Page 20 of Baking With A Rockstar

He nods and leads us through the airport labyrinth to the correct parking lot. His huge, dark SUV stands out like a sore thumb, but I appreciate the spacious inside once we’ve got everything stowed away. By some miracle, Mira didn’t wake up and is safely seated in her car seat in the back. I hope she stays asleep on the hour-long drive back home.

We hit the freeway a few minutes later, and Hudson glances at me for a moment before turning on the cruise control. “So, how’s your friend doing? Did the transfer to the rehab facility this morning go well?”

“Uh-huh. From what she’s texted me, she’s already made her nurse blush a few times, and her physical therapist is a charmer, so it sounds like she’s doing great.”

Hudson chuckles, one of his hands lightly tapping on his knee. “She sounds like fun.”

“She’s the best. She actually said she’s going to come out to visit us in a few weeks when she gets the okay to travel. Her fracture was a bit more complex, so it’ll take a while to heal.”

“That must be hard for her. I can’t imagine if something similar would happen to my voice. It’s a scary thought.” He’s quiet for a moment, probably lost in thought. “I’m glad she seems to be in good spirits, though, that counts for half of it. And I’m sure it’ll be great for you guys to spend some time together.”

“Yes! Everyone in Brooksville has been so welcoming to me, but nothing replaces a best friend. I’m used to not seeing her a lot, but I still miss her. Monica’s been so busy touring the world for the last few years, she usually only makes it home every few months, for two or three days. Thank goodness for social media and video chats.” I turn to him. “But you know, more than anyone, what that’s like.”

He nods, adjusting his sunglasses. “It’s the most incredible experience to see so many beautiful places and to meet so many wonderful people from around the world. Yet, at the same time, it gets tiring after a while to be cramped up in a bus, or to live in one generic hotel suite after the other. Your values, and what’s important in life, changes a lot over time.”

“How has it changed your life?” I study him, unable to hold back the question, even though I feel like I might be invading his privacy. On the other side, I know he wouldn’t answer my question if he didn’t want to. Hudson doesn’t seem like a pushover.

“I think what changed the most was the urge for adventure. In the beginning, the excitement to get out into the world and see every last bit of it was exhilarating. Add the people you meet along the way to the mix, and it makes it almost addicting. As cliché as it sounds, you’re young, wild, and free.”

He stops talking, and I wonder if he’s contemplating how much he should share with me. We’ve definitely gotten to know each other better this last week, but when it comes down to it, we’re still strangers for the most part—even though it doesn’t feel that way. I also wonder if he was talking about women when he mentioned the people he met along the way. I mean, that’s what the whole rockstar title comes with, right? Lots and lots of women.

Changing lanes smoothly, he clears his throat. “Once some sort of routine settles in, life and priorities shift around. Playing your music in front of a crowd is still the best thing ever, but suddenly, you crave waking up at home in your own bed every day, maybe even with the same person next to you. Variety all of a sudden doesn’t sound as much fun anymore, but uniformity does.” His voice is barely a whisper when he finishes the sentence, and a hint of melancholy lingers in the air.

Just like that, the atmosphere has changed. If the constant glances Hudson keeps sending my way are any indication, he feels it too. I’m not sure if he regrets sharing all of that with me, so I try to think of a way to steer the conversation back to neutral territory.

Giving him a small smile, I focus on the part of the conversation that seems the safest and least sad. “Are you trying to tell me that the famous Hudson Mitchell is trying to settle down?”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say after all, because his expression turns even more somber. “Is that so hard to imagine?”

Way to go, Charlie.

“What? No. No! That’s not at all what I meant. I’m sorry. I guess I thought you meant it as a joke.”

The car fills with silence again, but this time, it’s a rather uncomfortable one. My nerves kick in, and I start to throw out the first question that comes to mind. “So, why isn’t there a Mrs. Mitchell? I’m sure you aren’t lacking prospects.”

Seriously, Charlie? Seems like the filter between your brain and mouth is malfunctioning once again.

He turns on the blinker and takes the next exit off the freeway, stopping at a traffic light at the bottom of the ramp. His gaze is on me, but I avoid it, being a total chicken. I can’t blame him if he’s getting annoyed with me either, because even I’m shocked I’ve been asking him all these personal questions. Monica wouldn’t hesitate for a second to dive into his life like she’s known him forever, but I, on the other hand, don’t normally act this way.

Until now, I guess.

“I apologize. Again. It’s really none of my business, so just forget I asked.” I can’t stop the all-telling flush from creeping up my neck, and I’m grateful Hudson’s paying attention to the road and not me.

“No, it’s okay.” Hudson clears his throat, and after a quick glance, I’m glad to see he doesn’t look mad. “I know this will sound awkward, but if I’m honest, I’ve actually wondered the same.” He shrugs, like he didn’t just make a statement that tugged at my heartstrings.

“You have? Really?” My voice sounds squeaky, not hiding the disbelief and shock.

“Most people think it’s easy to meet someone special when you’re in my position, like you just snap your fingers. From my experience, it’s actually the opposite.”

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t especially curious now. I’m leaning toward him in my seat, just enough to put my elbow on the armrest between us, propping my chin up on my hand. “How so?”

Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, Hudson’s knuckles are almost white from the pressure he puts on them, the muscles in his forearms rigid and strung tight. “Quite frankly, it’s hard to tell who’s interested in me as a person, or just the famous rockstar. Some people just want to be seen with me, have their picture taken, or maybe even snag a gig somewhere in the entertainment industry. There are a lot of leeches out there, I had to learn that the hard way.”

I’m stunned for a moment. “That doesn’t sound like fun. How old were you when you started your career?”

“I had just turned eighteen, and was only out of high school for a few months when I went on my first tour.” A frown is deeply etched into his forehead, his lips pressed together in a tight line.

The sudden urge to make him feel better stuns me for a moment. I want to reach out to reassure him, to make him feel better, but I’m not sure he wants that sort of comfort, or if it’s even my place to give it to him.

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