Page 44 of Roughing It

“Yeah.”

“Are you divor?—”

“No, never married. She hoofed it outta here a month after accepting my ring. Paige grew up in Albuquerque. We met while I was finishing up my master’s.”

I wait, giving him a chance to say more. His grip on my ankles tightens. “I had a class that met once a month in person at UNM, and she asked me out for coffee after the first one. Five post-class dates and suddenly she was talking about moving to Trail Creek with me after graduation.”

“After five dates?” I can’t help but compare their situation to ours.

“Yeah.” He pauses again, his hands moving from my ankles to my calves. “It just sort of happened, but I spent three years thinking she was the one. She spent three years thinking she could turn me into something I’m not.”

Something closely resembling jealousy slithers through me.

“When you asked about my degree, it was her voice I heard. Telling me Trail Creek wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough. How she deserved more than to be stuck in some podunk town with a hick like me.” He pauses. “And I lumped you in with her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Shit. I’m trying to explain, but I’m fucking it up.” He runs his hand down his face. “When you came here, all pink luggage, fancy-ass shampoo, and big city attitude… well, I wasn’t fair to you. And you were right when you said I judged you. I’m sorry.”

“I know what people think when they first meet me. And I admit I lean into that persona. So I don’t blame you for thinking I would be like Paige.” I wrinkle my nose and spit her name out like it’s a green sour candy. “I probably am in some ways. But I want to be clear. I don’t think you’re some small-town nobody. You’re a businessman. A teacher. Someone your brothers look up to.”

“How do you figure?”

“There’s no way they don’t idolize the older brother who guided them to shelter and safety on multiple camping trips.”

“You make it sound like a big deal.”

“Hudson, you were what? Thirteen? Guiding an eleven-year-old and a seven-year-old through wild terrain with only your skills and smarts?”

His small frown has me wanting to back off the topic. “I’d been doing it for five years at that point. Three of those with Gray. My dad… he knew he could trust them with me.”

“That’s a big ask for a kid, though.” I brush his dark hair off his forehead. “But I’m sure he did.”

“Will you tell me something else I got wrong about you?” Hudson’s question is quiet, but there’s no mistaking it.

Memories twist and twirl. Ugly ones leap forward, vying for the honor of clouding my mind. The day my mother’s boyfriend made a pass at me, and when I told, the story flipped, painting me as the problem. Coming home after school that same day to a locked trailer and everything I owned packed in my little hatchback. Working multiple jobs asI remade myself from Blake Lee Shaw, sad, shunned, and scared into Blakely Bradshaw, confident, cool, and carefree. The evening of my thirty-third birthday, finding out what so many others knew: my ex was a cheating bastard. The aching loneliness of my apartment…

“I could use a snack. How about you bust out the picnic?” I wriggle, putting a little distance between us, but Hudson is undeterred. He simply pulls my feet back into his lap, tracing the same soothing circles as earlier.

“Come on, Spitfire.”

Not meeting his eyes, I swirl my hands in the warm water, staring at the little eddies my movements make. “I already told you this in a roundabout way, but I didn’t go to college. That’s why I’m so impressed by you having your business degree. I wanted to go to school, but it didn’t work out for me.”

“Your parents didn’t help you pay your way? Or support you?”

A harsh laugh bursts out of my mouth. “No. I’m really not a princess. Or if I am, I’m a self-made one.” Inhaling for five counts and then exhaling for six, I rein in the anger I still feel towards my mother. “I, um, my dad wasn’t around, and when I was seventeen, my mother and I… we had a...” I nibble on my thumbnail, “falling out. So, no, there was no one to help pay for college or offer support.”

“Shit, Blakely—” Hudson pulls me into his lap, wiping my little vortexes away. I’m straddling him now. My ankles hook around his wide hips, and my hands flutter before settling on his shoulders.

Heat surrounds me—the water and Hudson work like dueling furnaces, but I still shake in his arms. I bite back the urge to kiss him, instead leaning into the comfort of our teasing banter. “If you start pitying me, I’m liable to drown you in this hot spring. Got it, Bear?”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Got it. Can I still apologize for my fuck up?”

“That I’ll allow.”

“So gracious, aren’t you?” His deep voice and breath skim over my ear, raising prickles of anticipation along my overheated skin. “I’m sorry for the way I acted during your skills assessment. It was unprofessional. If you wanted, you could blast me six ways to Sunday on your social media platforms.”

“Is that what you think I would do?”

---