He's completely closed himself off to everyone—denial and isolation my mom calls it—and though it hurts when he cringes under my consoling touch, or turns away from me when I try to talk to him, I don't begrudge him. Everyone copes in their own way, and right now, his defense mechanism is to put up a stone-clad wall. If all he can handle right now is holding my hand, I'll take it.
Pushing the food around on my plate, I pretend to eat, though my appetite is non-existent. All I really want right now is to curl up in my bed with a joint and Crew, and hopefully wake up from a long nap to find out this is all a terrible nightmare.
"Need to get outta here," he grumbles lowly in my ear, echoing my exact thoughts as he tugs my arm in the direction of the exit.
Without saying goodbye or telling anyone where we're going, we find our escape through the oversized wooden door, both of us sucking in deep breaths of the crisp, fresh air once we’re outside.
"Where do you want to go?" I ask timidly, feeling as if anything I say or do will cause him to retreat again.
"You got smoke in your room? I just want to be numb and forget everything. I'm not sure if Mom's staying here tonight," he tips his head toward the cabin he and Mary have stayed in the last couple of nights, "or at Luke's."
Nodding, I squeeze his hand supportively, pleased to have some sort of communication going with him. "Yeah, I’ve always got smoke. Come on."
Neither of us says another word as our boots eat up the frozen ground between the lodge and my house, nor do we speak when we strip out of our cold clothes behind my locked bedroom door, leaving me in my bra and panties and Crew in his boxers. Seeking something to mask the deafening silence, I connect my iPod to the speakers on my desk and choose full random shuffle before climbing onto my bed. I grab my cigarette case and lighter from inside the top drawer of my nightstand, then lean back against the headboard and exhale a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.
“What’s that?” he asks as he joins me atop the mattress, staring curiously at the decorative, stainless steel, rectangular case resting on my leg. “And what kind of flower is that on it?”
My gaze follows his down to one of my most treasured possessions, and I can’t help but smile a little bit when looking at it. “This is a cigarette case. It was my grandfather’s…one of the few personal belongings they sent home to Grams after he was killed in Vietnam,” I explain as I pick it up and open it for him, revealing the assortment of pre-rolled joints. “The flower is a sweet pea. It was his nickname for her when they were young, and it was a little keepsake he always took with him when he traveled overseas. She gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday, along with his zippo.” Pausing in the story, I lift up the lighter adorned with a voluptuous 1950’s pinup girl. “And according to Grams, she used to look just like this.” I chuckle softly.
“Wow, that’s cool as shit. Grams seems like she used to be a pretty badass lady,” he remarks while taking the lighter from my hands and examining it. There’s a genuine quality to his tone that relaxes some of the tension from my shoulders.
“Used to be?” I scoff teasingly. “You better not let her hear you say that.”
He laughs but doesn’t add anything else, so I use the lull in conversation to pull out one of the doobies and light it up. Then, as if someone cued up the music perfectly, the opening chords for The Weeknd’s High For This fill the room, the seductive notes swirling around the hazy smoke and serenading my ears. Perfect fucking song.
We sit shoulder-to-shoulder, our backs propped up with a multitude of pillows, and stare at the ceiling while smoking, both lost in our own thoughts. The joint gradually disappears between our fingers, and after I drop the smoldering roach into the ashtray, I’m anxious about what comes next. I want more than anything to reach out and touch him, to kiss him, to reassure him that I’m here for whatever he needs, but I’m hesitant he’ll deny me any of that. And on top of the hurt I’m already feeling over losing Caleb, I’m not sure how much rejection I can take right now.
“Hudson,” he whispers, the agony evident in his voice, “I need to lose myself in your body tonight…just raw physical distraction. It’s the only way I think I can stop my brain from these never-ending nightmares.” Taking my hand in his, he lifts it to his mouth and kisses my palm, my insides melting at his touch. “You’re the only thing that can save me from me right now.”
Rocking up to my knees, I crawl onto his lap and straddle his hips, my eyes locking directly onto his. I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra, freeing my breasts as I toss aside the silky fabric.
“Take what you need. I’m all yours.”
Rolling out of bed the next morning, I wince at the soreness between my legs. My poor vagina must think we’re training for the sex Olympics or something, and I’m pretty sure my pelvic bone is bruised. I know my nipples are.
When I told Crew to take what he needed, he didn’t waste a single second in flipping me over, face-down on the sheets, and plunging deep inside my core. Unlike our previous times together, there weren’t a lot of kisses or sweet, heartfelt moments, with the only exception of him mumbling something about his snow angel before I passed out on his chest from sheer exhaustion.
No, it was pure fucking, plain and simple. But if that’s what makes him feel better, or not feel at all, I’m happy to help. And I’ll do it again for as long as he needs me. That’s what you do for someone you lo—care a lot about.
Knowing he hasn’t slept much in the last few days, and the fact the sun hasn’t even made an appearance yet, I leave him asleep in my bed while I throw on some sweatpants and a hoodie for my morning responsibilities. Grams is coming out of the bathroom as I make my way down the hall, and the understanding smile she offers after glancing back and forth between my closed bedroom door and me—in which I’m sure I look stellar after last night’s activities—says everything.
She knows.
God, I hope she, or anyone else for that matter, hadn’t heard us. I’d turned the music up and tried to be quiet, and I know they probably assumed what was going on, but still…I’d be mortified if they listened.
Shaking her head, she pats my shoulder, silently assuring me everything is okay, then shuffles her feet back to her room. In the bathroom, I go through my regular routine of brushing my teeth, putting my hair up, and washing my face on autopilot, my mind still preoccupied with thoughts of Crew, Mary, my family, and where we all go from here.
The marijuana greenhouse is a much-needed escape from my overactive brain, allowing me an hour reprieve to focus on work that needs to be done. Watering and fertilizing, light adjusting and pruning, drying and curing, the steps have become second nature to me, and the meticulous, methodical nature of growing weed brings me almost as much enjoyment as smoking it does.
Once I’ve finished logging in my progress on all of my established plants, I move to the back corner of the grow room to examine my latest special project…a project I began working on a few weeks ago. A few tears trickle down my face as I take measurements and thoroughly inspect the leaves, sadness overwhelming me when I realize the person who inspired this endeavor will never be able to take advantage of it. The plant is a hybrid created by crossing two of my other favorite strains, specifically designed for people who suffer from migraines, nausea, and seizures. More specifically, people with epilepsy.
Breakfast drags on for what seems like forever. All I can think of is getting back to my room to make sure Crew is doing all right. I’m in the middle of cooking my last omelet before I shut the lodge kitchen down, when I’m interrupted by a knock on the wall. Turning around, I’m half expecting to see Crew himself, but instead, I find Mary leaning in the doorway, her eyes looking even more tired than they did yesterday.
“Hey, Mary.” I fake a smile, my voice overly chirpy. “Have you had breakfast yet?”
She pats her belly with an equally forced grin. “You know I don’t miss one of your breakfasts, Hudson,” she replies sincerely as she crosses the linoleum fl
oor toward me. “It’s my son I’m worried about not eating. I’m not sure he’s had a proper meal or bout of sleep since everything happened.”
“He did sleep last night; at least, he was out when I woke up this morning, but I’m not sure about food. I was planning on taking him some breakfast once I was finished up here.” I stop talking as I plate the ham, cheese, and egg concoction then return my gaze to her. “Have you talked to him this morning?”
She shakes her head sharply and looks down at the ground. “No, he’s refusing to talk to me right now. The only thing he’s said to me since the morning he found him was ‘I hope it was a damn good movie.’”
“Mary—” I reach out to touch her, to comfort her, but she holds her hands up in front of her.
“It’s okay. I understand he’s angry, and I don’t want to push him,” she asserts, though the emotions on her face don’t match the words coming out of her mouth. “This isn’t easy on any of us, you and your family included. I just wanted to let you know I talked to Mel and Doug this morning and thanked them for offering us the cabin the last few days. I know neither of us wants to go back to that apartment anytime soon—I’m not sure I’ll ever be—but we can’t stay here forever either. So, for now, I’m gonna stay at Luke’s apartment until I figure out what happens next, and Crew is gonna stay with you. If that’s okay?”
A little shocked, I nod my head and inhale a deep breath. “Yeah, of course, but are you sure?”
“Hudson, I realize you and Crew have only known each other for a little while, but I say this with the certainty only a mother can have about their child.” She places her hands on my shoulders and smiles a sad smile. “If there’s anyone who can save him from the hell he’s about to go through, it’s gonna be you. From the very beginning, the two of you have shared something special, something intangible…indescribable, and all I ask is that you try to hold on to that during the rocky times ahead. Please don’t give up on him.”
Jarring awake, I knife up in the bed, gasping for air as sweat beads across my forehead and my pounding heart threatens to crack every rib I have. Not knowing where I am, my eyes frantically sweep the surroundings, my mind stuck somewhere in the hazy area between unconscious and alert. Shadows bathe the room, created by the moonlight streaming through the window, and it's not until my gaze lands on the small, naked female figure next to me that I remember where I am.
Hudson's room.
The place I've been holed up for the last couple of days, only leaving to take care of business in the bathroom. The only place I don't have to see or talk to anyone except her. And although I hate her as much as I hate everyone else right now, at times even more than the others, inside of her is the only refuge I can find from this torturous hell I live in, an escape from the nightmare that doesn't stop even after I open my eyes. My darkness has no concept of time. It threatens to consume me every minute of every hour of every day.
As if she can hear my thoughts in her sleep, she rolls over on her side and presses her panty-less ass against my thigh. An invitation to block out the most recent reel of haunting images playing on a continuous loop in my head.
Lying back down, I grab my cock with one hand, stroking it from balls to tip several times until I'm hard, while I lick the other and lower it between her legs, smearing the moisture from my fingers against her bare lips. She stirs at my touch, her body stiffening momentarily then relaxing as I slip a finger inside her. I'm not sure if she's awake or dreaming, but I really don't fucking care either way. I need her, and she owes me. Unfortunately, it's a debt she can never repay.
I scoot down the mattress, lining the head of my cock up with her now slick entrance, and as I slam inside of her tight pussy, Caleb's lifeless body flashes behind my closed lids. Fuck. Pulling out almost all the way, I pound into her again, and then again, trying to block out the blood, so much blood. My fingers bite into her hips, digging with a force so great I'm afraid I could fracture the bone if I wanted to...and a small part of me kinda does.
She’s lying there silently. I don’t know what she’s feeling, what she’s thinking, but her wellbeing is the farthest thing from my mind. I drive harder and plunge deeper, punishing her for making me fall in love with her and blinding me to my responsibilities. Angrily squeezing my eyes tighter, I fuck her without restraint, chasing the few seconds of oblivion I so desperately crave.
As my release surges through me, I flex my hips one last time and bury my cock in her wet heat, losing myself in the overwhelming ecstasy. For a few short-lived minutes, life is good. I hold Hudson close to me and nestle my face against the back of her neck, softly kissing the smooth skin while whispering my appreciation for her taking care of me. But the light passes quickly, and the second our bodies are no longer connected, I'm lost to the bitter bleakness yet again.
I’m not sure how long Beckham’s been tapping on my car window, but based on the mixture of concern and frustration on his face, I’d guess for a while. After I pop the unlock switch on the door, I scrub my hands over my face, trying to scour away the daze I can’t seem to snap out of.
“Hey, you. I missed ya last week.” His eyes are filled with pity as he slides onto the passenger seat and gently pats the top of my hand. “Tasha told me about your boy’s brother. I’m really sorry to hear what happened. That’s terrible.”
“Yeah.” It’s the only word I can come up with. Really, what else is there to say? I don’t even have it in me to be irritated at the sound of the skank’s name. I’d just rather be numb.
He shifts his weight to better face me, his hand still softly stroking my wrist and forearm. The tender touch feels nice, quite the opposite of the treatment I’ve received from Crew this last week—which has either been nonexistent, or cold and callous—so I don’t bother stopping him. Losing Caleb, especially when I’d made healing him my top priority, has shredded me as well, and I understand Crew isn’t in the place to offer consoling, but I’ll take it where I can get it.
“Is there anything I can do for you? I’ll help in any way I can,” he offers, his tone heartfelt.
Shrugging my shoulders despondently, I pull a doobie out of the case and light it up. “Nah, not that I can think of, unless you can take my finals for me,” I reply wryly after exhaling a puff of smoke.
I pass him the joint as he chuckles under his breath, then watch as he takes a long drag. “I’m not sure I can pull that off, but I’ll be happy to help you study. When’s your first exam?”
“I’ve got algebra and chemistry next Monday, but I’m not too worried about those. My brain is math and science. I emailed my big Lit paper in last Monday, and as long as I make an A or B on it, I’m exempt,” I explain while we finish smoking inside my car. “My biggest concern is history next Friday. Missing a week of lecture in there is brutal, and the test is comprehensive, so I’ve got a ton of material to go through.”
“Who do you have? Langford?”
Sighing, I slump farther down in my seat. “Yeah, unfortunately. She’s a fuckin’ name, place, and date Nazi, and my mind just doesn’t work like that.”
“No kidding, I’ve got her too.” Cocking his brow up, his face brightens. “Hey, if you want to get together to study, I’m down. Just let me know what day works best for you.”
My first instinct is to jump at the chance, ‘cause I need all the help I can get, but before I agree, guilt carves through me, cutting the words off prior to them leaving my mouth. Crew made it very clear how he feels about me hanging out with Beckham, and with everything he’s dealing with, I don’t want to give him any reason to doubt me…or us. Actually, I’m not so sure he’d appreciate the conversation we’re having now, but I don’t want to be rude either.
“I’m not sure if I’ll get a chance to with everything going on, but if I do, I’ll let you know.”
Whether or not he hears the insincerity in my words, he doesn’t let on. “Sounds good. You know where to find me.” Glancing down at the clock on the console, he tilts his head outsid
e. “We should get going now, though. Ten minutes until class.”
I lean over the middle console and grab my backpack from the floorboard with an agreeing nod. “Let’s do this.”
As soon as I walk through my front door, Mel and Doug are waiting anxiously for me in the living room. With faint dark circles under their eyes and an unusual slump in their posture, I realize this week’s been incredibly tough for them too. A couple of nights ago, I’d even heard my mom sobbing into my dad’s chest, talking about how her life would be destroyed if she lost one of us. None of us are immune to the crushing sorrow Caleb’s death brought.
“Hey, sweetie,” Doug says, standing up from his brown leather recliner as I walk in the room.
Mel follows his lead; they both come over to hug me and kiss my cheek. “How was your day? Did you talk to all of your professors about your absences?” she asks.
“Yeah, I emailed them all last week,” I repeat what I already told them the other day. “They’d all seen the story on the news and were very understanding, but I’m still expected to be ready for finals next week.”
“Will you be ready?” my dad asks pointedly, never one to beat around the bush.
I nod reassuringly. “Yeah, I’ve just gotta get busy studying. My first exam is next Monday, and the last one is next Friday. Then, I’ll have a full week off before Christmas, and two weeks after for winter break.”
“Honey,” Mel begins, “Doug and I have been talking, and with everything you’ve got on your plate right now, we don’t want you to worry about the greenhouses or preparing breakfast until you’re finished with the semester. Between us and Grams, we can handle it and allow you as much studying time as possible.”
“It’s really not a big—”
My dad holds his hand up in the air to cut me off. “It’s non-negotiable, Hudson, and it is a big deal. We’re worried about you. You’re always so busy putting everyone else’s needs first that you tend to neglect your own, and as your parents, it’s our job to intervene when necessary. We understand and respect your feelings for Crew, and he’s more than welcome to stay with us for however long you want him to, but you’ve gotta take care of yourself too.