Complete Fixed: The Complete Fixed Series: Books 1-5

by Laurelin Paige

Hudson cut me off. “Don’t leave.”

  His desperation stunned me. Did that mean he did want me there? The man was a bunch of mixed signals. This signal I liked. I’d cling to it, if he’d let me. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

  “For Mira.”

  My spirits plummeted. “For Mira. Of course.” Not for him. He didn’t want me to stay for him.

  All of a sudden, I wasn’t sure if I could do it anymore, if I could remain self-controlled around him. I turned away and made my way to a couch. With shaking knees, I took a seat.

  Sitting was better. It made me feel stronger than I was. I thought about the reason we were there—the perky romantic sitting in the room nearby. Her faith and encouragement had been instrumental in reuniting me with Hudson. Even if she couldn’t save us again, I owed her.

  I lifted my chin and met Hudson’s eyes. “Then we need to put everything else aside for right now and give Mira our happy face.”

  He held my gaze for only a second. “I agree.”

  There was plenty of room on the couch by me, but he took a seat in a chair instead. He couldn’t even sit by me. The rejection rippled through me with excruciating pain. Every move he made, everything he said, hurt.

  I wanted to do the same to him. Wanted to hurt him in all the ways he’d hurt me. My fists tightened into balls as I thought about ripping into him, telling him all the things that were barely under the surface of my composure.

  But again, I remembered why we were there. Mira would be upset if we didn’t walk back in her room together. The best thing I could do for her and myself was make a plan and get back to her. Back to the comfort of people who made me feel good rather than sad.

  Obviously this would require some acting. A lot of acting. “So any idea how to give Mira a happy face? Because she read right through us in there.”

  “She is very perceptive.” Hudson leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs, his chin in his hands. “But I think if we wait here for a while, give us time to supposedly talk things out, then if we go back in there with smiles and…holding hands, she’ll believe it.” His pause said that even holding hands sounded uncomfortable for him. “She wants to believe it, so she will.”

  I made a gruff sound in the back of my throat. “Pretending we’re a couple. Just like old times.”

  His head spun toward me. He fastened me with a piercing stare. “We aren’t pretending we’re a couple. We are a couple. We’re pretending that we’re…that we’re not…” He moved his hand in the air as he tried to figure out how to finish his sentence.

  When he didn’t come up with an end, I pushed him. “That we’re not…what? Not fighting? Not completely confused and heartbroken? Not miserable and lied to?” My voice cracked, and I refused to cry. Biting my lip, I crossed one leg over the other and put all my energy into jostling my knee up and down. It helped to focus my pain.

  Hudson stared at the wall across from him, refusing to respond or look at me.

  I should have dropped it, but I couldn’t help myself. “I don’t understand how you can say we’re a couple when you’re living in one place and I’m in another. When you’re on dates with another woman.”

  “I told you what that was,” he said quietly.

  I ignored him. “When you won’t even let me touch you without acting like it burns.” I shook my head. I was getting too upset. “I said I wouldn’t do this here. I’m sorry.” Except I really wasn’t. “Sort of.”

  I wanted him to refute my words, wanted him to explain how things really were. But he didn’t. Sure, it wasn’t the time or place—I knew that in my head. My heart, on the other hand, didn’t care. I was in so much pain, how could he not be? And if he wasn’t, what did that mean?

  It means he can compartmentalize, I told myself. That’s all. God, what I’d give to believe that was all it was.

  We sat in silence, the only sound the clicking of the seconds ticking by on the wall clock. Finally, Hudson spoke, his voice low and sincere. “Touching you only burns because it reminds me how much I want to touch you more.”

  A wave of optimism burst through me, so tangible and fierce that my whole chest felt on fire. “Then touch me more, H. Come home.”

  He raised a brow and his expression carried the same air of hope that I felt. “And you’ll let the past lie?”

  With everything in me I wanted to say yes. Yes, I’ll live with it. Whatever it is. I’d find a way. I’d said that before, and I’d thought I meant it. But I’d been talking desperate. I couldn’t live with it. There was no possible way.

  Besides, I respected myself more than that. I respected our relationship more than that. Even if it meant losing him, I had to stand my ground on this. “No. I can’t let it lie. But you can tell me what it is you’re hiding.”

  With a shake of his head, he dismissed it.

  There we were again—at our impasse. “We might as well be broken up, Hudson, if you can’t believe that I’d love you beyond whatever this secret is.”

  And if we truly couldn’t get past this, why were we even taking time apart? Weren’t we just postponing the inevitable?

  It wasn’t something I could face. Not yet. Maybe the time apart was to help make that idea more bearable.

  Apparently, Hudson felt the same way. “Let’s not do this here.”

  “Let’s not.” Let’s not do this at all. Let’s go back to where we were three days ago, lost and alone in the mountains. Happy and glowing, as Mira put it.

  If there were anything I’d ever wished for more, I didn’t know what it was.

  But wishing wouldn’t get us through the next hour. I stood up and paced the room. “Okay. We’ll go in there. We’ll smile. We’ll hold hands. We’ll be happy and glowing. And Mira will never know the lie.”

  “Yes,” Hudson said. “Thank you.”

  “What if she asks what our problem was?”

  “She won’t.”

  I wasn’t so sure and the expression I shot him said exactly that.

  “If she does ask, let me handle it.”

  “Yes, I’ll do that.” The venom I was trying to bite back slipped past my lips. “You are the master manipulator, after all.”

  He stared at me with sad eyes. I’d meant to hurt him, and it worked. But he didn’t argue, didn’t defend himself. He wouldn’t even fight with me. Wouldn’t fight for me.

  It’s not the place, I reminded myself. The reminder didn’t change the hollow ache in my chest. I knew his indifference extended beyond the walls of the hospital.

  Hudson stood. “Are you ready to go back?” He shoved his hands in his pockets, obviously keeping them from my reach.

  Fucking asshole.

  I didn’t let him know how much his simple gesture felt like a knife in the gut. “You think she’ll believe this was long enough?”

  “Yes.” He moved to the door and held it open for me. “If we convince her that all is well, then she won’t focus on the timespan in the least. She’ll have no reason to question what we’re selling.” He was so clinical about it. So proficient about the steps of pulling off a scheme.

  And why wouldn’t he be? “Tips from the expert,” I said as I passed him.

  “You’re very good at lashing out, precious. It’s interesting that I’m just learning this now.” He was behind me, and he said it quietly, but I heard him all the same.

  I held on to his endearment—precious—like it was gold. Like it was the last drop of water in a desert. Like it was a beacon in a dark storm. He couldn’t still call me that and not feel something for me. Could he?

  We hurried back to Mira’s room, not speaking or looking at each other. Outside her door, Hudson paused. His hand hung at his side now. I placed mine in it automatically, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Because it was that natural. The way it fit so snugly, so perfectly in his. As if we’d been made to lace our fingers in just that way.

  He looked down at where we were joined, studying our hands for long seconds. There was sadness and yearning in his
tone when he spoke. “Your hand fits so well in mine, doesn’t it? Like it belongs.”

  I had to turn my head in order to fight the tears. He was so in sync with me. Why, why, why were we apart?

  “I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he said. “I apologize. Can you still do this?”

  Forcing a smile on my face, I turned back to him. “Yep.”

  “Showtime, then.” Hudson led us in, entering with much more zeal than he had earlier. “We’re back.” He headed straight for his sister, placing a sweet kiss on her forehead. “And everything’s fine.”

  He was such an excellent liar. I’d known he had to be. I’d seen him pretend to his family about me before. Then I’d convinced myself that his acting was so good because he’d actually felt something for me. Seeing Hudson now, so easily falling into the charade—it stung. How much of the past had been a lie as well?

  Mira narrowed her eyes. “I want to hear it from Laynie. I don’t trust you.” She swatted him aside.

  Taking a deep breath, I pushed away my heartache and reminded myself this was for Mira. I gave her what I feared could only be taken as a fake grin and slid in closer to her. “Everything really is fine.” I looked back at Hudson, hoping for a sign to make the lie easier. I received none. “Maybe not perfect, but things are definitely fine.”

  Mira frowned dubiously.

  Damn. I needed to get my shit together.

  Before I could, Hudson stepped in to save the farce. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, a major show of public affection for Hudson. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Things are completely perfect.”

  He nuzzled his face against my hair and I shivered with an unwelcome tingle from head to toe. I sighed into him. How could I not? This was what I wanted—to be held by him, to be loved by him.

  But this was fake. It had to be or he’d tell me what I needed to know. Right?

  Either way, Mira bought it. She clapped her hands together. “Ah, see? The happy and glowing is back! Thank god.” She cast her eyes around the room, stopping first at her mother beside her, then Adam and Chandler and Jack on the sofa, then to me and Hudson in front of her. “This is the best. Now my whole family’s here.”

  I shifted, feeling a little uncomfortable at her declaration. I wasn’t family. And at the moment, I was sure I never would be. The farce was going too far. I opened my mouth to protest.

  Sophia beat me to it. “Well, not everyone here is family.”

  Mira glared at her mother. “She is. And right now I’d send you out before Laynie. Since I want all my family here, you can sit over there with your mouth shut and pretend you’re shaking because you’re cold and when you get home you can have the drink you wish was in that water bottle.”

  All eyes darted from Mira to Sophia to me. The tension was so thick and palpable. I felt I had to say something. “I should go, Mira. The sentiment is nice, but I’m not really family.”

  Jack met my eyes. “Yes. You are.”

  Hudson tightened his grasp around me. “Agreed.”

  I nodded, not daring to speak. My throat was thick and my eyes filled with tears. At least when Mira looked at me, she thought I was crying out of happiness. She had no idea she was watching my heart break even more.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mira was released shortly after seven a.m. under strict orders to take it easy and drink more water. We all walked out together, Adam and Jack fussing over Mira as an attendant wheeled her to the front door. While I’d both hoped and feared that Hudson would drive me home himself, Jordan was waiting as we exited the main doors. Hudson must have texted him while I wasn’t watching.

  The others had to wait for the valet to bring their cars up, so I was the first to say goodbye. I bent to hug Mira. “Take care of yourself, sister. I don’t want to be back at Lenox Hill until you’re pushing out a baby—and that better be months from now.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. Thanks for coming, Laynie.”

  “Anytime.” I straightened. “Well, my ride’s here.” After all the talk of being part of the family, leaving by myself felt extra lonely. My mixed feelings were no longer mixed—I wanted Hudson to drive me home. Desperately.

  “Your ride…?” Mira looked from me to Hudson, obviously questioning the different cars.

  “We’re off to separate places,” Hudson said. “Alayna gets to go home and crawl in bed. I’m off to work.” Always prepared with an answer, he was. Except when I was asking the questions.

  Mira scowled. “You’re going to work after no sleep? And I’m the one getting yelled at about working too hard.”

  Hudson waved his hand dismissively. “I got enough sleep.” He walked me to the Maybach, opening the back door for me. “I should kiss you goodbye,” he said quietly so that only I could hear.

  “I suppose you should. Do you want to?” I held my breath, afraid of the answer. I didn’t know the answer for myself. It was like what he said in the hospital waiting room—kissing him only reminded me how I wanted to kiss him more. And knowing that I wouldn’t kiss him more anytime soon felt like razorblades to my chest.

  His response only heightened my pain. “I’ve never kissed you just for show, precious. I’m not about to start now.” But his actions said differently when he bent in to deliver a partially open-mouthed kiss, no tongue. The type of affection suitable for onlookers.

  Without permission, my hand flew to the back of his neck. I held him there, locking our lips for much longer than I believe he’d intended. When I finally pulled away, I made sure I had the last word. “That would be easier to believe if your actions matched your words. But, let me guess—you’re not about to start that now either, are you?”

  I slipped in the car and slammed the door before he could respond.

  After five hours of restless sleep, I woke up with another throbbing headache, swollen eyes, and a plan.

  I made two phone calls, right off the bat. One of them was productive, earning me an appointment for the next day with someone who, hopefully, could shed some light on Hudson’s recent behavior.

  The other call got me nowhere. Mirabelle didn’t go into work, of course, so it was Stacy that answered when I called the shop. That was fine. She was whom I wanted to talk to anyway. But even though I pleaded and put on my sweetest voice, she refused to talk any more about the video she’d sent.

  “I told you, I’m done,” she said and hung up.

  I bounced my knee as I thought about what to do next. Then I made one more call. “Can you come over for a bit? I need your help with something.”

  “Um, sure.” Liesl sounded groggy, as if I’d woken her up. It was just after one p.m. I probably had woken her. “I need, like, twenty. And coffee.”

  “Awesome. I’ll send my driver to get you. With Starbucks.”

  I got off the phone, showered and dressed in record speed, and then dove into my project. Projects, I’d learned in therapy, even ridiculously unnecessary ones, were excellent forms of distraction. They helped keep me from doing the crazy things I tended to do when I was hurting. It was possible that this project in particular was as crazy as the things it kept me from doing, but I was ignoring that.

  More than an hour later, Liesl and I sat on the floor of the library surrounded by books—the books that Hudson had ordered for me through Celia. While most of them hadn’t been marked at all, we were pulling those that were. They were easy to find. All of them were bookmarked by Celia Werner’s business card. I planned on burning the pile when we were finished.

  “Here’s another one.” Liesl read the highlighted quote. “‘Don't cry, I'm sorry to have deceived you so much, but that's how life is.’ It’s from Lolita.”

  I cringed. Nabokov. One of my favorites. “Put it in the to-go pile.” On the notepad next to me I scribbled down the quote.

  She stacked it with the others that had been highlighted—the books I planned to get rid of. “What do you think it means?”

  I shook my head and looked over the lis
t in my lap. There were several from my favorite books and some from books I’d never read:

  “People could put up with being bitten by a wolf but what properly riled them was a bite from a sheep.”― James Joyce, Ulysses

  “He who controls the past controls the future. He who controls the present controls the past.”― George Orwell, 1984

  “Blameless people are always the most exasperating.” ― George Eliot, Middlemarch

  “Once a bitch always a bitch, what I say.”― William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury

  “There ain't no sin and there ain't no virtue. There's just stuff people do.”― John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath

  “It's not my fate to give up—I know it can't be.”― Henry James, The Portrait of a Lady

  “There is no harm in deceiving society as long as she does not find you out.”― E.M. Forster, A Passage to India

  There was another page, much of the same. If there was a hidden message, I couldn’t find it. “I’m beginning to think none of them mean anything. They’re simply ominous quotations intended to mess with my mind.”

  Liesl snatched the list from me. She scanned it quickly. “I think she’s talking about herself. She doesn’t think she’s harming anyone, she’s not going to give up, she thinks she controls stuff, and she’s a bitch.” She tossed the notepad to the ground and reached for another book. “So spill it. Why did you so badly want me here for this only mildly entertaining task?”

  I twisted my lips. “I didn’t. There’s something else.” With a deep breath, I spilled the plan that had occupied my mind since waking.

  When I was finished, Liesl sat back against the couch, her forehead pinched. “So let me get this straight—you’re going to obsess and stalk people on purpose?”

  “Research,” I corrected. “Research, dammit! Not stalk.” Though the idea sounded much better in my head than when I said it out loud.

  “You’re obsessed with your boy toy’s past. And you want to track down people to research whatever he’s hiding from you. Right? Or did I miss something?”