by Rye Hart
“So when do I get to see the famous hermit cabin?” she says. “Hugh, I’m assuming you’re the fighter that she came out here looking for. What does that make you, Sam? Like, a treasure hunter?”
“It makes me bored with this conversation. Hugh, let’s get out of here. We’ve got to work on the story.”
Lacey wipes her mouth daintily with a napkin. “I can’t wait. I’ll ride with you two.”
“That’s fine,” says Hugh, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. Is he into her? Is everything we’ve done just a fling for him? I mean, I knew--we both knew--that it wouldn’t last forever, I think, but is he discarding me in front of me?
Soon we’re headed back to the cabin with Lacey chattering a mile a minute. She thinks there are too many trees. She’s worried about mosquitos. Does Hugh have any sunscreen? How does he make sure he never gets lost? How often does he take women back to his “lair?” What’s the tallest tree in the world? She has also recently heard on a podcast that trees can talk to each other and she seems legitimately anxious that they might all be gossiping about her.
Hugh takes this all in stride. He doesn’t say much, but he responds when she talks to him, gives me nudges with his elbow when she really gets going, and it all seems fine. Normal enough. But I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.
When we get to the cabin she screams her head off and races around, saying it’s the most perfect place she has ever seen.
By the time Hugh locks the door behind us she has already found the wine and poured three glasses. “Don’t worry,” she says, “I’ll be entertaining enough to pay you back for the wine.”
I bet you’d like that I think, feeling petty and jealous, though nothing has really happened yet.
I take Lacey up to my room--I’m already thinking of it as my room--when she says she has to pee. As soon as we’re up there she closes the door and locks it. “So what’s going on?” she hisses. “Are you two fucking? Oh my God, he’s so hot, and I think he looks really familiar? Who do you think he reminds me of? I can’t figure it out. He’s so hot! You’re so lucky!”
I’m obviously not responding the way she thinks I should, because she suddenly sits back, crosses her arms, and says, “Do I smell bad or something? Why are you making that face? You are totally weirding me out, are you mad I came?”
“No, it’s just...we’ve been doing so well that I--”
“And now what? It’s all ruined because I’m here? I just wanted a little break. I mean, it’s not like I expected you to get me a trophy for flying out to surprise you, but I thought you might enjoy it. I didn’t know I was getting between you and the love of your life!”
“He’s not the love of my life.”
“Why can’t you just be happy? You said you wanted a guy. You needed a new boyfriend after Owen. At least you got to come out here and bang this hottie. Are you saying it might turn into more?”
I’m not sure where the anger comes from, but I want to say whatever I can to shut her up right now.
“I’m just here to do a story and that’s that! You think some lumberjack can turn my head just because some fucking coin collector cheated on me? I’m finishing the story and I’m out of here. Case closed!”
My voice has gotten so much louder than I meant it too. That’s when I notice the shadow under the door. Two shadows, cast by Hugh’s feet. Now they’re moving away slowly.
He obviously heard everything I just said. Fuck.
CHAPTER TWENTY : HUGH MADDOX
Lacey is a fucking trip. Gorgeous, probably fun for a night or two, but a fucking trip and a headcase. I would be bored with her within a week. Sam was so much more my speed. And I thought I was hers.
Then I decided to take coffee up to surprise them and I find myself eavesdropping on a conversation that I never should have heard.
But this is my fucking house. I have told Sam things about myself that I barely even admit to myself. And she tells her friend that I’m basically nothing to her? That I’m just some story?
My first inclination is to knock the door down, kick them both out, and tell Sam that if she ever prints one word about me or my whereabouts that I will sue her ass for slander.
I feel more let down than I do angry, though. I can’t believe my ears. Maybe I’m being overly sensitive. Maybe she’s having a bad day or Lacey is bringing out the worst in her. I don’t know. But I do know that I wasn’t going to stick around for the rest of the conversation. I went out back and started hitting the bag.
Eventually, maybe five rounds in, Sam stepped out onto the deck.
“Are you okay?” she says.
Wham. “Why shouldn’t I be?”
“I know you were outside the door.”
“Why shouldn’t I be outside my door?”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
Wham.
“Sam, I don’t know what you mean. I’m not sure you know what you mean. But I know what I heard and I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I’m really fucking disappointed in you. You were great but I have opened up in a way that I never thought I could. I’m grateful to you for it. But if you think I’m just some story? If you’ve just been baiting me, letting me use you to butter me up for a story? Then you can fuck right off and forget you ever knew me.”
Wham.
I can’t hit the bag hard enough. Can’t outstrike the pain. She puts her hand on my shoulder. “Lacey’s gone,” she says. “I sent her away. Will you take that walk with me?”
I give the bag one last knee to what would be an opponent’s midsection and I step back undoing my wrist wraps as fast as I can. “Okay. But after that I want you to go. I thought there was more to you. But what do I know? I’ve certainly been wrong before.” I walk away and turn back around. “Oh, and I get to choose where we’re walking to.”
I stalk off, knowing I sound petulant, not really caring. Such as it is, I have made a new life for myself out here. I get dressed, put on a sweatshirt and pants. As I move through the house it’s obvious that Lacey really is gone. Maybe I’m being too hard on Sam, but I couldn’t control my anger.
I realize that one of my problems with what I heard is that I’m fine being nothing—I took myself out to the middle of nowhere and vanished. I made myself nothing, invisible, a ghost, and I did it on purpose. And I know what it’s like to be told I’m everything. Those heady days at the top of the fight game were fucking exhilarating and I wore it well while it lasted.
What I’m not used to being is something, somewhere in the middle. I’m not going to tolerate just being there for someone else’s fucking convenience.
“Let’s go,” I say, coming back out onto the porch. “I want to show you something before you go.” I walk fast, not really caring if she can keep up.
She doesn’t say anything. Maybe she’s feeling something like I am.
Something like mourning.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE : SAM WASHINGTON
God, I’m such an asshole. I’m not letting Hugh off the hook; frankly I think he’s being a huge baby. But I know how it must have sounded and he obviously wasn’t prepared for it.
I don’t want to let myself off the hook either but I was just blabbing. Sometimes the only way to get Lacey to be quiet is just to talk faster and louder than she is. That’s not always a guarantee that what comes out of my mouth is going to be the height of wit and insight.
But what I know for sure is that Hugh means much more to me than what I let off to Lacey. Less than 72 hours in and I’m hooked. I can’t imagine going back to New York without him. But will he even want anything to do with me now?
Hugh is walking so fast. I can barely keep up. Then it seems like he doesn’t want me to keep up, so I slow down on purpose and try to enjoy the scenery. Now that the rain is gone, I can see more clearly. The whispering aspens hiss and shift. Light reflects off of the remaining small puddles on and in the rocks and leaves. The air is clean and I’m struck by how quiet everything is except
for the crunch of our feet and our breathing.
“Hugh,” I say. “I need to rest.”
He stops ahead, and then turns around. “We’re almost there,” he says. There’s a note in his voice that almost sounds like pleading, but Hugh is not a man who pleads.
“Just give me a second.”
He nods and takes a step towards me. I can see him softening, I think. I hope so. If this is about to end, whatever it was, I’m desperate for us to part as friends. Or at least, not as enemies.
“Come on,” he says. “I think this will be interesting for you. And maybe for your story.” He says this last bit over his shoulder and I feel a rush of hope. Maybe we’re going to be able to handle this all like grownups after all.
We step through the trees and emerge into a clearing of waist-high grass. In the distance is a snow-capped mountain peak. There are two deer near the opposite tree line. And in the middle of the clearing is a pile of stones that rise to the height of Hugh’s chest.
Hugh walks to the stones and drops to one knee. He turns and motions me closer.
“Andrew always wanted to be cremated,” he says. “After the funeral, I took his ashes and brought him out here. This is his burial mound. I’m not spiritual or religious or whatever you want to call it. But I think he would have gotten a kick out of this. It has helped me in some ways, having him this close. But I also wonder if it’s been unhealthy for me.”
He lets out a deep slow breath. I put a hand on the top of his thigh and press gently. “Didn’t he have family?” I say.
Hugh smiles sadly. “I didn’t tell you anything about my dad. Or mom. She died when I was young. I don’t even remember her. But my dad was an army guy. I lived all over the world while I was a teenager. Andrew was my half-brother. I’m not sure why dad never wanted him to know, but he always told Andrew that he had adopted him. Honestly, the old man told so many lies that maybe he was telling the truth. I don’t know for a fact that Andrew wasn’t adopted. Point being, we were raised together like brothers. We were brothers. And I got my brother killed. Then I let the cops let me go because I was a big shot.”
He puts his hand out and touches the stones. “I miss you buddy,” he says. “I’m so sorry.”
His voice is strong and steady but the grief in it is obvious and heavy.
“Hugh, you have to stop blaming yourself,” I say.
“I can’t. Even if I should. And I’m not sure about that.”
“Hugh, look at me.” I reach over and turn his face to me. “What would help? There has to be something. What are you afraid of?”
Astonishingly, he laughs. Then he wags a finger at me. “You know what, Sam? That’s the right question. What I’m afraid of. I’ll tell you, and then I’m going to let you decide what to do with my answer. I’m not angry anymore. I know that what you said was just talk. I was being a brat and I’m sorry. But now I’m going to give you one more chance to back out. Do you really want to hear this?”
What does he mean by “back out?” What if I say no?
“Tell me,” I say.
“Okay,” he says. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. This might change everything you think you know about me.”
I wait.
“Sam,” he says, “I’ve never known what it feels like to be defenseless. When you fight, you always know that it only ends in one of two ways. You win or the other guy wins. It can look like a lot of different things, but that’s always the outcome. You both accept it and you prepare accordingly, knowing full well that it might not be your night.”
“Okay.” I’m not sure what he’s getting at, but I like him in this mode. This balance of philosophical and brutish and brooding.
“Even in a fight you lose, you’ve always got a chance. Lucky punch. He makes a mistake. Whatever, but you keep fighting because you know you might get a chance to capitalize on something. That’s why you build up your technique, stamina, and strength. So you can defend yourself. I like that feeling. Always being prepared. It’s what a lot of men are missing. They don’t know what they’re capable of because they don’t prepare. Sometimes they don’t even know how.”
He looks at the stones and it doesn’t quite feel like he’s talking to me anymore. I’m glad I don’t have my recorder with me. I would have been tempted to get this on record. Not to use, but to play for him later. I’m not sure he would recognize himself.
Then he turns to me. “There’s no defense for you, Sam. Nothing I could have done, or that I can do now, makes me feel like I have a chance of resisting you. I’ve never been in this position.” He looks away.
My heart is like a bird trapped in a cage. Of all the things he might have said, this is the most unexpected.
“What I’m saying is,” he says, “I want you. I want you in my life. I want you to be my life. I know this has been fast but I have to consider the way I’m feeling to be a clue.” He reaches out and touches my cheek with the back of his hand. “If you leave, I’ll be okay, I always am, but I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want to just be just okay anymore.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to know that you will love me the way I already love you.”
The sun breaks through the light smattering of clouds. Even the deer take a step closer to see what’s happening. It’s all so storybook and clichéd that I would probably be laughing if I wasn’t trying not to cry.
“You dont have to be afraid. I feel the same way,” I say. And I mean it. It’s not just me talking out of my ass. Yes, it’s only been a few days but a life without Hugh in it seems like a life diminished. “What do we do now?”
He smiles and takes my hand. “I know another spot,” he says. “Come with me.”
Hugh pulls me gently along the edge of the clearing back into the trees. He winds through the woods and seems to double back, crisscrossing and zinging and zagging until I’m sure that we’re lost. I begin to hear a sound that’s familiar, even though I know I’ve never actually heard it in person before.
We step out of the trees near a lake that was completely hidden from view until now.
“You’re not going to believe this,” he says. Then he runs towards the water, stripping off his shirt as he goes. Somehow he manages to get his pants off without stopping his stride. He plunges in, diving headfirst, a movement he has obviously done many times before. When he resurfaces he calls me for to join him.
I can’t get my clothes off fast enough. Although the rain is gone, I’m already anxious about the chill that will settle on my skin as soon as I expose it to the air. I run to the water, not as fast as Hugh, and jump in, bracing myself for the icy shock.
It doesn’t come. The lake is a thermal hot spring. It is slightly warmer than my usual showers, and I feel my body come to life.
When I come up for air Hugh is gliding slowly towards me like a sexy shark. I know how he’s feeling. I move away from him, forcing him to wait. He goes low in the water so just his eyes peer out, all the while moving towards me. Suddenly he dives under. He swims against my thigh, grazing it with his fingertips.
I lower myself into the water so only my head remains above. Hugh resurfaces right in front of me. His eyes are wild and he’s grinning. I like this playful side of him.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” he says, working his hands under me and lifting me to him. “There are all kinds of dangerous things in this lake.”
When I wrap my arms and legs around him I find that the water is shallow enough that he has his feet on the soft silt bed of the spring.
“Oh?” I ask, playing along. “Will you protect me?” I wrap my arms around his neck bringing our faces close together.
He laughs and looks around. “Darlin, who’s gonna protect you from me?”
I kiss him deeply. His grip tightens on my ass and he moves his mouth to my neck. My body goes limp in his arms as I feel him harden against me. But I’m also in a playful mood.
I push off from his chest and swim away laughing. He lunge
s for me like some sort of sea creature and catches me instantly.
“You think I’m gonna let you go that easily?”
He kisses me and pulls my body against his. It’s hard all over and, as always, I want it. I grab his ass as he handles mine. His mouth moves to my ear and he breathes a little into it as he kisses, making my knees go weak. Hugh works his way down my throat, kissing, licking, sucking, and makes his way to my breasts. He caresses me everywhere while lightly sucking on my nipples. I let out a gasp and he stops. When I open my eyes I see him smiling at me.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” Hugh says, touching my hair.
I lean in and kiss him hard, wrapping my arms and legs around him. His hands go to my clit and he slowly rubs as I bite his tongue. I pull my mouth from his to focus on what he’s doing to me. When I press my cheek to his I can hear him breathing. I feel his heart beating against my chest. It feels so good that I start to rock against his hand as he readies me. I let out a slight moan into his ear and he pulls my earlobe into his mouth, sucking and lightly biting. I moan more and now he moves back to my nipples, sucking and licking, all while strumming my clit.
I lean back in the water, my hands holding onto his shoulders, and let this sensation overwhelm me. He grows harder against me as he sucks at my nipples, moving his mouth back to my neck.
Hugh whispers in my ear, “I have to have you.”
The feeling is mutual.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: HUGH MADDOX
I’ve never seen breasts like this. They’re full, yet sit upright. And I love how sensitive she is to even the slightest touch. I work her clit and give her nipple a little tug with my lips. She lets out a whimper and I know she needs more.
She opens her eyes again and it’s pure desperation. I like teasing her like this. She won’t try swimming away now. I rub a little more just below her clit. She bites her lip and whimpers again, her eyes pleading for more. I slide my finger inside of her and grow harder as she tightens around me. She lets her head fall back and I push deeper, rubbing her clit with my thumb.
