50. Chapter 49
Chapter 49
Finnley
The simmering rage I’ve felt since I first saw Tristen on my doorstep must have drowned out the sound of them coming in through the garage. I realize what I’ve said just a moment too late. I cast a look over my shoulder to see Hudson frozen, his gaze ping-ponging back and forth between me and Tristen.
Paige’s lip quivers. “Daddy, you and Finnley are married ?” She hiccups and a tear rolls down her cheek.
My eyes burn with tears at seeing Hudson so caught off guard, his expression both surprised and hardened in anger as he looks back and forth between us. The crushing weight on my chest feels unbearable.
My eyes drop to Paige and my heart squeezes further. As much as she loves me, I’m not her real mom, and it hits me that what Hudson and I have been doing isn’t real . Not in the sense that they were. They were never a secret born from medical necessity; something he felt obligated to do as my friend. My pride made me lash out at Tristen and, in the process, I’ve hurt the one person who is innocent in all of this.
“Paige, I’m so—” I start.
“Daddy,” Paige sniffles at the same time.
“Just…let me handle it,” Hudson sighs in frustration.
My gaze snaps to his stormy gray eyes and he shakes his head once. I can’t get a read on him. I know blurting the truth of out our marriage was probably the last thing this already tenuous situation needed, but I need to apologize to Paige.
Hudson turns his back on me and crouches in front of Paige. The finality of that gesture hurts, but nothing could prepare me for the next words out of his mouth and they’re like a knife to my chest.
“It was to help Finn, sweetheart.” He runs a hand over her hair, kissing the top of her head when she continues to cry. “Finn and I, we’re not…” I can’t see his face, but his voice is a strained whisper when he looks up at his little girl and speaks again. “It’s not like your mom and me, Paige.”
My stomach rolls and I feel lightheaded. I stare blankly at Hudson’s back, unable to speak. A tear tracks down my cheek, while I silently watch everything I’ve ever wanted slip away from me. My best friend. My husband. The little girl I’ve come to love as my own. It feels as though I’ve been violently shoved back into the friend zone. And I deserve that.
Tristen’s right. Family is important to Hudson, and I’m not a part of his family. I’m not part of anyone’s family. We have to end this. How could we not after this? It’s my biggest fear, right in my face. Even if Hudson wanted this with me, we can’t. No amount of longing, love, or lust between me and Hudson is worth hurting Paige and potentially losing the only person in my life who truly gets me. This is over, and I’ll be alone. Just like I knew I would be. But as much as it hurts, it’s obviously for the best.
“See, Finnley?” Tristen says with a smirk. “It’s just like I said. You’ll only ever be the poor, pathetic loser, so desperate for love that you’ll open your legs for anyone’s seconds.”
“Enough!” Hudson’s deep voice booms as he jerks to his feet, making me jump. “Tristen, why do you have to be such a bitch? ”
“Daddy!” Paige sobs.
A muscle ticks in his jaw and he runs a hand through his hair before meeting my gaze. There’s nothing there to indicate how he’s feeling, besides anger. Just those hazel eyes I’ve come to love so much almost looking through me. “Jameson, can you take Paige upstairs, please?”
My last name rolling off his tongue is like a slap in the face after everything that’s happened between us. Not Finn, not Finnley. Jameson. There’s no sign of the Hudson who looks at me like I’m the most important woman in his world—his pretty girl. I’m just his best friend again. Maybe not even that, after all this. The way he’s looking at me, it crushes me.
“Sure, Huddy,” I bite out, throwing a venomous glare his way. I soften my voice and hold a hand out to Paige. “Come on, sweet girl.”
“No!” She shakes her head, tears glistening in her eyes. “I want Mommy.” Paige pulls away from Hudson and runs to Tristen, burying her face against her stomach. Tristen barely touches her, her expression slightly wary.
That invisible knife twists in my chest, but I can’t blame her. Right now, Tristen is hurting her less.
“Paige,” Hudson says, his hands on his hips. “Your mom isn’t going anywhere right now. You can spend some time with her in a bit.” The tone of his voice leaves zero room for argument, and she hangs her little head.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” I say, holding out a hand to her again.
“But I want Mommy to do it!”
Tristen looks about as comfortable with that idea as a deer being stalked by a cougar.
“Go. Your mom and I need to talk.” Hudson points to the stairs. I’ve never seen him this way with his daughter. “Now, Paige. ”
She crosses the room sullenly, leaving me with my hand outstretched as she moves past me and up the stairs. With one last glance at Hudson, I follow.
Once Paige and I are behind her firmly closed bedroom door, I’m both annoyed and relieved that it drowns out the sound of Tristen and Hudson’s arguing downstairs. Their relationship is none of my business, and I know he sent me up here because of Paige, but it still hurts. Especially after all the hurtful things Tristen said about me.
Lowering myself to the floor next to where Paige has taken up post, I bring my eyes to hers. Her cheeks are wet from crying, and she sniffles a bit. I reach out and brush her hair off her forehead. She doesn’t pull away, but she drops her eyes to her lap.
“Paige, I’m so sorry about what happened downstairs,” I say softly.
She doesn’t look up, and her voice comes out as barely a whisper. “It’s ok.”
My chest aches as I watch her. I shake my head. God, I hate what this is doing to her. She has already been through so much in the last few years. Way more than a six-year-old should have to go through.
“No, it’s not. Your dad and I should have told you the truth. And I’m sorry that you got hurt. I never want to hurt you, sweet girl. Neither does your daddy,” I say, still stroking a hand down her hair.
Paige sniffles again and nods, finally meeting my gaze. “How come you guys got married?”
I swallow and cast my eyes around the room. I don’t know how much Hudson wants her to know, but the damage has already been done, and I don’t want to lie to her anymore.
“Do you remember the day Aunt Wren picked you up from camp?”
She nods, her brows scrunched in concentration as she watches me. Her face is dry and she’s not crying anymore. Thank God. I hate to see her hurting .
“Well,” I say, taking a deep breath, “I got very sick at work and—”
“At Timber Haven?” she asks.
I nod. “Yep. And I was so scared. Your daddy… Well, he came and helped me.”
“Did he make you feel better?” she asks, her face lighting up. “Daddy always makes me feel better when I’m sick. Mostly ‘cause he makes me soup and lets me watch TV all day,” she says with a giggle.
I can’t help but smile, and tears burn my eyes, clogging my throat. “He did. He even made me soup.”
“My daddy is the best, huh?” Paige says, smiling so sweetly, it makes my heart ache.
I nod, swiping at the tear that spills down my cheek. “He is.” I pause, taking another deep breath. “Anyway, your daddy helped me get my insulin, and he made sure that I don’t have to worry about it ever again.”
“How?”
“Well, we got married,” I start. “And because we’re married, I can get what I need.”
She watches me, eyes flicking back and forth between mine. “Do you feel better?”
I fight back a sob. “I do. It helped me very much.”
Paige is quiet for a couple of minutes, while she pulls out her dolls from the case on the floor next to us. I watch her, wishing I could take the last thirty minutes away so she wouldn’t be hurting. Hell, so I wouldn’t be hurting. Or Hudson.
“Why is my daddy so mad at my mommy?” she asks.
I blow out a breath, unsure what to say. “Sometimes adults do things that hurt people, and it’s hard not to get angry sometimes.”
“What did Mommy do to hurt Daddy? ”
What hasn’t she done to hurt him? God, I wish Hudson was here. As hurt as I am for his dismissal, these should be questions that he answers, not me.
I clear my throat, hoping to ease some of the tension there. “You mean the world to your daddy, you know that, right?”
She nods. “He loves me a lot,” she says.
“He does. And when your mom says she’s going to visit or call, and then she doesn’t, it makes him sad.”
“And mad,” she states matter-of-factly.
I nod. “And mad, yes.”
“Mommy said mean things to you, too, huh?” she asks, pushing her hair off her forehead.
“She did,” I say.
“I don’t like that. It’s not nice.” Her lip pouts out.
I reach out and take her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Paige, I want you to know that your dad and I, we didn’t mean to hurt you by getting married. We did it because I needed to feel better. Your daddy has been my best friend for a really long time, and he wanted to help me.”
“Because he loves you, huh?”
A sob gets caught in my throat and it takes everything to keep it inside. All I can do is nod.
“And you love my daddy, too?”
I can’t keep the tears from falling. “I love your daddy very much, yes.”
“I’m glad my daddy married you, then,” she says. “I’m glad he helped you, so you aren’t sick.” Said so simply from the mouth of a six-year-old, who has no concept of what those words do to my heart.
I can only force a smile as my mind spins with questions and doubt. Even after Paige’s declaration that she’s ok with us being married.
What if Tristen is right? What if I am really just a project to Hudson? I recall all the times he’s helped me financially, and all the times he’s tried to, but I haven’t let him. What about all the times I called him when my life was falling apart and I couldn’t function? What if our friendship really is built on his desire to feel needed and mine to feel rescued?
I swallow around the lump in my throat. What does my life look like if he goes back to Tristen? Back to New York? There would be no reason for me to have dinner with his family, no reason to celebrate birthdays or be at family functions. Or worse, if she were to move here? What if Hudson takes her back on the stipulation that she move to Timber Forge? It’s far-fetched, at best, but a month ago, the idea of me sleeping with and falling in love with Hudson was, too.
How would it feel knowing they are all together at the ranch? Would he endure a life of unhappiness with Tristen if it meant that Paige could have both her mom and her dad? What if Paige’s happiness and having her family back together means more to Hudson than I do? What happens if he realizes what Paige wants is more important than what we have?
As hurt as I am over the things Tristen said to me, I’m numb to that now. What has my throat clogged with emotion that I can’t swallow over are Hudson’s words.
It’s nothing like your mom and me.
It’s those seven words, spoken so honestly by the man who is quite possibly the greatest love of my life, that tell me one glaringly obvious thing: Hudson and I will never work. How could we, when our marriage started out as a lie? And if what Tristen says is true about the money, can I forgive him? Will I ever forget?
The fact remains, no matter how I feel, none of this was meant to be real. Hudson said as much to Paige, and his ability to dismiss me so quickly downstairs speaks volumes. We never should have started this. I desperately want to go back to the way things were before, but I don’t know if that’s even possible. Not after having him in the most intimate ways. Not after everything he’s become to me .
The skin on my neck feels clammy and prickles with nausea, and emotion builds once again at the base of my throat. My chest feels tight, and I wonder if I’m on the verge of a panic attack. I’ve never had one before, but I’m lightheaded and the pounding of blood in my ears is a palpable thing.
What about Timber Haven? Tristen notwithstanding, I can’t afford to run things on my own. I can’t get a loan to pay Hudson back or buy him out. Not yet, anyway. The business is too new. Would I have to sell it? My mind jumps from scenario to scenario, each one worse than the next. I could borrow the money from Wren, but she’s got two babies on the way and my problems are not hers.
Also, my diabetes is the least of my worries right now, but it’s the whole reason we did this. If this ruins our friendship, I can kiss my insurance goodbye. I’ll be right back where I started, and for what? We’ve started this beautiful thing together just to have it tarnished.
I reach up and clasp the necklace around my neck, squeezing my eyes shut against the tears that want to fall as another thought hits me and I can’t catch my breath. What if Hudson doesn’t go back to Tristen and we stay together, but Paige hates me because of it? What if she never forgives me for what we did, for keeping her mom and dad apart? She’ll always love Hudson, but me? I’m just the woman coming between her parents.
Another thought plows through my mind and it’s like a riptide I can’t get out from under: can I really withstand Tristen’s fury and hatred for the rest of my life if he chooses us—chooses me—over her? She'll never be fully out of our lives, so long as Paige is their daughter. Will she try and turn Paige against me, or against Hudson? The thought makes me sick and cements what I already know and have from the beginning: this was a bad idea. It was reckless and stupid. I fell in love with my best friend knowing it would eventually end and I would be alone. And I fucking did it anyway. I have no one to blame but myself .
The longer I sit here on this floor, the more anxious I get. Thinking I just need a minute to myself, I climb to my feet.
“I need to use the bathroom, ok, Paige? Stay here until I come back, or your daddy comes, ok?”
“Ok,” she nods, but her attention is on her dolls.
Just as I’m about to open the door, her words stop me. “Don’t be sad, ok?”
When I turn back to her, I plaster a smile on my face. But her next words gut me.
“You can still be married to Daddy even if he’s with my mommy. Maybe you can move into the new house with us so you’re not lonely. I can share my bedroom with you.”
I love this little girl so much. In her young mind, the two of us sharing her bedroom, with me still married to her dad, while he sleeps just down the hall in the same bed as Tristen, seems plausible. Ideal, even. I fight the tears falling as hard as I can, but it’s no use, I can hear the sound of my ragged breathing as I try to suck back a lungful of air.
I have to leave. I can’t do this.
Unable to stand it anymore, I close Paige’s door behind me. I’m two steps away from the solitude of my room when Tristen’s voice floats up the stairs.
“Why are you back here, Hudson? Playing house with the poor, little orphan girl? Fucking married to her. Screwing her? What the fuck are you thinking?” she hisses.
“Christ, Tristen. What I do with my life is none of your goddamn business, and keep your fucking voice down.”
She laughs humorlessly. “Let me guess, she finally let you get your dick wet and now you’re all brainwashed into thinking this is what you want? That must be some grade A Podunk pussy. ”
“Watch your goddamn mouth when you talk about her.” His voice shakes with rage.
“I always knew you wanted to fuck her. Since day one, I knew. Was our marriage ever even real to you?”
“You fucking left me !” he roars. “You left our daughter. You demolished her, Tristen. You demolished me . Was it ever fucking real to you , Tristen?”
I clap my hands over my ears and cross the hall, slipping into my bedroom. I close the door behind me, tears coursing freely down my cheeks. I throw open my closet, blindly grabbing whatever I can get my hands on as quickly as possible. Next, I grab a handful of underwear and socks, shoving them all into the overnight bag I used when we went to Bozeman.
Hot, fat tears roll down my cheeks when my eyes land on the bed. It’s still rumpled from sleeping in it last night. Every memory of Hudson inside me lies within the four walls of this house, mostly this room. Suddenly, I can’t breathe.
Everywhere I look, I see him. When I go into the bathroom for my toothbrush, I picture him fucking me senseless in the shower, whispering how good I feel, how I’m made for him. Him shaving in front of the mirror every morning while I shower. Him climbing into bed after a long day of working with Hank or at the bar, exhausted but still full of enough energy to send me into another galaxy with this hands and mouth and cock and his gloriously filthy words.
I throw open my bedroom door and head downstairs, tears blurring my vision. I’m not even trying to stop them now; I couldn’t even if I wanted to. When I get to the bottom, Tristen sits in the same spot as before, and Hudson paces in my periphery. I keep my eyes forward, snagging my patchwork bag off the banister and sliding it over my head and across my chest. I take two steps in the direction of the door, cramming my feet into my slides, then turn and head for the garage .
“Where are you going?” His voice is ragged, exhausted, as he moves in my direction in seconds.
I ignore him and keep walking, knowing if he catches up to me, it will kill me to walk away from him. Pulling open the fridge, I snatch up two insulin cartridges. If my heart wasn’t shattering into a million pieces, I would laugh. All of this over some fucking insulin and a goddamn pump. I cram them in my bag and slam the fridge before pulling open the garage door.
“Tristen, you want to be a mother, go act like one,” he bites out, throwing an arm in the direction of the stairs. She reluctantly gets up, moving across the space. “Dammit, Finnley. Stop.”
Just as he rounds the island, the garage door closes on his words. The second the door clicks shut behind me, I lurch for the car door, a sob busting out of my chest. I chuck my shit in through the open window and yank open the door.
But I’m not fast enough and Hudson is right behind me.
“Will you fucking stop?” he nearly shouts, taking hold of the car door so I can’t open it all the way.
I tug on it. “Just let me go,” I whisper and give the door another weak tug.
“Finnley, stop.” His voice is weak and raw. “Baby, please don’t leave.”
“Don’t call me that,” I sob.
“Why?” The pain in his voice tears me in two and my hand drops away from the door.
Then, his hands are on my shoulders, turning me around and pressing me into his chest. I go willingly, like the weak woman I am, sobbing into his shirt. I can’t not . It’s like there’s an invisible tether from his chest to mine, but once I’m there, wrapped up in his arms, I know it will be the last time. At least like this. Even if Tristen fucks off back to New York or France or wherever, I can never have him like this again. It hurts too much to lose it .
He runs a hand down my back and presses his palm to the back of my head. “Will you come back inside, please?”
I shake my head. “I can’t be here.”
He lets out a sigh. “Ok, we’ll leave. I can ask Mom and Pop—”
“No. Paige’s things are here. I’ll go to the B everything Tristen said about me, everything I feel for him, and the knowledge that sometime, somewhere the other shoe will drop, and I’ll be left alone.
“Do what?” he whispers.
“This. Us.” I swipe at the tears that won’t stop. “I can’t—"
“Just slow down,” he says softly, stroking my hair. “Baby, just breathe.” The tender way he says it rips my heart in two.
“Stop calling me that! You’re my best friend and I can’t lose you. You have to stop treating me like this is more than it is."
“What are you talking about?”
“This was only ever supposed to be sex, and you…” I trail off, shaking my head. “Tristen said you’ve been with a lot of women, and that’s fine. Really, it is, because you’re a single guy and it was before me, but I can’t be just another woman, and we can’t be more. It’s too messy.”
“You could never be just another woman. Don’t you know that by now?” He runs a hand through his hair, making it stand up in spots. “She’s trying to hurt you. Tristen doesn’t know shit about my life, Finn. Even when she was in it, she didn’t.”
I hear him, I do. And he’s right, the women that came before me don’t matter. But everything else does.
“Did you pay for my mama’s cremation? And tell me the truth this time.” I swipe at my eyes and search his face, willing him to say no, willing him to reassure me that he would never lie to me about something so big.
But he doesn’t. His shoulders slump, his eyes dim, and his body deflates before he nods. “Yes, I did, but—”
My eyes close against the pain of the look on his face, the pain I feel, knowing he’s been keeping this from me for years . My heart feels shredded. He kept the cremation from me, and he didn’t defend me in front of Tristen. God, this is a mess. I latch onto that, knowing I have to smash through this fake marriage with something of sledgehammer caliber, or I won’t be standing when this is over.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly, his eyes taking on a tortured expression.
I shake my head and shove at his chest, but he holds me easily. “You keep saying that, Hudson, but you know how I feel about this stuff. You know how I feel, and you keep doing it, anyway.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks. “You needed help, Finn. You needed someone to help you, and I can’t not help you. I won’t.”
“Even when it hurts me? Even if you have to lie about it? Why? Why would you do that?” I cry out. My heart twists, knowing he did something so fucking selfless, something that needed to be done. For me and for my mama. I love him for it, while hating myself for using it against him to break us .
He sounds hysterical, anger pushing in and amplifying his voice in the cavernous garage. “Because I fucking love you, Finnley! I’ve loved you since I was seventeen years old. I’ve tried to tell myself it wasn’t true, that we were just good friends. I even married someone I knew I couldn’t love back, trying to force myself to stop. But I can’t. I can’t stop loving you, it’s who I am. Loving you, helping you, it’s like breathing. I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.”
His words are everything I’ve ever wanted to hear from someone. But they’re immediately swallowed up in the avalanche of hurt I feel when I think about the inevitability of this ending; the inevitability that eventually everyone leaves. Add in his keeping things from me, and the probability of this ever working out feels less than slim. The thought turns my stomach.
Tristen’s words echo in my mind. Hudson’s always liked having a project. It makes him feel useful. You’ve always been his little charity case.
“You don’t love me. I’ve just always been a mess and you’ve been there picking up the pieces since we were kids, even when I don’t ask you to. That’s not love. That’s pity.”
Hurt blooms across his features but is quickly meshed with anger. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“Did you tell her about us?” I sob.
He shakes his head, confusion swimming in his eyes. “What? Who?”
“Tristen. Did you tell her we slept together?”
“No.” His nod is resolute. “Why the fuck would I tell her anything about us?”
Another wave of nausea swarms me when I realize it wasn’t Hudson that told her we were sleeping together. It was me .