Here's To Box Set (Complete Series)

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Here's To Box Set (Complete Series) Page 57

by Teagan Hunter


  I feel this sorely missed flutter in my chest at his words. Because that’s something Hudson’s said to me before. His forever. And I want to be that more than anything.

  “Rae!”

  Joey launches herself at me, wrapping her small arms around my middle instantly. I return the hug with equal ferocity. I’ve missed this kid so much. I want to kick myself right in the ass for walking away from her while Hudson and I try to work this out, but I need my space. Just sucks that space away from him had to mean space away from the little girl who’s felt like a daughter to me for the last year.

  Pulling her away, I hold her at arm’s length, glancing her over. I swear she’s grown at least two inches since that last time I saw her eight days ago.

  Eight days? Has it already been that long? Fuck.

  “How you doin’, kiddo?”

  “Good. Dad says he misses you.”

  I blink back the instant tears and nod. “I know, bug. I miss him too.”

  “When are you coming home?”

  I open my mouth and close it again, struggling to find an appropriate answer.

  “Joey Tamell! What did I tell you about asking her that? That’s impolite,” Elle scolds as she comes around the corner, stepping into the small entryway. She smiles at me, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Rae.” She enfolds me in the warmest hug I’ve had in days. “I’ve missed you, girl.”

  “I’ve missed you too, Elle.”

  She wipes at her eyes when she pulls away. “Sorry, sorry. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry when I saw you, but I can’t help it.”

  “Trust me, I’ve been telling myself that same thing all morning.”

  She laughs lightly. “Well, come on in, dear. I’ve made us some sandwiches. We can eat lunch with Joey and then maybe talk.”

  Elle doesn’t give me the chance to respond that I’m not hungry. Instead, she ushers me into the kitchen, Joe hot on our heels.

  “Turkey’s fine, right?”

  “Yes, thank you. You didn’t have to make lunch. I haven’t had much of an appetite lately, but this thing looks damn good.”

  “A quarter!” Joey says, sticking her hand out for my swear jar payment.

  “Just a quarter? I thought it was seventy-five cents now.”

  She wrinkles her pert little nose at me. “You want to pay more?”

  Laughing, I shake my head. “No way. But I don’t feel right getting special treatment either.”

  She shrugs. “Dad says you’re sad. I don’t like that, so I thought I’d cut you a deal.”

  The smile falls off my face rather quickly. Has Hudson been talking about me? How much does Joey know about what’s been going on?

  “Ya know, how about you go ahead and take your sandwich into the living room, Bug. You can watch some Adventure Time while you eat,” Elle offers, sensing my unease.

  “Okay!” Joey grabs her plate and cup of juice, scurrying out of the kitchen in a flash.

  I take a bite of my lunch, ignoring the stare I feel from Elle.

  “She doesn’t understand what’s going on. And Hudson hasn’t said anything to her. In fact, she’s been staying over here for the last few days. A mini-vacation, if you will.”

  I peel my eyes from the worn out spot on the kitchen table I was gazing at, meeting her clear blue eyes.

  “I was worried he’d brought her into this.”

  She frowns. “He’d never do that, Rae. You know him better than that.”

  “I thought I knew him, Elle. I don’t feel like I do anymore.” The last part comes out a choked whisper, and she reaches her hand over to soothe me. “Almost a year. That’s how long he’s been lying to me. Almost our entire relationship. How do I trust that?”

  Her eyes grow soft and sympathetic. “I can be frank with you, yes?” I nod immediately. “You’re like a daughter to me, Rae, so I say this with love… So what?”

  My mouth drops open. So what? He lied! That’s what! I’m getting ready to say just that when she holds her hand up.

  “Hear me out, okay? I know my son. You know my son. He wouldn’t have had secret meetings with your father if he didn’t have a damn good reason to do so. That’s not him. Think about it from his side, Rae. He’s a father. Do you think he’d want Joey to cut off contact with him for trying to protect her? Not that I’m saying what Ted did was okay, because honestly, I’m a little pissed off at him myself for it, but I don’t think you’re seeing this from their perspective at all.”

  I chew on my lip, trying to do just that. My father didn’t directly lie about what happened with my mother. I’ve always known she committed suicide. The only thing he did was not confirm whether or not my drowning night after night was a nightmare or a memory. I also never asked. Hell, he put me in therapy to help cope with it, but even my own mind blocked me from the pain. That had to mean something.

  In all honesty, I know I’d have eventually forgiven my father for not being straightforward with me. Because I can see his side of things. I just still needed some time, needed space to figure out how I’d apologize for blocking him out of my life after he’d done so much to protect me. And to figure out how I was going to let him back in. I just needed time. It hurts that Hudson didn’t let me have it.

  But…that’s something else entirely. Hudson and his lies. I can’t justify those. He should have been honest with me, especially after what I’d just discovered about my father and his inability to fully tell the truth. But he wasn’t. He snuck around and hid things from me. He formed a friendship with my father, something I didn’t have anymore. That hurt too.

  Admittedly, I can see where Hudson’s coming from as well. His desire to keep some sort of thread between my father and me is somewhat admirable. I know I was stretching and dragging that tiny piece of thread out dramatically, and I’m sure my father wasn’t innocent in begging for information either. That had to be slowly eating at him. The problem here is his lack of honesty. I thought we were better than keeping shit from each other, especially heavy issues like that. And now I’m questioning everything. It makes me feel sick that he could so easily hide something so big from me.

  I clutch my stomach like I could physically get ill at any moment.

  “It’s not all black and white, huh?”

  Elle’s voice drags my eyes upward. “It never was. That’s the problem.”

  “I don’t envy you, Rae. I don’t blame you for being upset. Hell, I’m upset. But I’m also a little disappointed that you’re fighting trying to understand so hard. Hudson doesn’t deserve that. Joey doesn’t deserve that. And neither do you.”

  “I also don’t deserve lies.”

  She sighs. “No, but you do deserve a man that’s willing to protect you and take care of you at all costs, no matter the risks. You have that.”

  I did.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t think in past tense.”

  “How did you…”

  Her shoulders lift slightly. “It’s a mom thing.”

  I laugh and it seems to shake the heavy fog of sadness that’s hanging around. The room feels lighter and so do I. A little.

  “Thank you, Elle. I… Just thank you.”

  She smiles warmly at me. “All I want is for you to be happy, Rae. I’ve grown fond of you over this past year. Your happiness means something to me now.” A hint of sadness creeps into her eyes. “And even if that means not being with my son anymore, that’s okay. No matter what you decide, I’ll always be here for you.”

  Startling both of us, I jump out of my chair and throw my arms around her neck, hugging her close and tight.

  “I wish some days you were my mom,” I quietly admit, pulling away from her.

  She laughs and pats my cheek. “That would be very awkward, darling. I’m secretly hoping you’re going to stay with my son and that’s just not something I can condone.”

  I stayed at Elle’s for a couple hours, laughing and catching up with Joey. We played two board games and watched a few cartoons. Having her around help
ed heal me a little. It felt natural, normal. I missed it. I missed the role of parent, our story times and movie parties. Our…

  Who am I kidding? I miss Hudson. I miss Joey. I miss my fucking family.

  Plopping down on a rock sitting just on the edge of Lake Quannapowitt, I pull my phone from my pocket. Flipping it between my hands, I contemplate calling Hudson. I want to talk to him, to hear his voice, to tell him I still love him. But I’m scared to because I am still upset. Even though Elle gave me some more insight into things today, I’m still holding on to some anger. Or something that closely resembles it.

  I still feel…off.

  Rather than calling him, I decide on sending a text. I flip my phone over just in time to hear a masculine and sexy voice say, “Hello?”

  I freeze. It’s the exact voice I’ve been wanting to hear, and it sends chills down my spine. Just that one single word conjures up all my repressed desires. I can feel my nipples harden into little pebbles and that old familiar stirring happens. God I fucking miss him. His smile, his laughter, his voice, his touch—all of it.

  “Hello? Rae?”

  I pull myself out of the daze I’m in, lifting the phone to my ear. I can hear him breathing on the other end.

  “Rae? Are you there?”

  I don’t answer. I’m not ready to.

  “Shit.” He sighs. “I know you’re there. I…fuck.” I can picture him sitting behind his office desk, lowering his head, his biceps bulging as he nervously squeezes the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Rae,” he whispers hoarsely. “So fucking sorry. I love you. I miss you. God I fucking miss you.”

  I smile at his use of the same words I was just thinking. I like that our connection is so strong even when we’re so far apart.

  “Rae, you have to know that I only went to see him at first because I knew you wouldn’t but wanted to.”

  At first? What the hell does that mean?

  “I did it for you. I didn’t mean to lie about it for so long. It just grew into something that I knew you wouldn’t understand at the time. So I didn’t tell you. But…I regret that now. And I’m…I’m sorry. Fuck!”

  He shouts the curse word, the voice inside my head shouting it along with him. After talking with Elle today, I’m starting to understand his side of things more. I get why he hid it for so long. If he’d have come home after his first visit, so soon after everything happened, I’d have flipped out. We’d have fought like crazy and I’m not sure we’d have recovered at the time. I was in such a sensitive state emotionally that I don’t think I would have reacted rationally. Not that what happened when he confessed was rational, but the amount of time that’s passed with his lies justified that reaction. At least to me.

  But now I need to know just exactly what’s happened with my dad this past year. I need to know everything he’s told him, to know how many of my secrets have been shared. And I need to know what drove him to keep hiding things from me.

  “Can we talk?” he asks quietly. “And I don’t just mean hang out in the silence like this but really talk? Please?”

  I’m not ready for that.

  “You’re not ready for that, I get it.” The way he knows me amazes me. “So we can text. Please. It’s better than nothing at this point.” I hear a faint knock on the other end, one of his employees probably. “Shit. I’ve got to go.” A pause. “Just…text me. Okay? I want to hear from you.” Another pause. “I love you. I miss you.”

  The line goes dead.

  I slowly pull the phone away from my ear, staring down at the black screen. What do I do with that? With the turmoil I hear in his voice? He sounds as miserable as I do. He sounds…broken.

  Before I can stop myself, I shoot off a text to him.

  Me: What’s your favorite animal?

  10

  Hudson

  The smile that crosses my face is instant. She’s playing our game, Five. You can bet your sweet ass I’ll play right back.

  Me: An otter. What’s your best kept secret?

  I know I’m playing with fire sending that question, but it’s the first thing I thought of.

  Rae: I drink from the jug of orange juice all the time. And I yell at anyone else that does it because it’s MY orange juice. What’s yours?

  Me: I ate the yellow snow one time.

  Rae: OMG. How old were you?

  Me: I was four. Or six. Same difference. (Counting this as a question.)

  Rae: I never want to kiss you again.

  That’s a damn lie.

  Me: What’s a lie you just told?

  Rae: I never want to kiss you again.

  Me: What’s your favorite quote? Mine is “Fuck bitches, get money.”

  Rae: Liar. “Crap has always happened, crap is happening, and crap will continue to happen.” What’s really yours?

  Me: Don’t have one. Who said that?

  Rae: I’m counting this as one of the five. Chuck Palahniuk.

  Smartass.

  Me: Was that you who called?

  Two minutes—I count—go by before she answers.

  Rae: Yes. Wouldn’t it suck if it wasn’t?

  Me: I’m glad I didn’t mention the time I ate the yellow snow when I was sixteen, then…

  Rae: OMG. Are you joking?

  Me: Sorry, out of questions.

  Rae: HUDSON!

  Me: RAE!

  Me: I love you.

  Rae: I know.

  I stare at my phone for minutes, waiting for another reply, needing another reply.

  I don’t get one.

  “Who the fuck just killed a kitten? You look depressed, man.”

  I didn’t even notice Gaige walk into my office. Partially because the door was open from when Liam popped his head in a few minutes ago, and also because I was so consumed by my little text exchange with Rae. Or her lack of real response. Whatever.

  “Hey, man.”

  He raises a brow at me, folding his arms over his chest. “What’s going on?”

  “I was just texting Rae.”

  “Like, as in she participated too?”

  “Yep. Full blown conversation. We…we did Five.” I can’t stop the twitch to my lips just thinking of us going back to our roots, playing that silly five-question game in the beginning of our relationship.

  Gaige’s eyes go wide, catching the significance. “Five? But that’s awesome! Why do you look sad?”

  “I told her I loved her.”

  “Okay…”

  “She said, ‘I know.’”

  His lips slam into a flat line in a nanosecond, his hands finding his hips. He stands there, looking deep in thought. Or constipated. I’m not sure which.

  “Well, good.”

  I throw my arms up. “What the fuck do you mean ‘good’? How is that good?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t see how it’s bad.”

  “It’s not even a real damn response!”

  Again with the fucking shrug. “But it’s some sort of response. Better than radio silence.”

  Throwing myself back in the chair dramatically, I sigh. “How the fuck do women even like you? You’re like this giant bag of…dicks.”

  “Did you just call me a bag of dicks?”

  “Don’t be one.”

  “Because I said it’s good she’s even responding to you? Are you hearing yourself? Wait. Are you going crazy? You’re not making any sense.”

  “You’re not sense!”

  Lifting his hands like he’s Chris fucking Pratt warding off those ferocious little velociraptors, he says, “Right. Let’s pretend you didn’t just fly off the handle and move on, huh?”

  I glare at him.

  “Right,” he repeats. “You want to go to Clyde’s tonight? I know Joe’s still at Elle’s, so I’d figured I’d invite ya out. Just eat some grub, grab a few beers, maybe watch a game or some shit.”

  “No.”

  “Want to just get rip-roaring drunk?”

  “Yes.”

  It feels like my head is Santa’s wo
rkshop and a dozen or so little elves are making about a hundred toys per minute.

  Getting drunk sucks.

  Lie.

  Getting drunk is fun. It’s the hangover that sucks.

  Gaige and I decided getting drunk was something that “needed” to happen. So we did. Or I did. He stayed sober. All I remember is going to Clyde’s, eating a basket of fries, doing five shots of Patrón, guzzling down three beers, and then washing that all down with two shots of Jameson. And we were only there an hour. Yeah, I was begging for this fucking hangover.

  Gaige drove me home—but not before I puked down the side of my car out the window—tucked me into bed, and left me to my own devices after he made sure I wasn’t going to swallow my own barf in my sleep.

  Such a good friend. (Note the sarcasm there.)

  “Knock, knock!” Liam hollers, walking right in my office. “You look like shit, boss.”

  I groan, holding my head in my hands. His voice sounds like someone took a pillowcase full of silverware and shook it up real fast. And I hate the sound of silverware clinking together.

  “Heard you got pretty wasted last night.”

  Peeking up at him, I glare but don’t answer.

  “Heard you even puked down the side of your car.”

  My stomach twists into knots at the thought and I press my hand to it, trying to hold back the vomit climbing its way up my throat.

  “Shit. Sorry. Anyway, your girl is here. Want me to send her back?”

  I spring out of my chair in an instant, the nausea hitting me so hard I reach for the trash can and actually do vomit this time.

  “Yeah, I’m out. I’ll give ya five and send her back,” he says, hightailing it out of the room.

  I empty my stomach, which turns out to be mostly liquid, starting to feel a little more like myself with every heave. Straightening back up, I wipe my mouth and look around for the extra bottle of mouthwash I stashed in here years ago. I take a swig, cringing at the stale taste. Swish, spit, repeat. I do a breath check and decide I’m good to go.

 

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