Second Chance Summer

  “I never thought I’d see that.”

  He drained the wine and shrugged. “Haven’t had a lot of cause for smiling since the accident.”

  “It’s not even that. I’ve known you since we were in diapers, and I’ve never seen you smile like this, Hud.”

  There was no good answer to that.

  She laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry the timing worked out like this and we had to call you home.”

  Covering her hand with his was automatic. “It’s fine.” It was probably for the best. He’d gotten in over his head. Another few days with her and he might’ve started considering something drastic, and that was just crazy. His family, his duty, were here.

  “When are you going to see her again?”

  There went that pang again. He’d give almost anything for another chance to hold her, to hear her laugh. But that wasn’t gonna happen. He’d made sure of that. “I’m not.”

  “What do you mean you’re not?”

  “I mean today’s the last day of camp. Everybody goes home tomorrow. She lives in Tennessee.” Or she’d be moving to California or Timbuktu. Somewhere that was far, far away from him. And after how he’d treated her, Hudson couldn’t blame her.

  “So? There’s this thing called a phone and modern transportation.”

  “Chattanooga isn’t exactly a hop, skip, and a jump, Rach. And I don’t have any of her contact information. Besides all that, she’s not going to want to see me again.”

  “Why not? It looks like she adores you. And that the feeling is mutual.”

  “We didn’t exactly part on great terms.”

  Rachel frowned. “Did she have some problem with you leaving early?”

  “She offered to come with me.” How many times in the past few days had he wished he’d taken her up on that offer? How many times had he wanted to reach for her, to feel her arms around him in that calm, quiet way she had?

  “Why didn’t she?”

  Hudson didn’t want to talk about this anymore. He started to rise, but Rachel tightened her grip on his arm.

  “Why didn’t she come, Hud?”

  “Because I shot her down.” Even as he’d done it, he’d felt like such an asshole.

  “Why?”

  “Because you don’t bring a woman you’ve known less than two weeks to your best friend’s funeral. And you sure as hell don’t flaunt her in front of his widow.” He shoved up and began to pace. “I had to shut things down. Things were getting too serious, and I can’t do serious.” Even if he could, he’d destroyed her trust in him, left her bleeding.

  Rachel stared at him, mouth agape. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You can’t do serious? Hudson, you’re one of the most committed people I know.”

  “It doesn’t change anything. My commitment has to be here. To you, to the family, to my company.”

  “This isn’t about me or your family or the company. The only thing you’re committed to is acting like you never got pulled out of that fire.”

  Hudson stopped dead. “Excuse me?”

  “I get that you’re grieving. That’s natural and proper. But John did not haul your ass out of that burning building so that you could curl up and pretend you died anyway. He hauled you out because he loved you. So you would live. This whole retreat from the world and everything good in it routine you’ve had going since the fire is an insult to John and a disservice to everything he stood for. He gave you a second chance at life. How dare you do anything but use it?”

  “Use it? What? I’m supposed to just go on, every day, like John’s death isn’t my fault?”

  “Yes, damn it. Because it wasn’t your fault.”

  “He died because he came after me. I don’t know how you can even look at me.”

  “If he hadn’t gone after you, he wouldn’t have been the man I loved from the time I was fourteen. He believed in the job, and I believed in him. We knew the risks. And yes, I lost the love of my life. But I don’t blame you for it. You need to stop blaming yourself.”

  Hudson didn’t know what that looked like and couldn’t understand how she could even think it. “How can you be so calm about this? We just put your husband in the ground this morning.”

  “Because I lost him three months ago. I knew it. The doctors knew it. Everyone knew it but you. You were the only one who expected he’d wake up.”

  “You just gave up?”

  “No. I hoped and prayed every day. But he couldn’t come back from that, and it was time for him to let go.” She came to him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. “Now it’s your turn. You have to let go of this half-life, Hud. You have to honor him by living.”

  He buried his face in her hair, barely able to speak past the pain in his chest. “I don’t know how.”

  Rachel pulled back to look into his face. “I think you know someone who can teach you.”

  Wasn’t that what Audrey had been doing the entire time at camp? Encouraging him to embrace life again? He’d done it for her. Now it was time to do it for himself.

  Even as he thought it, he remembered the look of devastation on her face. All that time spent protecting her from every imagined danger, and he’d deliberately, callously, hit her where he knew it would hurt the most. The back of Hudson’s neck got hot. “I was an asshole when I left.”

  “So, get your ass on the road and go apologize. You have one more night to make it right. Go make the most of it.”

  Hudson didn’t know if he could make it right. He didn’t know if she’d ever want to see him again. But he had to go and try to repair the damage he’d done to her and set the record straight.

  Chapter 14

  “It is the last night of camp. You are not spending it holed up in our cabin or the pottery studio.” Hands on hips, Sam glared at Audrey. “So, get dressed. Or don’t. I don’t actually care. But you’re going to that dance tonight if I have to get Charlie to toss you over his shoulder.”

  Audrey just arched a brow. “You’d really haul me to the boathouse in my bathrobe?”

  “In a New York minute.”

  Audrey knew she was just crazy enough to do it.

  Sam flopped down on the bed. “Honey, I know this whole trip didn’t turn out like you wanted, but you can’t let your last memory of camp be of moping around.”

  Audrey wanted to protest that she hadn’t been moping, but it would’ve been a lie. The truth was, all hurt aside, she missed Hudson. And she was worried about how he was coping with his friend’s death. Which was wasted emotion. He wasn’t a part of her life. Not in any permanent way. That was something she’d come to understand about camp flings—they were intense and glorious because of their brevity.

  Would things have been the same between them if there’d been no expiration date? If they’d just met again under circumstances where they could’ve taken their time, would their attraction still have happened? Or was it just the enforced proximity here at camp that had pulled him into her orbit? Given the hard-core case of survivor’s guilt he had going, she might have had the chance to give her thanks, but that would’ve been it. And she’d have been the poorer for it.

  “Please come tonight. At least for a little while.”

  Audrey didn’t want to go. Being around all those happy people, all that noise and boisterous enthusiasm made her want to burrow under the covers and sleep until morning, when they’d be boarding the bus to head back to New York and the airport. But given her luck, their companions on the bus would quiz her about who she was and why she’d been a hermit during camp. Or, worse, ask her what happened with the hottie firefighter who’d saved her ass from death by campfire that first week. Besides, she knew she’d dampened Sam’s own pleasure in the whole camp experience, and that really wasn’t fair. She’d used up her quota of lousy friend passes.

  “Okay. But if I’m going, then it’s not going to be in my bathrobe.”

  Sam grinned and gave a victory fist pump. “Dam
n straight. If you’re going, you might as well knock some socks off. Please let me do your hair and makeup.”

  Audrey arched a brow. “Are you about to be channeling your Miss Eden’s Ridge pageant days?”

  “Hush your mouth. I never did pageants. And anyway, didn’t you watch Miss Congeniality? They’re scholarship programs.” Sam rummaged around in her stuff and came up with at least four bottles of hair product and a curling iron.

  Audrey held up a hand. “I draw the line at hair tall enough to commune with God.”

  “Noted. Now go get in the shower.”

  She took her time, as much to let the hot water beat on her stiff muscles as to procrastinate facing the full contingent of beautification tools at Sam’s disposal. By the time she strode out, pleasantly pruney, Sam had a whole station set up. With the panache of a game show host, she waved Audrey to her seat.

  “Sit and let me work my magic.”

  Because it obviously made her friend happy to play stylist, Audrey sat.

  “I’m having potentially life-altering thoughts.”

  Sam’s hands paused, roller in hand. “About Hudson?”

  “Because of him. About my career, my research.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to do research anymore.”

  “I didn’t know what I wanted to do before. But I’m considering a change in focus. I want to start researching survivor guilt. I couldn’t help Hudson with his, but maybe I could discover something in my work that could help others like him.”

  Sam didn’t stop moving. “Can’t do that in Chattanooga. So, you’ve decided to take the job in Berkeley?”

  “It’s an amazing opportunity. The resources I’d have there are unparalleled. It’s got me really excited about getting back to my work.” She supposed she owed Hudson for that. It wasn’t what she’d wanted from him, but as a consolation prize, at least it was an opportunity to do something with true meaning. She needed that in her life now, more than ever.

  “I think it’s a good idea. But is Berkeley going to go for it?”

  “I’m flying out to discuss it with Dr. Feinstein almost as soon as we get home.”

  “Well, I wish you luck. Even though I’m going to miss you like crazy.”

  Audrey reached back to lay a hand on Sam’s arm. “I’m going to miss you, too. I’ll keep in touch.”

  “Damn straight. Now be still while I finish this.”

  Her hair was dried, smoothed, then set in loose waves.

  “Hate to tell you, but that’s going to fall out within five minutes of me stepping outside. My hair doesn’t hold curl.”

  “With this much product, I could get a two-by-four to curl. Now sit still while I do your makeup.”

  Like an obedient Barbie, Audrey didn’t move while Sam swiped, blended, brushed, accented and slicked. “Am I gonna look like a madam when you’re done with me?”

  “You’re going to look like you, just…more.” She finished with one more coat of mascara. “There! Take a look at that.”

  Audrey was glad she had to go into the bathroom for a mirror. It would give her time to put her poker face on before coming back out. But the face that stared back at her wasn’t that of a two-bit movie streetwalker. It was, as Sam had said, just her. Except her eyes were bigger, deeper and her cheekbones popped in a way that gave her face a subtle depth. Her lips were glossed a kissable pink. Not that anybody would be taking advantage of that. Still, she couldn’t help but be impressed.

  “Wow. You’re really good at this.”

  “I’m Southern. We’re trained in proper hair and makeup from the time we’re knee-high. Plus, my mama owns a salon. Now come back out and let’s pick your outfit.”

  “There’s not a lot to pick from. I’ve been in jeans and cargo pants all week.”

  “All the more reason to wear this.” Sam pulled a dress from her bag. Sleeveless, with a V-neck, it was deep blue, made of that stretchy stuff that never wrinkled. “You would look amazing in this.”

  She would show her legs in that. The skirt would hit her just below the knees. But Audrey’s knee-jerk refusal stalled somewhere on the tip of her tongue as she thought about Hudson’s ease with her scars. He’d never made a thing of them, never made her feel like a freak show. They were simply part of her. If he could accept that, maybe she could, too. Besides, the boat house would be pretty dim lighting.

  “Oh, why not?”

  By the time Charlie showed up half an hour later, Audrey had managed to unearth a little enthusiasm for the prospect of a dance. Courtesy of Sam’s ministrations, she did look good—a fact which Charlie underscored with mimed heart palpitations at the sight of her.

  “Hubba hubba!”

  Audrey laughed. “You are incorrigible.”

  “What I am is a lucky bastard to have two beautiful ladies to escort tonight.” He crooked both his arms. “Shall we?”

  Audrey and Sam slid their arms through his.

  Audrey stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for being a good friend, Charlie.”

  He covered her hand with his. “Anytime, beautiful. Let’s go paint the camp red!”

  ~*~

  The dance had already started by the time Hudson rolled back into Camp Firefly Falls. He could hear faint strains of the music thumping as he got out of his Jeep. Would Audrey be there, observing people or would she be off on her own somewhere, away from all the noise? She’d been all about the classic camp experience, and likely everyone was at the boathouse tonight. He trudged in that direction, with no better idea of what he’d say to make things right than he’d had when he left Syracuse two hours before. He’d had plenty of time to replay the scene in his cabin and realize exactly how badly he’d fucked up. He wasn’t sure there was an apology big enough to make up for that, but he was sure as hell gonna try.

  As it had that first night, the boathouse was jumping. Michael Tully was tending bar again. Though he viciously wanted a beer, Hudson bypassed Michael and wove his way around the edges of the crowd, looking for a familiar flash of red hair. He didn’t find her on the first pass. Surely, she hadn’t left camp early just because he’d been a dick. God, he hoped he hadn’t ruined that for her, too. He started to head to the pottery studio but took one last look out on the dance floor. And there she was, dancing with Charlie and Sam.

  She was wearing a dress. And damn, she was a total knockout with her hair and makeup all done up. He knew what it meant for her to show her legs, and for a moment, he was overcome with a fierce pride that she’d done it. It was different to see her all dressed up instead of in the casual camp clothes she’d worn the last couple of weeks—one of the many sides of her he hoped like hell he’d get a chance to see again after tonight.

  Locked in on his target, Hudson wove his way through the dancing crowd, rehearsing his apology. He hadn’t gotten much past the basic, I’m sorry before she caught sight of him. For a fleeting second, she lit up with pleasure, but by the time he made it to her, she’d locked down that reaction. Not a great reception, but the momentary light gave him hope.

  “Hi.” Brilliant opening, Lowell.

  For once, Charlie didn’t insert himself into the conversation. He just nodded before he and Sam dropped back, presumably to give them some privacy. But the pair of them stayed close.

  Audrey crossed her arms over her middle, her posture half-protective, half-defensive. “You came back.”

  “Yeah. I had to see you.”

  Over the sound system, Journey rolled into Thomas Rhett’s “Die A Happy Man.” Appropriate, if she’d forgive him. Hudson held out a hand. “Can I speak to you? Privately.”

  She hesitated only a second before placing her hand in his. Sam took a step forward, but Charlie put a restraining hand on her arm. Audrey looked to her friend and gave a tiny shake of her head. Message received. Audrey still trusted him, at least a little. Sam clearly did not.

  He wanted to wrap around Audrey, bury his face in her hair, and just hold her until his world right
ed again. But he’d walked away from the right to do that. So, Hudson led her outside to the pier instead. It seemed appropriate to have this conversation here, where it had all started. She’d been so hesitant that first time he saw her, when she’d followed him outside from the dance—so unsure of her reception. She wasn’t hesitant now. Her stride was confident, her back straight. This time he was the one who was uncertain.

  Except, no, he realized. That hadn’t been the first time he saw her. He’d seen her across the lake that first afternoon. Even from that distance, he’d felt her sense of absolute peace. Envied it. He’d had that with her, for a time, and then he’d destroyed everything.

  “I’m sorry.” He blurted it out, even knowing he was getting ahead of himself. “I know that doesn’t even begin to cover it. I was an asshole, and I hurt you.”

  “Hudson, I get it. You were grieving.”

  He didn’t deserve the understanding he saw in her face. “Don’t make excuses for me. There is no excuse for how I treated you. We both know why I did it, but I have to say it anyway.” He had to get this right. Had to fix what he’d broken. “You are the most compassionate person I have ever met. You completely overlooked the fact that I’m a surly, miserable bastard, and did everything you could to pull me out of the pit I’d fallen into. And you did it. You brought me back to life in a very real way. Then John died, and I just lost my shit.”

  “It’s okay. Really, I accept your apology.”

  “No. No, it’s not okay. You offered yourself up to help me, to support me, and I hit at you in the worst possible way. It’s not true. You don’t need rescuing all the time. You’ve been rescuing yourself perfectly well without me.” Hudson could feel himself losing control, hear the edge of it in his voice. Because he realized, standing here, seeing her again, exactly what it was he’d thrown away. He loved this woman, with her gigantic heart and fearless determination.

  He wanted to reach for her but didn’t dare. Everything in him felt taut as a bowstring, ready to snap in two. He’d lost Steve. He’d lost John. Hudson didn’t think he could bear losing Audrey, too.