CHAPTER 36
Hudson knew immediately that something wasn’t right. He’d walked into Willa’s house—she’d turned islander enough to leave the doors unlocked—and he hadn’t heard music. This was like a church.
Or like a tomb.
“Willa?” he asked, carefully heading for the kitchen.
Red flag number two: she wasn’t in the kitchen. Even after turning in the cookbook, she’d gravitated there, playing with the leftover ingredients she had, humming to herself.
What the hell was going on?
“Up here,” she finally called from the bedroom.
He headed up the stairs, then paused for a second in the bedroom doorway. She was curled up in a ball on the bed, turned away from him. “You okay—”
As soon as she turned, he knew immediately that she wasn’t . Her eyes were puffy from crying, and her face was splotched red. Her normally immaculate hair was tousled, probably from the pillow.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathed, rushing to her side and stroking her cheek. It was still a little damp, and she sniffled. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“They canceled the book,” she said. “They aren’t publishing it.”
He jerked. “They what ?”
“I know,” she moaned, trying to turn her face into the pillow.
“Why? Why the hell would they do that?” he said, nudging her to look at him.
“I guess it leaked that he had a ghostwriter, or something? An old, unsexy one.”
He felt like his blood was boiling. “That is the biggest bunch of bullshit ...”
He stopped immediately when he saw that his anger wasn’t helping the situation, just making her expression sadder.
“Sorry,” he quickly added. He was sure she felt worse about it than he ever would. “I’m just upset for you. And even if it’s a bullshit excuse, that still hurts.”
“I honestly don’t care if they think I’m ugly and old,” she said, and he believed it. “I kind of care that they’re trying to act like I somehow broke my NDA, though. Mostly because they’re using it as a reason not to pay me the remainder of my contract.”
“ They’re ...” He gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, and counted to five as he stroked her arm encouragingly. Support for her, not irritation. “They can do that?” he said, more quietly.
“Yes. They really, really emphasized secrecy. I’m not even sure who leaked it. It screws both me and Sam,” she said. “But let’s face it: he’s still got possibilities for endorsements. He’s still got his following on all his platforms, even if there’s some unsubscribes. But I’m not getting another contract from this publisher, and it’s hard to crack into any of them. For me, this is ... kind of the end of the line.”
She sounded so defeated, and her eyes welled with tears. He felt it in his chest, like someone had hit him with a hammer.
“God, I am so sorry,” he said, even though it frustrated him that this was all he could do, all he could say. He knew how important this was to her.
“I was putting a lot of faith in this,” she said, sitting up, wiping at her eyes with the heels of her palms. “But hey, at least the house is fixed.”
He froze. “What are you talking about?”
Her long exhale was like her soul leaving her body, and she turned wet brown eyes to him. “Selling the house was always the fallback. I hate it, you have no idea. But that will buy me some time as I figure out what the hell I’m doing next.”
He scooped her up, putting her on his lap, nudging her head against his shoulder. “I can help with that,” he said gently, feeling panic prick at him, then rocked/shook her a tiny bit when she let out a watery snicker. “I mean that. I know how much you hate accepting help, but this is serious.”
It was too early to say he loved her, wasn’t it? Was he even sure that’s what it was? It was hardly like he had a track record on this sort of thing. He had had one real relationship that had ended with two amazing kids and a dinged sense of self-worth—he was aware enough to know that. He’d made excuses and shied away from anything serious.
But he wanted something different with Willa. He was attracted to her, and the sex was hot—but she listened, and she shared. She didn’t look down on him: if anything, she actually cared enough to help him see what his dreams were and encouraged him to follow them. Most of all, she wasn’t trying to fix him, or save him, or bring him around. If anything, she had her own issues, her own life .
He wanted to help her, especially since it seemed like she let so few people support her.
“You’ve helped me so much already,” she said with a small smile, bringing him back to the conversation and out of his haywire thoughts. “The living room looks gorgeous. And everything else ... well, I’m sure there are a few things I can do, like maybe paint in neutral colors or something, to help sell the house. But it’s not crucial. And the housing market’s been so hot ...”
She still sounded lost, defeated. His chest clenched.
“I really love the island,” she added with a small, bittersweet laugh. “Even this quickly.”
“You could move in with me,” he blurted out.
Her eyes widened, her laugh turning into something more natural, if surprised. “The last thing you need is another living creature on Marigold Farm.”
“I mean,” he said, stroking her cheek, “you could move in with me . Be ... with me.”
He took a deep breath and held it.
Now she tilted her head, studying him, really weighing his words.
I didn’t think I’d stay on this island ...
He gritted his teeth. Nope. He was not going down that route at this point.
“You mean it.” It wasn’t a question. She breathed it, sounding stunned.
He kissed her gently, then tilted her head so she was looking into his eyes, hoping she could see that he had no doubts. “Absolutely.”
Now it was her turn to take a deep breath. She let it out in a low, long sigh. “I can’t.”
It hit like a punch. “Why not?” he said, trying not to press but unable to keep the note of hurt out of his voice. “If it’s because you don’t like to accept help ... this isn’t that. This isn’t me giving you a hand or doing a favor. This is because I feel more about you than I’ve felt about anyone in a long time. Maybe ever. I don’t want to lose you.”
Another tear crept from her eye, trailing down her cheek. She smiled anyway, though.
“You’re not going to lose me,” she said. “But you’re not going to lose yourself either.”
He shifted to sit on the bed with her, cuddling her. “I want to do this,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m a grown man, and I know my mind.”
“I know.” She snuggled into his chest. “Trust me, I know. But you’re also ... well, you’re doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“You’re figuring out everyone else’s problems,” she said. “You’re coming up with a solution that puts your needs last.”
“You,” he said, kissing her nose, “are a fine one to talk.”
“That’s why I know.” She sighed against him, molding herself to him, and he cradled her, breathing in her scent ... clean laundry and citrus, summer sun and spice. “We both did this, Hud. You got married too young—for good reasons, and the twins are amazing—but then you just put everything into keeping the twins okay and the farm afloat, and all your dreams just got pushed aside.”
“I made peace with that,” he protested, but she put a soft finger on his lips.
“Listen to me,” she instructed, resting herself on his chest and looking up at him. “You’re only forty-two, and those dreams are still there. You don’t need to figure out how to take care of me. I’m forty-six. I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, and how well has that been going?” He saw the moment the words hit her, and he wanted to kick his own ass. “That ... I didn’t mean it like that. I meant—”
“It’s okay,” she interrupted, even though the stern set of her face told him it probably wasn’t. “And you’re right, in a lot of ways. I haven’t asked for help. I haven’t let people in. I have reasons for that. Probably some unhealthy ones, and my former therapist had a few choice words ... but the point is, I can and will figure this out. That doesn’t mean you need to ride to my rescue.”
“Then what does it mean?” he said, anger warring with loss. “We’re just ... I don’t even know what we were, but we’re just done ?”
Goddammit. This was why he never got in relationships. It felt like she’d hit his sternum with a goddamned sledgehammer.
“What this means,” she said softly, her face still sad, “is that I’m going down to Irvine to see my family, and to ... figure some things out. Then, I’ll come back up here and get the house ready for sale, more than likely. But as far as we’re concerned: do you want this?”
“Yes.” Hadn’t he said as much?
“Then maybe you need to think about going to the internship in Bern.”
He stared at her. “What the fuck?” It came out sharper than he’d intended. “You want us to be together, but you want me to go to Switzerland ?”
“I want us to be together,” she said, just as sharp, her brown eyes glowing like whisky in firelight. “But not if it means that you’re keeping yourself small or using me as a fucking excuse for not pursuing your dreams. I don’t want that for you, and I sure as hell don’t want it for myself. I was support staff for a man I loved for too long to be okay watching you decide to take on that role.”
He sucked in a breath with a soft hiss. She spoke softly ... but she also pulled no punches.
“I’m going to go to California for a bit,” she said. “Check on my parents. My dad sprained his ankle this week, and I want to make sure they’re okay. Then I need to think about what my next steps are. I think you should do the same. And when you’re ready ... call me.”
He kissed her. She kissed him back. He held her, stroking her hair. She nuzzled his chest. Eventually they undressed each other, having sex like they had all the time in the world, like they’d been together forever and like they’d never made love before in their lives. Gentle, passionate, soft and harsh and complete.
But he didn’t sleep that night, knowing that in a few days, she’d be gone ... and however long after that, she’d maybe be far away, and he’d be dealing with his shit, one way or another.