Page 90 of Wilde's End
“Did you have breakfast?”
His question stops me before I reach the door. “Yes. I’m not a child.”
“Youreallystruggle with help, don’t you? Believe it or not, that’s a normal question to ask someone who’s been hurt and can barely walk.”
“I have no issues with walking.”
The bastard bops me on the nose on the way past. “Sure you don’t, sunshine.”
“We’re not doing sunshine.”
“One day, you’ll realize that you can’t control everything.”
My glare shuts him up, at least temporarily, because I’m not planning to realize that ever. “Get in the truck.”
“You didn’t say please.”
“If you’re waiting on that, you’ll be standing here all day.” I leave the house and cross my leafy yard. Everything is still wet from last night’s storm, but the sun is rising fast and hot, so I don’t expect it to stay that way for long.
Hudson follows me, and when he climbs into the cab, he smells fresh and sweet like always. I have to remind myself that today isn’t about fucking; it’s about trying to create some kind of friendship and respect for this place that will change his mind about destroying it.
“Who are we visiting first?” he asks.
“Thought we could go and see Gracie so you can tell her about what you did to her vase. Pot. Thing.”
“And I’ll make sure to tell her you call it a vase pot thing as well.”
I rub my temple, already knowing it’s going to be a long day. The worst part is that Hudson is literally just giving the attitude back to me, so there’s nothing I can do but take it on the chin.
I’ve been dreading this morning since I suggested it, but driving around with him is surprisingly easy. I keep silent, hetalks, and as we move from person to family to person, they soften to him.Iknow he’s impossible to resist, but that’s mostly in a sexual way. Everyone else seems to … like him.
I wave goodbye to Queenie as I climb into my truck and then sit there for a moment.
“Who’s next?” Hudson asks, oblivious to the raging thoughts flying through my mind. “This has been great. I’m pumped to win the next person over.”
Slowly, I cast my gaze his way. “How are you so personable? You’re a fucking asshole, but the Wenders love you.”
A little darkness shadows his green eyes. “I need to be able to talk to people at work. Unlike when we met, I usually have no issues with first impressions. It’s not getting people to like me in a surface-level way that’s the issue. They work out there isn’t much substance behind my smiles, and that’s when they want nothing to do with me.”
“No substance?”
He plays it off like he doesn’t care, but I’m confused.
I speak before I’m aware of even thinking it. “No substance is one of the last things I would have said about you.”
Hudson meets my gaze, and I don’t know why he looks so surprised. It’s just a fact. A man doesn’t uproot his entire life and move to the middle of nowhere because he’s worried about his brothers if he has no substance. He doesn’t stand up and meet every challenge I throw at him head-on if he has no substance. He also doesn’t get that flicker of sadness when he talks about shitty past relationships if he has no substance.
There’s more to him than he wants to admit, and I don’t want to know any of it.
So I turn my car on and get driving again.
“That way is the Lair,” I tell him. “Booker said you’ve already seen it.”
“The Lair?”
“Where we host Peril matches.”
He glances back the way I pointed. “Do they always happen here?”
