Apparently not when Hudson was around.
“Jesus, Becca. Get your shit together.”
The Blackwells’ stone entrance came into sight, and she turned into the driveway. It wove through spruce and pine, and then their house came into view. It was impressive—always had been—stone and brick and windows. And nestled on an incline that gave an impressive view of the lake, one that was hard to find anywhere else.
As she cut the engine, Rebecca’s stomach took a dive and she broke out into a cold sweat. She hadn’t been here in years, but really, if she closed her eyes, it felt like only yesterday. She glanced up at the house, aware that Hudson had pulled up beside her. His headlights went out, and only the muted pot lights that accented the main entrance shone down on them.
Potted mums in rust, yellow, and deep burgundy lined the path that led to the wide entrance, and on either side of the double glass doors stood tall slate-gray pots filled with greens and berries. A soft smile crossed her face. Darlene.
Rebecca sat there for a good long while, wrestling with the thought that she should just fire up the engine, turn around, and head home. But that orbit… It was hard to ignore, and with a small sigh, she got out of her car.
Hudson was leaning against his truck, watching her. Shadows fell over him, and she couldn’t see his face, but she felt the intensity of his gaze and shivered in the damp, cold air. An owl hooted in the distance, and she turned toward the lake. She’d forgotten how much she loved it here. The forest. The water. Surrounded by the kind of pristine nature that was hard to find in town. Only the rich lived out here. Other than Mackenzie making a name for himself in New York City, the Drapers had never had deep pockets.
The owl hooted once more and flew overhead, its wings cutting through the stillness and quiet with great big swoops. Melancholy stole Rebecca’s breath, and with a start, she took a few steps toward the house, but then paused, eyes on the boathouse. Water lapped against the dock, shimmery as silk. The sound was gentle, and something about it soothed her—made the jitteriness melt away.
She headed for the steps that led to the dock and was halfway down when she heard Hudson’s boots behind her. She kept moving and hopped onto the dock, walking to the edge so that nothing obscured her view of the water.
Her breath vaporized on the breeze, and she knew when Hudson stopped—she felt him inches from her back. Right then, a need so strong rolled through her that Rebecca almost leaned back, wanting the feel of his arms around her. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, listening to the gentle waves, letting the sound wash over her.
After a while, she was able to breathe easier.
“Do you remember the first time I brought you here?” His voice was low, husky, and intimate. It rolled over Rebecca like warm spiced whiskey. And along with it, so many memories.
She nodded and whispered, “Yes.” A smile touched her face. “I was terrified.”
“Terrified?” Hudson moved to the side. She felt his eyes on her. “Why?”
She glanced up at him. “You were Hudson Blackwell, and I was just…” Her gaze fell away. “I was Rebecca Draper. You lived here on the lake, and I lived in a little house off Burwick Street, filled with a bunch of kids, a mother who acted like a Stepford wife most of the time, and a drunk father who was mean as hell.”
“I’m sorry. I never knew how bad it was. Not until a few years ago when I was home and heard Ben had beaten your mother so badly, she was in the hospital for over a week.” His voice caught. “If I’d known…”
“If you’d known?” She cut him off sharply and took another step toward the edge of the dock.
“I would have done something about it.”
Rebecca sighed and shook her head. “There was nothing anyone could do. Kind of hard when your mom is in denial and your dad looks like freaking Brad Pitt. He was the most charming man in Crystal Lake. Hell, probably the entire state of Michigan. No one stood a chance when he leveled those eyes of his on them. And the line of bull he came up with to explain shit? He should have been a writer. He was that creative.”
Silence fell between them again, but it wasn’t a comfortable sort of thing. Rebecca felt the tension like a band of steel coiled around her midsection. She shook out her arms, and they fell loosely to her sides. A splash sounded on her right, and she wondered what animal had decided to venture into the cold water.
“You took me out on Glory.”
“What?” He took a step closer to her.
“Your boat,” she replied softly, glanced over to him. “Glory.”
Hudson nodded. “It was hot as hell. The sun was a bitch, and there was no breeze.” He chuckled. “I couldn’t wait to get you alone. Couldn’t wait for you to ditch your shorts and T-shirt and let me see you in that white bikini.”
“Didn’t take long.”
“No,” Hudson said quietly. “It didn’t.”
God, he’d been so handsome. A young man on the cusp of adulthood—one whose dark good looks and confident personality made him one of the most sought-after boys in town. His height made him appear older, but it was the breadth of his shoulders, the fact that he’d already begun to fill them out that made him irresistible. Not only to the girls Rebecca’s age, but the older ones as well. That summer they met, he’d been dating a girl named Amber, and she’d been almost twenty.
“We ran out of gas,” she said, eyes on the horizon, there where the lake met the tree line.
“That’s right.”
“And you forgot to put oars in the boat.”
“We were holed up in the cove just past Moody’s Point. Which was fine with me. It was the best make-out place on the lake. Stole my first kiss from you there.”
Rebecca didn’t reply. Her mind was filled with images. He’d backed her against the side of the boat, wrapped his hands into the tangle of wet hair at her neck, and kissed her. She remembered how soft and hesitant his touch was, as if waiting for her to give him permission to be more aggressive.
Which she’d done without much of a fight.
It was the first time she’d let anyone take her top off. The first time she’d ever slid her young body along a bare-chested boy, one whose touch set her skin on fire. Her heart hurt. Remembering was painful sometimes.
“I had to swim over to the DeLucas’ cottage to get gas, and it was near dark by the time I got back to you.”
“Yeah. I got home late. Dad wasn’t happy.”
“Becca.” Hudson reached for her, but she sidestepped with a shrug.
“It’s a long time gone, Hudson. No use thinking about it now.” She was shivering again, and her teeth chattered as a violent shudder hit.
“Let’s go inside. I’ll make you tea.” His eyebrows shot up. “You still like tea, don’t you?”
“I do.”
He stood aside and indicated he’d follow her back up the steps. The entire way, she felt the weight of his gaze on her. And by the time she reached the house and he let them inside, her body tingled with an awareness. She knew being here wasn’t a good idea. She should go home.
But she didn’t.
“Wow.” Rebecca turned in a full circle. “Darlene must have been given the platinum card and told to use it.” The main level had been thoroughly updated since she’d last been here. She followed Hudson into the kitchen. It opened to the great room, and he flicked a switch that ignited the gas fireplace.
“My room is still the same. Hell, even my sporting trophies are still up on the shelves. Diplomas. Artwork.”
“What about that stupid goalie helmet?”
“Yep. Still hanging in the same spot.”
“Really?” For the first time, Rebecca laughed. “I hated that thing. It hung from the ceiling over your bed, and every time we were in there, I felt like Jason from Friday the Thirteenth was staring at me.”
“Hey, that guy put Crystal Lake on the map.”
“Whatever. It’s creepy.”
“I guess seventeen-year-old me thought it was cool,” Hudson
replied. “And if the thought of him made you want to snuggle some more, I was totally fine with that.”
Rebecca slid onto a stool and waited for the water to boil. Once done, Hudson handed her a cup of tea, and she sipped it while he grabbed himself a beer and claimed the stool beside her. For the longest time, there were no more words, but she felt them. They were just beneath the surface. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to hear them.
After a few more minutes, Hudson set his beer down onto the counter and turned to her. His face was serious, and his dark eyes claimed hers with an intensity that matched the pounding heart inside her—the one that suddenly took off like a jackhammer.
“About that night,” he said, clearing his throat. “That last night. The night I left Crystal Lake. I want to tell you what happened.”
Something broke apart inside Rebecca. It burst wide open and disintegrated into nothing. It was painful and then…not, like an awakening. Slowly, she shook her head. In that moment, she realized a few things, and sat a bit straighter.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“What?” He looked confused. She got it, because she didn’t exactly know where she was going with this.
“It’s the past, Hudson. It’s done.” She had to wait a bit, the emotion inside her was that strong. “It’s over. The weight of the past is unbearable. It’s so heavy that it makes it impossible to live. I’m sick of that weight.” She exhaled and looked away.
“I’m sick of trying to live a life that’s weighed down by the sins of my past. By the mistakes I’ve made and the choices that followed. I’m done giving the past that much power over my future.” When she glanced back at him, the look in his eyes made her mouth go dry.
“So where does that leave us?” he asked.
Rebecca slid off the stool and slowly pushed it back into place. “I don’t know you anymore, Hudson, and you don’t know me. Not really. You’ve lived a life for over twelve years that I know nothing about, and I…”
How much was she willing to share?
“I’ve had a child and been married to a man I didn’t love. A man who made things…difficult.”
“What do you mean by that?” He stepped closer, the look in his eyes intense.
“It doesn’t matter what that means. What matters is that the last twelve years have changed us. We’re not the same kids we were. We’re not even close.” She paused. “We can be friends. Old friends who get to know each other again.”
Rebecca stepped away and headed for the front door. She reached for the handle and froze at the sound of his voice.
“I don’t know if I can just be friends.”
“It’s all I’m willing to give you, Hudson.” A pause. “It’s all I can give you.”
Rebecca slipped outside and shut the door behind her. She didn’t wait but ran down the stone steps and didn’t stop until she reached her car. She fired up the engine and turned the vehicle around. Just as she began the trek down the long driveway, she glanced into her rearview mirror.
He watched her from the front window. And something about that solitary figure made her sad. And angry. Conflicted. She eased up on the gas pedal as she approached the road and, with a lot of effort, let go of it all.
She settled back in her seat and headed for home.
Chapter 19
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
The sun was just coming up over the lake, and frost touched the ground, turning the still-green grass to a silver hue that sparkled. Hudson zipped up his jacket and yanked down on his cap before turning to Nash. He’d slept like shit and had been up for hours. After thinking hard about a few things, he’d stopped by his friend’s place to grab some tools before heading to town. Before heading to Rebecca.
It was brisk, the temperature not much above freezing, yet Nash stood in nothing but his boxers and an old pair of rubber boots. His hair was a mess, and by the looks of the red marks on his shoulders and the scratches across his chest, Hudson was guessing he wasn’t alone.
Ignoring his pal’s question, Hudson nodded to the house. “How in hell did you manage to pick up a lady when you were at Mackenzie’s last night?”
“That’s privileged information.”
“Don’t give me that crap. Did you go out?”
Nash snorted. “You and Rebecca killed the mood with your disappearance. Christ, couldn’t get two words out of Mackenzie.” He frowned. “That guy doesn’t like you.”
“No shit.”
“Well. At least you didn’t pull your disappearance until after I had my cigar. He had a box of Romeos.”
“Good to hear. So. Coach House?”
“Where else.”
“Shelli?”
Nash smiled. “Who else?”
Hudson shook his head. “Some things never change.”
“True. But I gotta say she was pretty damn entertaining last night.” Nash rolled his shoulders and grinned. “I should get back to it.”
“Thanks for the ladder. I have no idea where ours disappeared to.”
“Just don’t fall off the damn thing.” Nash stepped back toward his house. “Hey. You never answered my question.”
Hudson opened the truck door. “What was that?”
“You and Rebecca. Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“We’re doing the friend thing. That’s all. What can go wrong?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure her definition of friend isn’t exactly what you have in mind.”
“Jesus, Nash.” Hudson’s eyes narrowed. “You’re making me sound like a cold bastard with only one thing on his mind.”
“Look. She’s…” Nash went all quiet on him. “Be careful with her, Hudsy.”
Hudson scowled, his good mood all but gone.
“I’m serious. She’s strong like Superman, but you’re her kryptonite. You always were.” There was a warning underlying Nash’s words, a warning Hudson didn’t exactly appreciate. What the hell did Nash think he was going to do? Hudson would never hurt Rebecca.
But he had.
With that sobering thought, he climbed into his rig. By the time he got to town, the sun had nearly climbed to its perch in the sky, and the fall colors were a sight to behold. He pulled into Rebecca’s driveway, cut the engine, and sat there for a good ten minutes, trying to decide if he should get out or head back home. In the end, he thought, screw it, and climbed from his truck, grabbing the ladder and a pair of work gloves before he headed to the back of her house.
It was early, barely seven in the morning, and he knew she was most likely sleeping. So, without bothering to knock on the door and letting her know he was there, Hudson got to work. He’d noticed her eaves needed clearing the week before and set about getting it done.
That was what friends did. They helped each other out.
Hudson started at the back of the house, and by the time he reached the front, he was sweating like a son of a bitch. He yanked off his jacket, tossed his hat, and was just about to climb back up the ladder when a blond head poked out the front door. Liam’s eyes widened as he stepped onto the porch, a glass of milk in one hand, a piece of toast in the other.
“Morning,” Hudson said with a wave.
“Hey.”
“That peanut butter?”
Liam nodded. “Yep. Coach says I need protein before a game.”
“Ah. Smart man.” Hudson stepped up a rung. “Hockey?”
“Uh-huh.” Liam chewed off a corner of his slice of toast. Once he swallowed, he gulped down a swig of milk. “What are you doing up there?”
“I’m cleaning all the dead leaves and gunk that’s collected in your mom’s eaves.”
“Oh.” The boy frowned. “Why?”
“Because if they’re full, they can’t drain properly.”
Liam frowned, and his eyes followed the eave trough across the roof and down the side of the house. He seemed to be considering the situation. “That would be bad for the basement. The water would collect there if it just came ov
er the top.”
Surprised, Hudson smiled. “You catch on quick, kid.”
“My uncle is an architect, and I helped him this summer at one of his job sites. I want to be one when I grow up.” He shoved the rest of his toast in his mouth, and Hudson could barely understand him when he spoke. “But why are you cleaning my mom’s eave trough? Did she ask you to?”
“No.” Hudson climbed up another few rungs until he was level with the eave. “I’m just helping her out.”
“Why?”
Jesus, the kid asked a lot of questions.
“Because your mom and I are friends. And that’s what friends do for each other. They help out.”
Liam scratched his head and frowned. “Are you her boyfriend?”
Shit. He was going there?
Just then, the door opened, and he was saved from answering. “Liam! Who are you talking to? Your hockey stuff is in the garage, and you need to get it into the car right now, or we’re going to be late. And the last time you were late, Mackenzie gave me an earful.” Her voice trailed off, and damn if meeting her eyes wasn’t like a clobber over the head.
Unlike him, she looked as if she’d slept just fine. Her eyes were round and shiny, those cheeks of hers a soft pink. And her mouth, well, hell, she’d taken the time to put on some pale gloss, which emphasized the generous, round curve to the bottom lip. Dressed in a baby-blue turtleneck, faded jeans tucked into aged brown leather boots, and her hair falling in soft waves halfway down her back, she was a sight for sore eyes.
And his eyes were sore. On account of the no-sleeping thing.
“Hey, Becs,” he said slowly, not wanting to spook her. Because she looked more than a little spooked. In fact, if he were to guess, he’d say she was more than a little pissed, something he hadn’t considered. “You’re wondering what I’m doing up here.”
“I…” She pursed her lips in that way that told him he was in for it, and then turned to her son. “Liam, get your hockey stuff into the car. We need to leave.”
You Make Me Weak (The Blackwells of Crystal Lake Book 1) Page 13
