Crystal Lake Veterinary Clinic was located in the new development on the other side of the water and looked more like a private doctor’s clinic. She supposed it was in keeping with the moneyed folk who’d moved to the luxury homes surrounding the new golf course, but she wasn’t complaining. More newcomers meant more dollars poured into the town, and that meant more jobs. She liked her coworkers, and her boss, Aiden Burke, was the sweetest little old man. He was close to retiring, and the buzz in the office was that his son, Ethan, would move back to Crystal Lake and take over the clinic.
“He’s back.” Kimberly Higgins, one of the associate vets, stood a few feet from Rebecca, a huge smile on her face, eyes twinkling.
Rebecca slipped behind the reception counter and slid her purse into her cubby underneath. “Who?” She was almost afraid to ask as her thoughts returned to Hudson Blackwell.
“Ethan! I heard Aiden speaking to his wife on the phone.”
Relieved, Becca hung up her jacket. So the rumors were true. Ethan Burke was a few years older than Rebecca and had never returned home after college. A tall, good-looking kid, he’d had a knack for finding trouble both on the football field and in the backseat of many a car. He’d been part of Hudson’s crowd.
Hudson. With a scowl, she slid onto her chair just as the door opened. Mrs. Ryan walked in with her overweight pug and just behind her, a new client with a box full of mewing kittens. Thank God for distractions. Rebecca pushed all thoughts of Hudson Blackwell aside and got to work.
The day passed quickly, and at five thirty, she pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store and gave Liam his list. He was in a grumpy mood—after hockey practice, he’d wanted to hang with his buddy Michael. But groceries were their thing, and it was a thing they did together.
“I’m going to Michael’s for dinner,” Liam mumbled as he slid from the car. “So I don’t know why I couldn’t just go there after hockey.” He slammed the door shut—just a little too aggressively—and Rebecca shot him a look as she got out.
“I’m not doing this with you, Liam.” She frowned and watched him stomp into the store. Her son was a good kid, but lately, he’d been moody, and his mouth was starting to aggravate her. With a sigh, she followed him inside, telling herself his attitude was understandable. He’d been through a lot in the last year and a half.
Rebecca glanced down at her list and grabbed a cart. The two of them were usually able to get in and out in thirty minutes or less, and after the day she had, she wanted nothing more than to get home, put her feet up, and watch some mindless reality show while she munched on whatever was handy. It was only Wednesday, but takeout pizza might be a good idea.
She was almost to the produce section when she ran into Mr. Hines, one of the clinic’s clients.
As she picked out the freshest apples she could find, she half listened to the older gentleman go on about his cat, Oliver, who’d recently suffered through a bout of crystals. She nodded and smiled where appropriate, moving on to the grapes and oranges. Of course Mr. Hines followed, and she eventually had to smile and excuse herself by pointing to her watch.
“Of course, dear. I’ll see you next week when I bring Ollie in for his needles.”
A headache was crawling up the side of her skull, and she undid her ponytail, groaning softly as the hair fell loosely down her back. She headed to dairy and hoped that Liam was close to conquering the cereal aisle. They usually met in the meat section, and after tossing in eggs, butter, cheese, and two cartons of milk, Becca swung past the deli and ordered up sliced ham and turkey for sandwiches before heading to the back of the store.
She was almost to the meat section when her world tilted a little off-center and she came to a halt. Liam stood near the display case and appeared to be deep in conversation with none other than the one man she did not want to see. Hudson Blackwell.
Seriously.
“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, casting a quick glance around to see if anyone was paying attention. Could she grab her kid and go without causing a scene?
Her hands gripped the grocery cart, and she bit her lips as she considered her options. Was she really going to hide from him like a weak little schoolgirl? Really? She inhaled and straightened her shoulders. No. Rebecca Draper was done hiding. She’d been done for a while.
Pushing forward, she made a beeline to the pair and was proud of herself when she didn’t break eye contact with Hudson when he turned to her. Dressed in faded jeans, boots, and blue-and-red flannel over a white T-shirt, he looked way better than she would have liked, but Rebecca ignored his dark good looks and paused in front of him. The words she’d wanted to say the other night bubbled beneath the surface, wanting out, but she didn’t think taking a strip off Hudson Blackwell in the middle of the grocery store and in front of her son was a smart idea.
Choices, her brother Mackenzie always said. Smart choices.
His thick, dark hair was kind of messy, as if the wind had pulled at it, or some woman’s fingers had run across his scalp. And that rugged mouth of his was slightly open as his eyes widened. There were smudges beneath them—as if he hadn’t slept all that much, but she chose to ignore them. What did she care?
He looked at Liam and then back to Rebecca. For a moment, there were no words, and then he spoke, his voice low and with a hint of rasp. Just the way she remembered.
“I should have known this was your kid. He looks a lot like Mac.”
She nodded and managed to answer without sounding as if she was bothered by his presence. Which she was. Big-time. “He does.”
“You know my mom?” Liam asked brightly, unaware of the tension between the adults.
Hudson dragged his gaze from Rebecca and smiled at her son. “I do.”
Liam tossed a package of ground beef into his basket. “Like from school and stuff?”
“Yes,” Rebecca answered curtly. “From school.” She paused, her eyes never leaving Hudson even as his gaze swung back to her. “And stuff.” She tried like hell to keep the bitterness from her voice but knew she’d failed miserably when Liam cranked his head around in surprise.
“You okay, Mom?”
“Yes, Liam. I’m perfectly fine.” In fact, the slow-burning anger that bubbled beneath the surface since she had spied Hudson two days earlier was slow burning no more. It swept over her like a wave crashing against the shore, and before she knew it, she was diving under.
She was not perfectly fine. Not by a long shot. And that was what pissed her off even more. The fact that Hudson Blackwell could still make her feel this way made her angry. And after all this time. She’d worked too long and too hard to get to a place where things were good. No way was she letting him take that away from her.
He was just a ghost from the past. A ghost who’d nearly broken her, mind you, but a ghost nonetheless. He didn’t matter anymore. Of course, if Rebecca had been thinking clearly, she would have realized that all the feelings coursing through her told the exact opposite story. He might be a ghost from the past, but he was also a thread that had been left dangling. One that had never been tied off. Hudson mattered. The story behind him and her mattered. She just didn’t want to acknowledge it. At least, not right now.
Exhaling slowly, she ran a hand over her cheek and tucked back a thick swath of hair. “How long are you staying in town?” She knew she sounded rude, but didn’t care, noting the full grocery cart in front of him.
If Hudson was surprised by her tone or question, he didn’t show it. In fact, he seemed as relaxed as ever as he ran his hand through that mess of hair atop his head. The tattoos on his forearm were visible, and for one second, her vision blurred and she was back in a place she never thought she’d be.
“Huds, my dad will kill me if he ever sees this tattoo.”
“Then don’t let him see it.” His kisses made her ache, and she bloomed beneath the touch of his hands. It was early morning, and the sun was just coming up, lighting their tent afire and sweeping the shadows away. Outside, th
e birds were already awake, singing to each other and celebrating a new day.
His mouth trailed a line of fire down her stomach until he reached the small tattoo on her right hip. He’d gotten the match on the inside of his wrist. “This is only for me.”
His fingers sank inside her, and she nodded as her body began to hum. “Only for you,” she whispered.
As she blinked rapidly, Rebecca’s heart beat so fast she heard it in her ears and shook her head as the memory faded. Hudson and Liam were looking at her strangely.
“What was that?” she asked.
“My dad’s not well,” Hudson replied slowly. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be around.”
Right. Of course. Lips pursed, she didn’t say anything.
“None of my brothers could be here, so…” He shrugged, his face now devoid of any kind of emotion, save for the hardness around his mouth. She knew there was no love lost between the Blackwell boys and their father. That was common knowledge. She just didn’t know the why of it. It was, among many things, something Hudson had never shared with her.
“Right. Well, we should go.” She nodded to Liam.
“You look amazing, Becs.”
Rebecca’s head shot up so fast, she saw stars, and for a second, she had nothing to say. Not that it mattered. Hudson gave her a small nod. “I just thought you should know.” And headed toward the dairy aisle.
The anger inside her deflated—just a little bit—and that wasn’t something she’d seen coming.
“Mom. You look funny. You okay?”
She smiled wanly and motioned for Liam to head to the checkout. “I’m good,” she murmured, following her son. She scooped up a bottle of wine along the way because she was so not okay. Her heart was still beating a mile a minute. She felt weak and dizzy. And on top of that, something inside her ached. It ached so much, she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. And that was silly. Damn silly. She hadn’t shed a tear since the day she walked out on David, and she wasn’t about to do it now on account of some stupid trip down memory lane.
She especially wasn’t going to cry over Hudson Blackwell. That well had run dry years ago.
She gave herself a mental shake and stood in line for all of ten minutes, muscles straining from tension at the thought of Hudson appearing. He didn’t, and she wasn’t exactly sure if it was relief she felt or something else entirely.
Deciding she wouldn’t dwell on it, she grabbed her bags and headed out to the parking lot, the bottle of wine tucked under her arm. She had everything she needed. A new home and a new life. She’d escaped a miserable marriage, a bastard of a husband, and made something out of nothing. She shouldn’t feel like this.
Except she did. Because down there, buried deep inside her, was an empty space that needed filling up. And she was afraid it would remain empty the rest of her life.
Chapter 3
Hudson hated hospitals. The smell. The crazy order to things. The nurses and doctors. The cold tiled floors and bland walls filled with cheap prints of beaches and sailboats. His mood hadn’t improved since he’d returned home, and now that he’d finally made it to Grandview, he wasn’t so sure things would get better.
His phone buzzed just then, and with an apologetic glance to the nurse behind the reception desk—Ms. Daniels, according to her nametag—he pulled the device from his pocket and moved to the stairwell. It was his brother Wyatt.
“Yeah,” he said roughly, leaning his long frame against the cement wall.
“You see him yet?” That was Wyatt, straight to the point.
“I’m at Grandview now.”
A pause.
“Okay. Sorry I couldn’t be there.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Got me there. The last time I saw the old man, he told me I was gonna die young and not to bother calling him when it happened. I told him that would be kind of hard to do considering, you know, the whole being-dead thing. He just made that noise he always does and took a business call. Just like that, I was dismissed. Hell, I bet he didn’t realize I left Crystal Lake until days later.”
Hudson sighed. “Not to be on his side or anything, but that last crash was a son of a bitch.” His brother had a fondness for cars. Fast cars. Unfortunately for the family, he raced them and was currently the darling of the NASCAR circuit.
“Everyone crashes and I came out of it with nothing more than a mild concussion and a few bruises.”
“You were lucky.”
“Look, I didn’t call for a lecture. I called to see how the old man was doing.”
Hudson glanced at the door. “I’m about to find out.”
“You get hold of Travis yet?”
“I talked to him before I left DC. He’s got his first preseason game on Friday in Toronto.”
“Baby bro in the big leagues. Who would have thought?” The youngest Blackwell had lived and breathed hockey since he was three. It was their mother who’d taken them to the rink. Their mother who’d encouraged the boys when it came to sports, especially hockey. And when she died, Hudson lost his love of the game. Not Travis. To him, it became a lifeline, an escape from a home shrouded in sadness. Hell, he’d hitchhike to the arena if he had to, and that wasn’t too far from the truth considering their father had pretty much disappeared from their lives after their mother passed. He provided a roof over their head, put clothes on their backs, and made sure they didn’t go without. But that was about it.
It hadn’t always been that way.
Hudson cleared his throat, shaking off a memory he didn’t want to think about. “I’ll let you know how he’s doing.”
“All right. I’m headed to New England for a race.”
“You watch your ass out there.”
Wyatt laughed. “Always, brother.”
Hudson pocketed his phone and headed back into the main reception area of the fifth floor. He nodded at Nurse Daniels and strode down the hall, not stopping until he reached the private wing at the end where his father was. He didn’t hesitate. He pushed open the door and entered the room.
The lighting was dim, and it took a few seconds for his eyesight to adjust. His father was asleep, and Hudson stared at him in silence, noting every detail with a clinical eye. John Blackwell still sported a full head of silver-white hair, but there was significant weight loss. It showed in the drawn features, threw shadows across skin stretched too tight over bone. His breathing sounded like shit, even with the oxygen mask in place.
Hudson shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and took a few steps forward, chest tight as if held in a vise. John Blackwell had always been a big, tough, strong man with a no-nonsense attitude and a gruff disposition. He’d ruled his sons with an iron fist that left no room for softness or coddling. To see him so less than what he’d been was more than a little unsettling for Hudson.
There were flowers on the table beside the bed, cards propped up alongside them and… Hudson blinked and walked over, bending slightly so he could get a better look. A family photograph stared up at him, and that vise in his chest tightened. It tightened hard. Christ, he remembered the day like it just happened. They’d gone out for a day of fishing, just John and the boys. For a bunch of kids starving for the affection of their father, it had been a day to cherish.
The three of them stood side by side in the boat, each of them holding up their catch, while behind them, their father grinned, a relatively elusive thing back then. In the picture, Hudson wasn’t looking at the camera but up at his father.
A knot formed in his throat, and he took a step back. Hudson could still feel the yearning, the need for a connection lost.
He gave himself a mental shake and pulled up a chair. He sat beside the bed, stretching out his long legs and resting his eyes as he settled in to wait. He didn’t have to wait long.
“Hudson?”
The voice was weak, a little rough and hesitant. Hudson’s eyes flew open, and he got to his feet so that he stood beside the bed. His father yanked off
the oxygen mask, and pale blue eyes stared up at him.
“Hey, Dad.”
John Blackwell let out a shaky breath and with lips pursed, struggled to get to a sitting position. Hudson would have helped, but his father wouldn’t have it. So he took a step back and watched the man until he finally managed to get the pillows just so.
“I see you’re still as stubborn as hell.” Hudson shook his head and frowned. As the oldest of the Blackwell boys, his relationship with his father was a little more complicated. Mostly because he’d been nearly ten when his mother died, and he remembered a father much different from the one he’d become.
John coughed a bit and then fell back against the pillows, his chest heaving in an effort to get air into his lungs. End-stage heart disease and emphysema would do that to a man. He took another hit from his oxygen mask.
“Who called you?” his father managed to say between coughing spells.
“Darlene.”
“Bah.” John wasn’t pleased. That much was obvious. “She shouldn’t have bothered you. I know you’re busy making sure those bastards don’t get us again.”
“Don’t worry about my job. I had some time coming.” As a special agent with the FBI, Hudson worked in homeland security. He loved his job. Loved the guys he worked with and, truth be told, if Darlene hadn’t called to tell him his father was on his deathbed, no way would he be back in Crystal Lake.
In fact, Darlene had made a point of telling him it had been exactly twelve years since he’d stepped foot in this town and that it was damn time he rectified that. Technically she was wrong but then no one knew about his return trip, or the fact that he’d pretty much turned tail and ran as quick as he’d come back.
Darlene Smith might just be the best thing that had ever happened to the Blackwell family, but shit, there were times when she should mind her own business. Not that Hudson would ever tell her that. She just might show him the back of her hand.
You Make Me Weak (The Blackwells of Crystal Lake Book 1) Page 2
