Page 65 of Hudson

“She wasn’t the one. Never was. As I said, we hooked up, went to a few parties with friends. Next thing I knew, she was pregnant with Harvey about three months after we started hanging out. It all happened pretty fast, and nothing was planned. Amanda was not in love with me either. We had a good time, got along well, but being together seriously and especially having a child together, none of that was what we wanted with the other,” he says, and my jealous feelings of his late wife all dissipate in an instant. But it doesn’t lessen how unfortunate the whole situation is, how badly I feel for her loss.

“I’m sorry. For both you and Harvey,” I say genuinely.

“Harvey doesn’t really know any different. It has always just been the two of us… until now.” He’s looking at me intently as our spare hands connect and our fingers intertwine.

“He is the sweetest boy. You have done a great job raising him,” I tell him honestly.

“Do you want kids?” he asks me, and I take a breath.

“Yeah. I do. I love them,” I say, and his smile widens, clearly happy with my answer.

“I have a question for you now.”

I settle back against his body and take another sip of my wine, feeling good about what we are and how we’re progressing.

“Sure. Anything,” I say, wanting to be as open with him as he is with me.

“Tell me about your time at college,” he says, and mywhole body stills. Fear ignites my blood, and my palms start to sweat. That is not what I was expecting. I thought he was going to ask more about my mom or even my upbringing with a single parent.

“I don’t want you to tell me anything you are not comfortable with, but the few times we have touched on it, I get the feeling it wasn’t the time of your life that you were expecting?” His hand rubs up and down my arm in a soothing motion. I swallow and nod, taking a steadying breath to calm my suddenly racing heart.

“I’ve never told anyone…” Sitting up again, I turn to look at him. I create a bit of distance, because I want to tell him; I just need to do it face-to-face. Again, his brow furrows, and I lean forward, putting my wineglass on the coffee table. I don’t know what he will think of me after I explain this. The professor always said I wasn’t to tell anyone, and I always blamed myself. Maybe Hudson will look at me differently. But Ineedto tell him. I firmly believe that for any close relationship to survive, you need honesty and openness. He just told me all about Amanda, so now I will do the same.

Hudson waits, his eyes searching my face, putting his glass down as well, obviously feeling the seriousness of this conversation. I clear my throat before I lay it all out there.

“The first few years were great. I met a couple of friends, had a few boyfriends. I mean, I studied hard and had a few part-time jobs to still help out Mom at home, but I guess it was exactly how you expect college to be,” I tell him, and he nods. I take another breath and wring my hands together in my lap before he shuffles forward,grabbing my hands in his, anchoring me. Closing my eyes, I try to find the courage to push through this shame that crawls at my chest, before I open them again and look right at him.

“Go on.” He encourages me with a softened tone, his face serious. I nod and take another breath.

“In my final year, things started to… change…”

He watches me carefully as I close my eyes and take another breath.

“There was this professor…” I say, and I feel his body harden, his grip on my hands firm. “He, um… he… It started when he asked me to stay back after class. He went through my marks with me on assignments. I thought it was a little weird at the time, because he didn’t seem to do that with anyone else from my class, but I thought maybe it was because I was struggling with the class.” I pause, and Hudson waits patiently.

“He offered to do some one-on-one tutoring, and at the time, I didn’t question it. He’s a leader in the college, very prestigious. It was somewhat of a privilege to be selected to get additional support. I didn’t think anything of it.” I try to breathe deep, my hands shaking a little in his hold.

“I stayed back after class, and he would go through a few things with me. But then…”

“Then what?” Hudson says, and I meet his murderous gaze. My heart sinks yet warms at his protectiveness.

“He just… Um… at first, I thought I was imagining things, but every week, whenever I stayed back after class, it kinda got a little more inappropriate each time. Initially, he just seemed to lean too close, but he had to lookat my work over my shoulder, so it makes sense, right? I’d rationalize it like that. But the next session, he placed his hands on my shoulders, squeezing, and his hot breath would hit my neck as he got close. I didn’t like it. Everything about it made me uneasy. My grades improved, though, and maybe he just worked like that, I didn’t know.” Feeling sick to my stomach, I watch as Hudson’s jaw clenches.

“But then things progressed…”

“Progressed how?” he asks, and I swallow, wanting to vomit but pushing through.

“The weekly tutoring continued, and each week, he got more and more comfortable. He would pull up a chair and his leg would touch mine. Once, I was leaning over and writing something, and he grabbed my hair from behind and brushed it behind my back. I remember his fingers touching the bare skin at my neck,” I say and shiver, just thinking about that creepy-crawly sensation. “Then one week, I passed a particularly hard test, and after class, he hugged me. It wasn’t a quick congratulations kind of hug, but a long, drawn-out one. His hands held me too tight. I couldn’t pull away, and to be honest, I was shocked, so I just stood still. His hands ran up and down my back, and he leaned down to whisper in my ear how proud he was of me.”

“He was grooming you,” Hudson bites out.

“I recognize that now… Just not at the time…” I say, shaking my head, not proud of myself. I’m usually so much smarter than this.

“One day, he kept me after class and asked me if I had a boyfriend. When I said no, he ran his hand down myface, then down my neck, before his fingers hit the top of my breast, and he told me that he thought I was beautiful.” I push out a breath, hating reliving this. “I stepped away from him, held my books to my chest, and said I had to run before I was late to my next class. It was a total lie; I didn’t have any class after his that day, but I couldn’t stand being alone with him anymore. So I started to skip his class.”

Hudson nods in understanding. “What an asshole.”

“I skipped a few classes, my grades plummeted, and he sent me an email telling me to come to his office to talk about it, because if my grades continued as they were, then I was likely to fail his class. I was straight A student in almost every other class. I had to be because I was on a full scholarship. I couldn’t fail. It wasn’t an option,” I explain, almost imploring Hudson to understand.

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