Page 109 of Wilde's End
Well, that’s a humbling fucking thought. So why does my gut immediately drop out through my ass like it’s a bad thing? Knowing that Hudson’s been walking around with that same extra boost I’ve been feeling all day should be good, right? It should be a sign that whatever path we’ve started down, we’re onto something that could be good for us both.
But whenever I try to mentally follow the path and see where it ends up, I can’t get past the darkness.
Kennedy slides off the truck and turns to me. “I know you don’t owe me anything and that you hate us for what we’re doing. So I get it. I do. But … He deserves a break, Wilde. He deserves to stop hating himself and for someone to show him what a great person he really is.”
“And you assume I don’t do that?”
“I have no idea what you do. All I know is that I’ve seen a few interactions between you both that didn’t look healthy, and now he’s all happy, and I’m scared this is Sutton all over again. That you’re treating him like shit and he doesn’t even know the difference anymore. Hudson’s a good person. He deserves to be treated like one.”
“Right.”
“I’m just saying, if this thing goes on … please don’t be an asshole. If you can’t promise that, then … well, maybe you shouldn’t be around people at all.”
That makes me snort, and I’m not at all amused. “Literally my whole reason for moving here.”
Apparently, Kennedy has said everything he needs to becausehis expression falls. The disappointment seeps from him into me before he turns and heads back toward the bike.
I still haven’t worked through that conversation by the time he leaves and the bike dulls to a distant hum.
Kennedy wants Hudson to have what he deserves.
And that will never be me.
Where my gut sank earlier, something in my chest follows it. I sit there, trying to rub life back into my sternum, as I figure out what the fuck I’m supposed to do now.
Ignore the warning and enjoy this thing while it lasts.
Or listen to Kennedy. The problem is that I’ve forgotten what not being an asshole even looks like.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE
HUDSON
Thethumpagainst the side of the house comes later than usual, but I’m not about to complain. I only saw him this morning, so technically, he isn’t due tonight, but there was some kind of shift between us last night that I can’t deny feeling. Maybe this is a sign he felt it too.
I sit up and wait for him to climb through the window, cells prickling with the expectation of his touch. I’m not sure when exactly I stopped hating the sight of his face; all I know is that seeing it now sends quakes through my gut that I can’t control.
It’s an off-balanced type of feeling, the thrill of the high and sheer terror of toppling over the edge. I’m stuck on the terror side of things when he pushes the curtain out of his way and straightens, somethingchinkingin my chest that catches me off guard.
Fucking is not supposed to make me feel likethat.
Instead of immediately stripping off, Wilde crosses his arms and leans back into the wall. Fuck, he’s so …fuck. Those thick arms. His broad chest. The way he holds storm clouds in his eyes.I have this strong urge to walk over there and kiss him, maybe strip him down myself, but this incessant need to get off with him, to feel his skin against mine—no fighting, no low-lying anger—it’s not normal.
“Hey.” I lean back into my hands. “Forgot your way to my bed?”
One side of his mouth looks like he wants to smile, but he stops it. “What are we doing?”
Is that a trick question? “Talking.”
“No.” He waves a finger between us. “This. What is it?”
His gaze searches mine, even in the dark, and I look away. Whatever is going on in my head isn’t something I want him to witness. There are way too many gaps between what I think and feel and want. Wilde is … he’s made to be alone. I know what I am to him—relief—and that was exactly what I wanted when this whole thing started, but something has shifted. Something in the way he got uncomfortable when I mentioned how hot Foley is. Something in the way he planned to go to Wayward, and Ihadto stop that from happening.
The thought of him fucking some other guy wasn’t a tease like it was the first time. It hit deeper, this familiar sickly feeling I’m so used to, the type of feeling I didn’t notice was missing until it came flooding back.
He’s still waiting for an answer I don’t have.
