Page 69 of Wilde's End
I answer truthfully, which I think surprises me as much as him. “Twenty-seven.”
“That many?”
“Yes.”
“I was expecting you to say, like, five …”
“What does it matter?”
Hudson shifts in his chair, gaze flicking away. “Wanted to know how many lives we’re ruining.”
I don’t have an answer for that, not that I think he’s looking for one.
“What do I do?” he finally says.
My eyebrows pull tight, and I study the side of his face. His lips are quirked as usual, but he somehow manages not to look happy. “About?”
“The town.” He glances my way, and our eyes meet for a prolonged moment before he looks away again. “If we sell the place, you’re going to end up with the same issues you have with us. Anyone who buys it will want to redevelop the town to make money.”
Unfortunately, he has a point there. “I said I’d buy it.”
“How do you have that kind of money? No offense …” He taps the side of my house. “But this doesn’t scream luxury.”
“I have everything I need. And the rest isn’t your business.”
“Can you try to meet me halfway? I’m giving you honesty. You could try to do the same.”
“I was being very honest.”
He props his hands behind his head in a way he likes to do and a way that I like him doing. Probably too much. “We’re not going to get anywhere, are we?”
“I made you an offer.” One I can’t help but notice he didn’t jump at, so that tells me Hudson doesn’t actually want to sell.
“We didn’t come here to develop the place.”
“Just a lucky coincidence, then?”
“No, like …” He huffs. “That was the purpose I told Kennedy and Hartwell, but …”
“But?” I kick myself for asking when what I should be doing is getting him off my front porch.
Hudson taps one of his booted feet against the wooden deck, an erratic, uncertain pulse like he’s echoing the thoughts running through both of us. “Kenny’s a lover. Literally. If it was him youwere fucking, you would have come home to a house full of flowers and him ready to feed you chocolates. He comes on … strong.”
“Damn,” I monotone. “Picked the wrong brother.”
Hudson flips me off with his good hand and keeps talking. “I swear it’s every other month that I’m having to pick him up after he’s had his heart broken.”
I have no idea what any of that has to do with me.
“Then there’s Hartwell. You’ve probably already put together that they’re twins. And it’s like Kennedy got all the feelings and Hart got none of them. He’s just empty. All the time. Loves to joke about dying, and I know he’s not serious, but I also think there’s a small part of him that doesn’t care either way. I’m lost on how to reach either of them, and I’ve tried. I’ve tried to fix things for them and make it easier on them, but I’ve reached the point where I don’t even know what that is.”
“And you?”
He lazily looks my way. “Me?”
“You’ve told me a whole lot about your brothers, but last night, you said that you’re the one who’s scared to leave.”
He almost looks like he’s going to shut down, but this is a challenge, and Hudson meets those head-on. For all he says about having a short fuse, he’s not scared of anything. “If I can’t help them … what’s the point?”
