Chapter 40
CHAPTER
FORTY
WILDE
“ Y ou okay?” Rooney asks as I hand over the paper.
I ignore the question. “It’s smaller than usual, so it shouldn’t take you long.”
Rooney scans the list of what people in town need, and I silently will him to hurry the fuck up so I can go back to …
well, nothing. Since yesterday, I’ve been planted on my couch, Nan’s quilt tucked under one arm, guitar locked back in the closet, wishing for the first time since I moved here that I had a TV.
Instead, I was left to stare a hole into my wall as Hudson’s face filled my mind, no matter how many times I shoved it away.
“Yeah, this is easy,” Rooney says. “Now, are you going to tell me why you look like you’re about to cry?”
My gaze snaps back to his. “Fuck you, I do not.”
“I can pretend to believe you, but then we’d both be lying. Might as well get it off your chest.”
Funnily enough, that’s exactly where all the pressure seems to be sitting. Opening my mouth and saying the words is hard though, and I let the silence stretch too long for Rooney.
“Is it about Hudson?”
I scowl at how easily he read me. “Why?”
“Gossip says you guys have a thing.”
Of course it does. Even here, it’s impossible to avoid people spreading stupid rumors.
Even when those stupid rumors are true. I told myself that I’d make more of an effort with the people I consider friends, and here I am, still locking the words up tight.
It’s too easy to slip into the comfort of keeping everything inside after doing it for so long, especially knowing how much it hurts to make an effort and have it all be for nothing.
“Use your words, big guy,” Rooney says, and something inside of me breaks.
“It’s over. The shit thing is that I don’t even know what it was, but when Kennedy asked me if I could treat Hudson right, I didn’t have an answer for him.
I don’t know how to treat people—I avoid them for the most part—so how the fuck am I supposed to promise him something that feels impossible?
” I pace closer to my truck and kick the goddamn tire.
“It was supposed to be nothing. Just some weak moments of fucking until … until … Hudson’s so …
he’s …” None of the words I have feel big enough.
“Kinda perfect for you?” Rooney suggests.
“Fuck off.”
“Sorry.” He tucks the list into his pocket. “People said he was nonstop flirting with you the other day. Looked good on you, apparently.”
“Well, it was pointless because it’s over now.”
“Shit …” Rooney steps closer to give my arm a squeeze. “I’m so sorry. ”
I don’t want sympathy. I want to shove any lingering emotions down so deep they’re hidden from scrutiny. “It was a fling.”
“Sure. You’re still lying, by the way.”
“Lying.” I scoff and tug my arm away.
“Why did it end?”
That’s the part that’s still cycling through my brain because I can’t figure out how it got to that point. When I climbed into his bedroom, my whole purpose was to figure out if he wanted more out of this thing to give weight to Kennedy’s concern, and then … it exploded.
It wasn’t until Hudson asked me what I want that my thoughts ground to a halt.
Because it never occurred to me that would matter.
I wasn’t lying when I told him that I’d stopped wanting anything, because somewhere along the line, I’ve woven myself so deeply into the town that it’s all I know.
What do I want? Whatever is best for Wilde’s End.
I want safety. Protection. For this place to thrive.
I want all my Wenders to live in peace. Those are the only wants I’ve had for twenty years because if the town is okay, then I’m okay.
It never occurred to me that I could want Hudson too.
Not like this.
Wanting him for an orgasm is more of a primal urge.
Wanting him for me , that’s deeper. Intentional. And it’s the wanting on purpose that scares me.
“I think I have feelings for him.” The words are a slow drip of confession.
“ That’s why it ended? He didn’t want that?”
I shake my head because I’m still not sure of the exact reason for it. “No. I didn’t tell him.”
“Why not?”
“Because what if he doesn’t feel the same? ”
Rooney’s mismatched colored eyes turn sympathetic. “Then he doesn’t feel the same. But at least then you know. It’s the not knowing that tears you up inside.”
Apparently, because I’m feeling fucking torn right now.
“So I’m supposed to walk up to him and … say what?”
“Exactly what you told me. That you think you have feelings for him.”
Even the concept of that makes me lightheaded. “I can’t do that.”
“It’s a very normal part of dating.”
Is it? I rub at one of my scars, trying to remember that time in my life.
Everything from before Wilde’s End is shoved down tight, and pulling out each slip of memory takes effort.
Like picking the scab off a wound. A flash of a face.
The press of lips during a first sloppy kiss. Nerves and heartbreak and nerves again.
The intensity of it all makes me feel sick.
“I used to think you weren’t scared of anything,” Rooney says.
“I’m not.”
“Then why are you scared of Hudson?”
That quirk in his lips, his never-ending words, those eyelashes, and the confidence he wears like armor. The way it all slowly breaks down under my palms and I’m treated to the truest him I’ve seen yet. “Because he could hurt me.”
“Kurt—”
I look up sharply, breath hissing between my teeth at a name I haven’t heard in forever. It grates at my heart, and I want to demand he take it back, but Rooney’s gaze is unflinching.
“You’re already hurting. I don’t think you’ve ever stopped. Maybe, this once, you stop running from it.”
“How do you know that name? ”
“I know everything. I saw all the articles when it happened, but I never mentioned it because how do you bring up something like that?”
“You know who I am?” My throat is trying to close over.
“The whole time.” He looks uneasy as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. “It wasn’t my business. We don’t ask. But I’m saying that I do know you, and I know you can do this.”
“I can’t promise him anything.”
“Then don’t. Promises are stupid anyway. All you’re looking for right now is where you two begin. The rest can happen when it happens.”
“The rest can happen …” I think I’m more saying it to convince myself than anything. I’m getting so caught in by all these next steps when he’s right. Promising forever isn’t for me. It’s not for Hudson either.
I want to treat him right, so will that be enough for me to actually do it? It’s too early to tell. Just like it’s too early to tell whether we’ll ever get through our countless other obstacles. But damn I want to try.
Rooney nods at something in my expression. “That’s right, Wilde. You’ve got this.”
I really, actually don’t think that I do. It’s this needling in the back of my mind, reminding me of Old End and Hudson’s short temper. Of my demons and refusal to feel.
We’re both untethered weights, but maybe we can help each other not to sink completely.
I stride toward my truck, determined to do it now before this courage deserts me.
The whole drive, it’s like I’m rattling out of my skin, and that’s almost enough reason for me to head home instead.
I don’t like this uncertainty. I don’t like the way it rips me from the mundane hum and launches me into overdrive, like I’m facing down with a mountain lion instead of Hudson .
The mountain lion would probably be easier though. They scare in a way I’ve never been able to scare Hudson before.
Old End appears way too soon, and I almost forget to hit the brakes.
The urge to keep driving, long and far, is tempting, and the sickening knot in my gut is almost too much for me.
I pull up in front of the house they’ve been working on, the one where my blood still stains the cement out the front, and I suck down a deep breath before popping open my door.
I climb out as Kennedy and Hartwell get to the front door.
I don’t bother with hellos.
“Need to talk to Hudson.”
Hartwell crosses his arms. “Good luck with that.”
“Just tell him I need a minute.”
“He’s not here,” Kennedy cuts in.
I glance toward where the car normally sits. “When will he be back?”
“Probably never.” Kennedy narrows his eyes. “At least that’s what he said.”
The blood feels like it gurgles from my body. “ What ?”
“Apparently, you and Kenny made him angry,” Hart adds. “Nice for it not to be me for a change.”
“That wasn’t the point!” Kennedy snaps.
“Still happened.”
I cut in before they can go back and forth. “Where can I find him?”
Kennedy sets a heartbreaking look on me. “Probably with Sutton.”
That name rings in my ears. “ Sutton ?”
“I think he’s trying to prove a point.”
“I need an address. Now.”
Hartwell disappears back inside, but Kennedy shakes his head .
“It’s too late. He would have been home for hours by now.”
“Does it look like I care? I don’t know if I deserve Hudson, but I know that asshole sure as fuck doesn’t.
If I have to drag him off your brother myself, then I will.
” I’ll snap his fucking dick off if it’s gone anywhere near Hudson because this bloody rushing, heart-pounding fear isn’t something I’ve ever experienced before.
All because I couldn’t answer his goddamn question.
Hart rejoins us and jogs down the short steps to hand me a piece of paper. “His address.”
“Thanks.”
“Can we …” Kennedy takes a step forward. “Can we come with you? I hate the way we left things.”
I glance between their near identical faces, tempted but unmoved.
“No.”
Then I climb back into my truck and gun the engine, trying to hold tight against this sickening pit gnawing deeper into my gut.
This is between me and Hudson.
If I have my way, they can sort things out when we both get back.