Page 108 of Wilde's End
“About?”
He points to the spot next to me. “Can I …”
I don’t answer, and after a moment, he seems to take that as a yes because he moves closer and pulls himself up beside where I’m sitting. It shouldn’t be a surprise to me, considering how easily Hudson makes himself at home.
He doesn’t say much for a man who wants a quick chat. I study him from the corner of my eye, taking note of all the differences between him and his brother.
Kennedy is less guarded; it’s immediately obvious in his expression and how he holds himself. He’s got a larger build, amix of muscle and softness, a thick mustache, and normal-length eyelashes instead of the ridiculously long ones that Hudson has.
“You know,” I say, taking pity on him, “conversations usually require words.”
His laugh is edged in nerves as he bites his thumbnail. “Yeah, sorry. Guess I’m not really sure where to start.”
“Instead of stressing about it, give me the reason you’re here.”
For all the differences they have, Kennedy’s eyes are that same speckled green as Hudson’s. “My brother.”
“Figured. And does he know you’re here talking about him?”
“Nope. He’d kill me.”
Good to know that I’m not the only one Hudson has a shit attitude with. “Why risk it?”
“I’m worried about him.” Kennedy casts his gaze away. “I don’t know what he’s told you about himself or our upbringing, so all I’ll say is there was a lot of stuff he shouldn’t have gone through that messed him up a bit.”
My thumb immediately finds one of my scars. I know about being messed up.
He props his elbow on the side of the tray. “Hudson doesn’t have a lot of respect for himself. It’s like he always thinks he deserves to be treated like shit. He’s had boyfriends over the years, who were …” Kennedy clenches his jaw before releasing it again. “Not good people. His ex especially was a complete asshole. If you heard the way he’d talk to Huddy, I’d just … I’d …gah, I hated that guy!” Kennedy rubs at his eyes like he’s trying to push the frustration back inside. “Hudson always makes fun of me for wanting to find love, but I don’t think he even knows what that is. All he knows is that any attention is good attention, even when the guy he’s supposed to be seeing video calls him while he gets off with some random because Hudson was too busy to meet up.”
My gut takes a dive at that. “Is that something that happened?”
“Yes. He was always pulling this manipulative bullshit. Telling Hudson they weren’t exclusive because Hudson had nothing to offer except a pretty face. Whenever they’re backonagain, I refuse to go to Hudson’s place in case I run into Sutton.”
That name rings a bell.
“He acts like it doesn’t get to him, but I know it does.”
And as Kennedy’s tone drops, I get a hint of the real reason why he’s here. “You think I’m treating him like shit too?”
The side-eye I get is all attitude. “Aren’t you?”
There’s no good way for me to answer that. I treat Hudson the only way I know how to treat someone I have mixed emotions over. He’s taken over my thoughts more than any person has a right to, but that doesn’t change the very real fact that there’s nothing long-term there. Not only am I an emotional black hole, but Hudson is fast to remind me this is only sex, and we both know his time in town is limited. I know better than to get emotionally invested in people, and if I can’t even have real relationships with the friends I’ve known for decades, what hope do I have of creating anything meaningful with the man I’ve started screwing? Even if it’s harder to hold on to everything that annoyed me about him in the past.
Now, when I think of Hudson, it’s less of an angry storm cloud and more like the still water of the swimming hole before it’s disturbed. Calm and waiting, hidden depths there for anyone willing to dive down and find them.
Am I willing? I look around my land, that sharp clarity gone, the view as familiar as the trails I walk.
“There’s nothing between me and Hudson,” I finally say.
“I know you’re fucking.”
“Sex is sex. He’s not looking for more, and neither am I.”
It’s clearly not the answer Kennedy wants. “Then why is my brother walking around the site, whistling and singing and not rising to Hartwell’s snark?”
“I …”
“He’s the happiest I think I’ve ever seen him.”
