Page 37 of Lucky Laces
“I—”
But I take a page out of Jim’s book and pop my door, getting out and avoiding Hudson’s protests all together.
Betty joins me at the trunk, where I crammed their bags earlier, but I nod to the house.“I’ve got these, why don’t you go inside?I’m sure you’ve had a long day.”
She nods and trails Jim up to the front door, which now stands open.
I grab the bags, slam the trunk, and then pause next to Hudson, who’s ignored me and is trying to get out.
“Trust me when I say, you’re going to want to stay put.”
“Dee—”
I reach out, brush my fingers along his jaw.“Trust me?”
His eyes close, like my touch is the sweetest sort of torture.
Or maybe that’s just whatI’mfeeling.
I don’t have time to know for sure because he peels open his lids and he nods at me.“I trust you, DeeDee.”
A pulse through my middle—heat, need, desire, softness, some fucked-up combination of all them.
Then I’m pulling back and moving into the house.
The lights are blazing, so the electricity is on, and when I test the stove, the gas is working.Good.No curveballs.
Not yet, anyway.
I walk through the ground floor, giving everything a quick scan and probably soaking in far too many details about Hudson.
A tablet has ended up on the floor, print-outs of my drills scattered around to it.
So he is studying tape, trying to learn the drills.
Maybe there’s hope for him yet.
Pictures have fallen from the walls and the coat rack is overturned, but there isn’t any obvious sign of damage.Lucky for us to have been far enough from the epicenter to have escaped true danger, something that gives me hope for my place, though not for the wine bottle I left on the counter this morning in preparation of my reality TV and bath time that was supposed to happen tonight?—
Orlastnight, now, since it’s past midnight.
Yup.I’ll definitely have glass to clean up and stains to scrub out of my floor.
Along with some time spent mourning over a wasted bottle of merlot.
The toilet flushes—the plumbing works then—and I don’t miss that the sink in the bathroom doesn’t run before Jim comes out, still buttoning his pants.
Ew.
Ignoring him, I go to the kitchen sink.Turn on the faucet.
Water’s working too.
Great.This makes things easier.
So now it’s time to implement my plan.
Betty comes into the room, eyes searching, but Jim beats her to the question she so obviously wants to ask by scowling and griping, “Where the fuck is that boy?He never could move his lazy ass.”
