Page 122 of Roughing It

“I stepped away long enough to make a cup of coffee. I made you one, too.”

“Ooh, give me, please!” I hold my hands out, fingers wiggling towards him.

“Someone’s feeling better.”

Nodding, I sip my perfectly made coffee. I’m finally back to a hundred percent. Those fucking berries can suck my theoretical dick. And my mother can go kick rocks.

Hudson and I spent yesterday in the cabin. Him hovering like a mother hen, me trying to convince him to fuck me into the mattress and out of my head.

Sadly, I didn’t win.

“Nurse Hudson took excellent care of me.” I wink. “Even if he wouldn’t fu?—”

“Blakely.” His gruff voice has a hint of warning in it. I love pushing his buttons.

“Sorry, Daddy.”

The tips of his ears turn pink, and he grumbles. “IsDaddya thing now?”

“You like it.” I pull him toward me so he’s standing between my thighs.

He runs a rough finger over my jaw and makes a noncommittal humming sound before kissing the top of my head.

The comfort Hudson brings settles over me like a warm blanket. Tilting my chin up, I say, “All kidding aside, thank you. No one has ever taken care of me.” And it’s true. Growing up, I took care of myself, doing the best I could. Sylvie and Buster did a lot, and Kirk does too, but no one, not one person in my life, has ever made me feel as safe and cared for as Hudson does.

The supreme unfairness of this entire situation isn’t lost on me. Why couldn’t I have met Hudson in Austin? There’d be no fear, no stress because if it didn’t work out, I’d still have everything I had before him. Our situation is a pressure cooker in comparison. What if I give up the life I know, only for things to implode a month later? What if I return to Austin and miss out on the love of my life?

“Hey, come back to me.” He pulls me to my feet and lifts my chin. When my eyes meet his, he says, “Now that you’re recovered, we’ve got a lot to do.”

My eyebrows pull towards my hairline.

“Three days. Camping.” He clears his throat. “With your time here about to end,” my heart clenches, “I want to see how far you’ve come.”

“What, like a test?” I squeak. Anxiety and inadequacy pulse through my system. Show what I’ve learned? Three days? My time here ending…

Shaking my head, I inhale and lick my lips. “I, um, made a decision.”

Hudson cocks his head. “Oh?”

“About my mom.”

His shoulders drop, and my stomach lurches. He thought I meant about us. But Hudson, being Hudson, doesn’t say anything. He simply raises an eyebrow at me.

“I’m going to deal with the current posts in a live, and then I’m blocking her.”

Hudson stares but doesn’t speak.

“I’m also addressing how my past helped make me who I am. And that I’m not,” my words falter, belying what I’m saying, “embarrassed of who I was.”

“Good for you, baby.” He brushes a knuckle against my cheek. “Why don’t you knock that out while I load the Jeep.”

“Actually…” My teeth tug at my bottom lip. “Would you sit with me? I could use your strength.”

Warmth softens his eyes. “Of course, I’ll sit with you, baby. But you don’t need my strength. You’ve got plenty of your own.”

Lacing our fingers together, I walk to the porch swing. Steadying myself, I launch one of my apps and a livestream. The storm my mother stirred means more people than normal jump on with me.

No shields. No makeup. No fake smile. Just Blake Lee, Blakely, me. I face my audience.

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