Finding My Reason

by Claudia Burgoa

  “Well,” I extend my hand to her, she accepts, and I grin my best smile, “I hope you’ll look me up when you get back.”

  She flashes me a gorgeous smile in return. “You’ll see me around.”

  I look at my watch and decide to enjoy the rest of the weekend with her. We’ll always have Aspen. I ask the waiter to charge our breakfast to my room, sign and head back upstairs.

  “As much as I’d like to join you.” She bites her lip.

  Please, don’t go, are the last coherent words I say before I let another kiss take me away to a land of make-believe where we fuse into one and remain that way for as long as we live.

  “Jade Noelle Vance.” The loud male voice shakes the floor. “Where the fuck have you been?”

  “Ben, keep your panties on,” she snaps, pushing me away.

  “Time to go home.” He serves me with a murderous glare.

  “Goodbye, Hudson Drago.” She waves at me.

  “Maybe in another lifetime, Princess,” I call after her.

  Maybe, she mouths, walking away.

  Chapter 6

  Hudson

  July 9th, 2003

  In the days following meeting Jade Vance, two things became certain to me. One, my life is incredibly boring in comparison to the fairy tales she had dreamed up. I’ve caught myself several times over the next few weeks drifting off into space at work, wondering where she was. What’s she doing? Is she happy or homesick?

  The second thing becomes increasingly clear the more I ponder why the fuck these questions mattered to me—I’m hopelessly strung out on a girl I barely know. The thought hits me harder than a bullet train on my bike ride home. Here I am, on one of the nicest days of summer. Snow hasn’t reared its ugly head in weeks, and the crisp mountain sky promises a summer of bliss. Exactly the scene that had first drawn me over a thousand miles away from my family. I have everything I ever wanted, and it doesn’t mean shit.

  Why? The answer comes when I stop my bike in front of my apartment building. I struggle to grab my keys from my knapsack. Before I can get to them, however, this bombshell comes through the door. Easily five foot eight, body and wardrobe ready for the gym with a face for the movies. She is also zoned out in her music. She nearly knocks me over when the door swings opened.

  “Oh my gosh,” her voice pipes much higher than I had expected. “I’m so sorry!”

  “It’s no trouble.” I restrain from rubbing the spot where she clocked my forehead.

  She examines me for a second time, presumably, she didn’t get a good look at the guy she hit the first time. This time around, her blue eyes light up. I swear she licks her lips a bit. Her smile is downright predatory.

  “Here.” She reaches for something in her jacket pocket, a business card. “I live on the sixth floor. Ring me up sometime for coffee or...whatever.”

  “Sure.” I shrug. Seems a little forward, but I am not one to deny a hot woman. “I’m Hudson, by the way.”

  “Adriana,” she introduces herself with a flirty smirk before continuing on her merry way.

  She sways her hips, straightens her back, and I imagine she’s trying to make sure I appreciate her behind just as I did her front. She has a nice ass, long legs, and any other time I’d be suggesting a different kind of exercise. But she’s not doing it for me. Not since the browned eyed girl came to my life. Thoughts of her invade my nights. The feel of her body against me, her soft moans as I thrusted deep inside her. But it wasn’t only the sex. It was her personality, the way she flipped her hair when she was nervous. When she wanted to make a point, she’d square her shoulders, standing tall. Looking bigger than life and fearless. She bit her lip when she wanted to say yes but worried about the outcome. Her passion. But she’s gone, and I need to move on. When I get back up to my apartment, I stare at the card for fucking forever. Adriana Larson. Event planner. I try to imagine her in my bed, or against the wall, but she’s not cutting it for me. What the fuck is happening? A couple of months ago I wouldn’t have hesitated to show her a good time. But the little numbers on her business card are just a reminder of something I was missing...or rather never had. Jade’s number.

  Fortunately for me, I have an in on finding it and at least talk to her.

  Instead of preparing myself something to eat, I text Brody.

  Me: What are you doing tonight?

  Brody: Not much. Want to come over and check out the new place?

  Me: On my way.

  Proud of my brilliant idea, I run downstairs and jump back on my bike.

  • • •

  After thirty minutes I am in front of what looks like a private oasis. Sitting on a huge lot in the heart of Cherry Hills Village—one of the most expensive neighborhoods in the Metro Denver Area—is my best friend’s new big house.

  “What do you think?” Brody clamors after he directs me into his four car garage. He and Claire purchased this home a week ago.

  “I think this house is five steps ahead of your current lifestyle,” I reply truthfully.

  Who pays a stratospheric amount of money for a piece of land when they are still paying their student loans?

  He waves me off. “Buy cheap, sell high. This place will be worth a fortune by the time the kids get kicked out.”

  “What? Did you knock her up already?” I gape.

  My friend makes a face and proceeds to laugh his ass off. “Nah, but you know how it goes. First comes love, then comes marriage...”

  “Then comes a hundred thousand dollars worth of debt and drool,” I mutter. He ignores me, signaling to follow him inside.

  We enter through the gourmet kitchen that reminds me of the restaurant I worked at during my senior year of high school. We continue through a bright hallway decorated with big litographies and a few family portraits and enter an elegant living room with dramatic high ceilings and a fireplace. The place is just as huge on the inside. Did they win the lottery or are they up to their elbows in debt? Claire’s lounging in the half unpacked living room, reading a book.

  “Hello, gorgeous.” I peck her on the cheek. Buttering her up before asking is probably my best bet.

  “What do you want, Hudson?” Her voice is distant, eyes never leaving the page.

  “What? I can’t say hello to my best friend’s wife with the respect and courtesy she deserves?”

  “Dude, your flattery is both weak and not gonna get you anywhere.” Brody comes over with a beer for each of us. “What do you want?”

  “Fine,” I concede. “I was wondering if I could get Jade’s number.”

  That catches Claire’s attention so fast; she nearly falls off the couch. “Really?” She doesn’t try to hide the smugness in her voice.

  I shrug indifferently. “She was fun. We had a fantastic time. I’d like to...”

  “Kiss her?” Brody bates.

  Among other things. “Continue a serendipitous and amicable acquaintanceship,” I correct him because there’s no way I can have her in my bed while she’s so far away.

  “Hudson.” My friend chuckles. “That’s bullshit, even for you.”

  “Now wait a minute.” Claire puts a finger to Brody’s lips, her eyes narrow at me. “If Hudson would like to get to know Jade better, it may be in our best interest. After all, she was the only one from my family willing to talk to him at the wedding.”

  Brody sighs. “True. All right, pal, but just an ‘acquaintanceship, capisce?”

  “And absolutely no toying with my baby cousin, understand?” Claire adds pointedly. Her glare is warning enough. “I hear even a stutter of your name from her lips, and there will be hell.”

  “Scouts honor.” I roll my eyes. “Besides, she’s a big girl. No one’s gonna make her do anything she doesn’t want.”

  Claire writes down the number on a piece of paper, handing it over to me. I try to play it as cool as possible. Unlike yesterday, I feel like I have the whole world in the palms of my hands.

  I don’t wait long to call her. Once I’m out of Bro
dy’s, I dial Jade’s number.

  “Hello?” The melodic voice I’ve been missing for more than a month answers after the third ring. The memories of our night together slam against my chest, as my heart beats faster and the twitch inside my pants brings my dick back to life.

  “Hey,” I whisper, wishing she was closer. Beneath me.

  “Ben?”

  “Ben?” Way to spoil the moment, babe.

  “I don’t sound like your brother,” I clarify, holding the phone closer to me and hoping she doesn’t hang up on me.

  “Hudson?” The disbelief in her voice makes my heart beat harder and faster. She remembers me. “This is a surprise.”

  “A good one, I hope.” Fuck, I sound like an idiot.

  “Of course. How are you?” she asks, excitement in her voice, and I match it.

  We don’t talk long because she’s waiting for Ben to call. I promise to call her the next day, but she asks me to call her Wednesday instead. Something about losing her charger in London and turning on her phone only when she’s expecting someone to call. But before I let her go, I ask her to give me her itinerary and the address of where she’ll be staying during the week.

  “What’s your email address?” she asks, and I give it to her. “I’ll email you my itinerary and the addresses later tonight. Take care, Hud.”

  “Stay safe, beautiful.”

  • • •

  Jade

  “He called me.”

  “What?” Libby matches my excitement. “Did you meet a hot stud like I ordered you to and he called you?”

  My best friend, confident and personal Jiminy Cricket is expecting to hear about my new crush. A hot French man with whom I’ll have hot, sweaty sex with and will erase the memory of Hudson Drago.

  “No—”

  “Hey, let me dial your number, so you don’t have to pay long distance charges.” She doesn’t wait for me to agree, but her call comes through only seconds after she hung up.

  “Your parents are still paying the phone bill?”

  “Yep,” she responds, and I can hear the smile in her voice. The evil smirk only Libby knows how to cover with honey. “Mom wants to keep tabs on me. Well, she can keep the record of just how many times I’m on the phone with you.”

  “Sorry. I wish I were there to help.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about,” she reminds me. “I have dealt with her control issues since forever. The difference is that now she pays the childcare for my daughter, her clothing, and my rent. Free money in exchange of dealing with the same hazel. Once I’m done with grad school I’ll ditch her. Tom graduates next year. He promised to start paying child support once he secured a job.”

  “But if I was there...”

  “You helped me plenty since Heather was born.” Her voice becomes urgent as if she wants to get pass this subject and into something easier to discuss. I can feel in my heart that she’s alone, and trying to deal with everything without stopping to ask for help. “Now, tell me who called.”

  “Hudson,” I humor her and don’t repeat my offer to head back to help her or remind her that she has my family to lean on. “The guy from Claire’s wedding.”

  “Forget him.” She lets out an exasperated breath. “You’re going to live on the other side of the world for years. Do you know how long is going to take him to forget you existed?”

  Libby is practical. She’s the yin to my yang. She's pragmatic. I’m passionate, a full time dreamer. Unlike me, she looks at facts, statistics. She makes logical decisions based on the analyses of the data she collects. Just like she did when she found herself pregnant at twenty. Why marry a guy she only dated a few times? Fought her parents, who insisted she married said guy. Tom the guy who knocked her up had agreed to do the right thing. Still, she said no. According to some social study, a marriage like that was already set up for failure.

  There for when I say: “But, Libby, there’s this longing that’s settles inside my heart when I remember our time together. I shiver while thinking about his arms holding me tight, pressing me against his body. Our conversations...” she simply can’t understand why I continue fantasizing about him when it clearly was a one-night stand.

  “There are rules to one-night stands, Jadey,” she begins her lecture. “You fuck each other, then forget each other. You told me the story, honey. He said: give me one night.”

  “He called me.” My tone is defensive. “The thing is, you don’t know Hudson.”

  “You don’t know him either, Jade,” she retorts. “It was sex. Great sex. Is there something about him that’s memorable?”

  I press my lips together, thinking about my night with Hudson. I remember how he looked like wearing his three-piece suit, and the cocky smile. Beneath that persona is a gentleman who misses his grandma, enjoys the mountains and kissed me as if he wanted to learn everything about me while telling me his deepest secrets. And today he called, and like an idiot who fears a heartbreak I made an excuse to get off the phone before I let the crush become something more. Much more.

  “It’s hard to explain, Lib,” I mumble, closing my eyes. “The way he made me feel from the moment I saw him and... the way he looked at me. As if I was everything. His entire world.”

  “As I said. That’s a massive case of infatuation that can be cured as soon as you stop fantasizing. Try sleeping with a new beau,” she repeats the same words she said before. “Though I’m surprised that he called you.”

  It’s not my imagination. I stroke my arm as the memories of his touch make me shiver. Despite the four weeks that have passed, I still feel connected to him. Emotionally connected. It was only a few conversations but...maybe she’s right. I’m making up a fantasy.

  “So what do I do, oh wise one?”

  “About?”

  “Should I answer the phone when he calls?” I look around my room searching for the answer. There’s nothing written on the sterile walls. “It doesn’t matter if we become long distance friends. You said it before. He’s going to find someone else. Who waits around for a stranger?”

  “Mommy,” I hear Heather’s little voice on the other side. “Can we have dinner now?”

  “How’s my girl?” I smile wondering how much she has grown and when will I see her again.

  “Missing her godmother,” Libby responds. “Smiling, brightening my days.”

  “Give her a big smooch,” I say. “Text me when we can connect online. I’d love to see her.”

  “I will. Stay safe, and don’t lose sleep for some fantasy you built inside your head.” She laughs.

  Libby insists I made eighty percent of the stuff that happened that night, and the other twenty percent is some kind of exaggeration. Was it? Should I just send him to voicemail the next time he calls?

  Chapter 7

  Jade

  September 19th, 2003

  “Hello,” I answer the phone.

  “Are you okay?” Hudson’s husky voice catches me off guard, as it travels through my ears, sending shivers down my body. Calm down, Jade. Maybe one day I’ll stop reacting to that low tone.

  “Well, hello to you too, sir,” I say, clamping my lips together as I wonder why he sounds so worried. “Of course I’m okay. Unless you are talking about my former roommate. An eight-legged exchange student who got acquainted with the sole of my sneaker after scaring the shit out of me.”

  “Be careful. I hear spiders are pretty dangerous in Australia,” he states the obvious. “But seriously, Jade. I called you yesterday—several times.”

  “I kept getting your voicemail,” he continues using a sharp tone. Why does he sound slightly upset? So what if I ignored his calls and didn’t respond to his texts or messages. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” I am now, I don’t add.

  “You don’t sound okay, princess,” his voice softens. “Want to tell me about it?”

  I shake my head. Then, adjust my pillow and lay back. “What’s up with you?”

  “Jade, I know your voice.
Something isn’t right. What happened?” He speaks slowly, explaining his urgency but keeping his voice low to avoid upsetting me. It surprises me how well we both know each other’s tones, speeds and.... “You homesick? Do you want to come back? There’s nothing wrong with transferring. We can find you a scholarship.”

  “That’s not exactly it,” I breathe the words out. “Mom called yesterday. We have this tradition every year...I’m adopted.”

  “Yes, you’ve told me before. What does that have to do with your sadness?” I rub my eyes, fighting the tears. “Let me help you. I can try to make it better.”

  I nod. Then chuckle because he can’t see me. “September eighteen is like my birthday.”

  “Yesterday was your birthday?” He sounds hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because it isn’t. I was a toddler when the police found me. Dirty, hungry and...scared.” I close my eyes as I try hard to find my happy place. I don’t remember much about my first few years of life. A psychologist once told me that I must have blocked out traumatic memories subconsciously. I try not to think too much about that, though. One time when I was older, Mom told me the police had found me, three-years-old, naked and starving before they sent me off to the first home. Even though I don’t remember any of that, the thought is permanently engrained in my head. It meshes well with what I do recall about that period of my life: fear, abandonment and crippling defeat. “September eighteen is when she found me. After many foster homes, I came to Mom.”

  He is quiet for a long time, and I wonder what he’s thinking.

  Instead of asking what he’s thinking I continue. “I remember I didn’t say much in those days after I was put into the system. I was three at the time, but I knew my way around a conversation when needed. But what was the point? I only asked for food and water when I really needed it. I was just so grateful to anyone who took me in; I didn’t want to be a nuisance to anyone. I found out later that, ironically, my silence had freaked out a few families.”