Page 82 of The Promises We Break

I’m in the green dress that Cruz picked out for me, my hair pulled over one shoulder as I look to the side, smiling widely at something someone was saying. I can’t even recall when he took this. I never even knew he took this.

“It’s a good luck charm.” Hudson’s voice startles me, and I jump-turn to face him.

“Well… actually, at first I just wanted to feel you next to me, whenever I was away at my games. So, I placed it on my nightstand next to my bed. Then, that first stint of games, we won all but one game.” He smiles, pushing himself up to a seated position on the bed. “The game we lost, your picture had fallen off the nightstand the night before. I woke up in the morning and it was facing down on the floor, so now it’s a superstition. If I don’t have it…” He runs his hand through his disheveled bed head hair. “If you’re not there… everything feels off.”

He looks up at me with a tight smile, lifting his eyebrows at his confession. He tosses off the sheets and stands, wearing nothing but his boxer briefs and a field full of smooth skin and ropes of muscles. He closes the distance between us and lifts my chin, shifting my eyes away from the picture and directly into his.

“There isn’t anything in my life that feels absolute, unless it’s with you.”

“Oh,” I breathe out, my lips barely moving, feeling paralyzed and confused.

“You know, you say‘Oh’a lot.” He nods, answering my silent expression. “Whenever you are surprised about something.” He leans in close to me and tucks a rebellious strand of hair behind my ear. “You say ‘right’whenever you have to accept something that you can no longer avoid, and you say ‘I can’t’, instead of no, because you have spent your entire life pleasing people and don’t like saying no.”

Right.

“When you’re nervous, you bite the corner of your bottom lip. This side,” he brushes his thumb over the left side, “and you stick your tongue out on this side,” he moves his thumb over to the right, “when you’re hyper-focused on something.”

Well, shit.

My broken heart cracks a little more at the realization of how well he knows my ticks. Or maybe it’s attempting to repair itself, but my heart doesn’t know the difference between breaking and healing, knowing that an open heart leads to a broken one.

“People see you Ember; the ones that matter do.” His words speak volumes, even though they were hardly a whisper.

Wet cotton balls form in my throat with the density of the air and dryness in my mouth, mixed with that heavy ache in my chest, and it’s difficult to breathe. My thoughts evaporate between my brain and tongue, and I’m unable to form any words. His statement leads to a conversation that I’m just not ready for.

“Well, you are an observant one, Mr. Byrnes.” I smile, keeping it as light as possible.

His brow furrows and I step around him, avoiding any scrutinizing, and place the picture back on the table.

“We’re at my parents’ house.” He steps into sweatpants and pulls a shirt over his head. “I didn’t know where to go, but Iknew we couldn’t stay there, so coming home just sort of happened.”

“Makes sense.” I nod in agreement. Home is a comfort to him, so I can totally understand why this is the first place he thought of. I wish I felt the same.

“I just need a few minutes. I’ll meet you down there?” He nods, kisses my temple, and disappears, closing the door softly behind him.

My purse sits on the corner of his desk, and I reach inside to grab my phone.

No missed calls. No text messages.

Nothing.

Not even my brothers.

I’ve walked through my entire life feeling like I’m on an island, fending for myself. Nothing but my thoughts, ideas, and goals to motivate me. I reveled in the solidarity because it made me feel strong.

But for the first time, I feel so alone, and it makes me feel so weak.

“I don’t knowif or when they will ever tour again. They just so happen to be here today, when you randomly come out of the blue. When mom told me last night you were on your way, I called my guy and got front row tickets. It’s like a miraculous divine intervention for you to finally see them!”

I stand at the base of the stairs, tucked around the corner from behind the kitchen. The smell of perfectly cooked bacon permeates the air, and it smells like I’m in the best breakfast diner in the city instead of someone’s home.

My stomach was anxious to get to the kitchen, but I slowed instantly when I heard another man’s voice talking with Hudson, realizing pretty quickly it’s one of his brothers.

“Grant, this is amazing, but try to sell them or something. I can’t go. I’m not comfortable taking Ember with everything that’s happened.”

“Okay, hear me out. From what little you told me, that’s all kinds of jacked up shit what happened last night, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. It’s fucking Green Day. You know, your favorite band, like ever of all time.”

Hudson has mentioned this before, and I’ve seen his playlist for his workouts and game days. There’s a mix of all kinds of different hype music, but his favorite 90s punk band takes up a majority of it. He told me his mom thinks he should have been born in an earlier generation with his love for 80s and 90s music, specifically punk rock. He prefers to listen to that than current pop or anything else.

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