Chapter 9
Hudson stepped through the heavy double doors of the mansion. For the first time in his life, the place didn’t feel like home. Striding through the vaulted foyer where he’d hugged Pop for the last time, he swept past Vivian. Malcolm could deal with his hysterical aunt. Right now, he needed bourbon.
With every inch toward Pop’s study, the old man’s absence dragged him deeper into the darkness he’d skirted all night. He stopped at the door and laid a hand on the thick wood.
“Hudson.”
He turned to Josie, Pop’s housekeeper since before Hudson was born.
She scrubbed her swollen eyes. Stepping into his embrace, she rested her head on his chest. “Ralphie’s asleep in his usual room. I’m staying the night.”
He hugged her, the burn behind his eyes threatening to blow. “Go home to Bob. We can take care of ourselves.”
“Bob’s fine. You’re not.” She opened the door to Pop’s study. “I opened a bottle of Sam’s favorite.”
The smell of bourbon and cigars and the sea hit him like a sandstorm. His vision blurred as he moved to Pop’s desk. Beyond the dark wood and the window lay a private beach. Beyond that, the ocean that had fueled Pop’s spirit.
Jesus fucking Christ, he needed his grandfather.
“Hudson.” Vivian’s voice shrieked over the click of her heels on the tiled hallway.
He leaned against Pop’s desk and braced himself for the tempest as she swept into the room, Nathaniel trailing close behind.
Slapping her hand over her heart, she spun to face him. “I can’t believe this.” Her eyes widened as she stared at the cuts on his arms. “What happened to you?”
“Broken glass.”
He waited until she put it all together. “Oh, Hudson. This is all too much.”
Yeah, it was, and he needed her to stop talking before he shattered into more pieces than Pop’s windshield. “I’m fine, Viv.”
“Nothing is fine. Malcolm said the police are opening an investigation. I knew something would happen like this. I’ve been telling Sam for years to hire a driver, but—"
“That’s enough.” Hudson stormed across the room in three strides and threw open the double doors to the terrace. They slammed against the frame, the bang carrying across the stone expanse. Crushed seashells crunched under his sneakers as he reached the low wall that edged the dunes.
Everything he’d been holding in since the life drained from Pop tore free in a ragged howl. Falling to his knees, he faced the truth.
I was too late.
He hadn’t been too late to save Chris’s life. He’d kept his friend from bleeding out inside an inferno. What good was being the best of the best when he couldn’t save an old man from a car wreck? If he’d gotten there a few minutes earlier.
If he’d come home sooner.
If…
“Fuck.” The word dragged out of him, slow and rough. Pop may have said he was ready to go, but dammit, Hudson wasn’t ready for him to leave.
Soft footsteps sounded behind him. He rose and turned, expecting to find Josie. He found red lips and long blonde hair instead.
Shayla’s tears caught the terrace lights.
He didn’t doubt they were real. She’d cared for Pop.
But Vivian’s niece from her first marriage and Hudson’s high school girlfriend eyed him with the familiar hope of another chance at being Mrs. Hudson Langley someday.
He didn’t have the patience for that on a good day, let alone the strength to face it tonight.
“I’m so sorry about Sam, Hudson.”
“Thank you.” He tensed as she hugged him.
“Malcolm is on the phone with his father about the will. Vivian’s getting upset. You should come in.”
As he pushed inside, he spotted Malcolm leaning against the bookcase. He’d changed into jeans and a T-shirt, but his posture shouted all business.
Vivian waved him over with her wineglass. “Malcolm said his father isn’t coming home to handle Sam’s affairs.”
Nathaniel straightened from the bar and brushed something off the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Doesn’t sound like a wise idea to me.”
“It’s not up to you.” Hudson looked at Vivian as he poured himself a bourbon. “And I don’t see a problem with that.”
Malcolm held up both palms. “Hey, I’ve only gone to the hospital once in all the times I said, hold my drink.”
“Did you not hear me? Do you really want Mr.-Hold-My-Drink-And-Watch in charge of your grandfather’s estate?”
Vivian pouted. “But Malcolm’s grandfather, and then his father, have handled Sam’s affairs since the dawn of time.”
“Not since the dawn of time.” Malcolm removed a silver seashell stopper from a bottle and topped off Vivian’s drink. “I believe electricity may have been invented by the time Pop and Gramps met in Vietnam.”
Electricity or not, Pop’s post-military years in the Peace Corps spent building infrastructure had lit the spark that built the fortune Vivian cared about.
Nathaniel rested his elbow on the bar and knocked over a picture frame. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He picked it up. “Hey, Hudson. This is a great photo of you and Sam, and your friend…” He scratched his chin. “Wait, don’t tell me. Sam mentioned his name once.”
An image of Chris thrashing in a hospital bed flashed through Hudson’s mind. “His name is —”
Nathaniel held up a hand. “Wait. Now I remember. You’d just been stationed with your first SEAL team. Where is your buddy now?”
“Stateside.” Hudson pulled out his phone and shot a text to a contact at the military hospital. Maybe he could share an update about Chris?
Vivian snatched the photo from Nathaniel. She placed it back on the bar and glared at Malcolm. “When can you do the will reading?”
“Reading? Do you think we’re gathering in this room for a formal show?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I think.”
Malcolm glanced at Hudson. “You okay with that?”
“Fine.” He had more important battles to fight.
“Okay, then. I’ll need to pull up the documents my dad is sending and look them over before we meet. Give me until tomorrow night.”
“Well, get on with it.” Vivian looked at Hudson. “Do you have Sam’s ring?”
Hudson ground his teeth together. If he told Vivian the ring shattered in the crash, would she mourn it more than Pop? He pulled it from his pocket. Vivian reached out to take it. Closing his fist, he covered the ruby before a painted fingernail could touch it. “This isn’t yours.”
“Who else would Sam leave it to?”
“I’ll let Pop’s lawyer hold onto it until he reads through the will.” He pressed it into Malcolm’s hand. “You know what to do with this, right?”
Malcolm nodded. “Copy that.”