself, they’d be a little more forthcoming with basic information.
“Hey, Angel!” Briggs slurs, effectively ending the awkward moment between Raiden and me. “Come dance with me.”
“Okay, that’s enough for one night,” Colsen chimes in, plucking a half-empty beer from his friend’s hand.
“First you’re my drug dealer, and now you wanna play bartender too?” Briggs gripes, his unsteady footing making it obvious he started drinking well before any of their guests arrived.
“If you’d stop treating your prescription bottle like a fucking PEZ dispenser, then I wouldn’t have to.”
They go back and forth, trading blows for a good five minutes.
Eventually, my eyes connect with Raiden’s, both of us silently communicating our need for an escape.
It’s apparent that Briggs is struggling with some form of substance abuse, but I don’t think his personal issues need to be broadcast in front of everyone.
We excuse ourselves from the private conversation taking place, but not before Rita snags my plate and heads to the kitchen.
She places the barely eaten food inside a tupperware container, apologizing on the guys’ behalf as she walks us to the door.
“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but Colsen is only being so hard on him because he cares. Tough love isn’t easy.” Her sympathetic smile is genuine, but the explanation isn’t needed.
“It was great to meet you, Rita,” Raiden offers.
The tightness in my shoulders loosens the moment we’re safely tucked inside his apartment.
I kick my shoes off and collapse against the couch, my social skills having been put through the wringer for the past two hours.
Raiden puts my leftovers away and brings me back a bottle of water.
I smile in thanks, too tired to move from my relaxed position among the cushions.
His phone rings again, but he pockets it, choosing to ignore whoever’s trying to reach him.
Instead, he kicks his shoes off and takes the other end of the couch.
My eyes grow heavy as he starts to scroll through a list of movies on one of his many streaming services.
I slept for ten hours last night, but my tiredness is likely a symptom of pregnancy.
I dread knowing what others are waiting in the wings.
I’m fearful of falling asleep, worried that Seth might try to reach us and the call won’t be heard.
But I’m also hopeful that Hudson’s episode was a one-off and his dad can handle things going forward.
It’s a grand idea, but the following weeks are nothing short of torturous.
We make a dozen trips to the Taylor residence, with no end in sight.
I grow to hate the mornings after, when I’m forced to leave Hudson and restart the cycle of separation.
They say the definition of insanity is continuously doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome.
I think we’re on the brink of it, because no matter how hard we try, there’s never any lasting change with Hudson’s mood swings.
But I don’t hesitate to drop everything when Seth calls, intent on keeping my promise to be there if and when he needs me.