Page 34 of Secret Hudson

At first all I want to do is just sleep. Sleep and forget. Except my brain is so fucking wired from the overflow of new information in need of being analyzed that sleep is completely out of the question.

So, in an attempt to counteract all of the overstimulation happening in my mind, I seek out something to dull it all. An hour and a half of channel surfing through some of the most mind-numbing television I’ve ever encountered and I’m no closer to finding my escape.

Running out of options, I cave and do the one thing I told myself I wouldn’t do no matter what. I call my mother.

She answers after only one ring.

“Kier? What’s wrong, baby?”

I sigh. “Why would anything be wrong, Ma?”

“It’s five o’clock in the morning where you are.”

Oh. Right.

“I’m just not sure going on tour with Finding Nolan was such a great idea after all.” I have no idea why I’m being so vague with her. I need her and yet, the last thing I want is to burden her with my hurt. I’ve burdened her with plenty of her own over the years.

“Has something happened between you and Royce? Did you have a fight?”

I nod. It doesn’t matter that she can’t see it. She’ll know. She always knows.

“Kieran, honey, I’m sure whatever it was, you two will work it out. You’ve made each other so happy in such a short amount of time.”

“I know, Ma. But this is different. This is...” my voice breaks off and I barely manage to choke out the last word as the pain breaks free and takes me down with it, “heartbroken.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

ROYCE

I’m not super shocked when I can’t fall asleep all fucking night. Nor is it much of a surprise when Ava comes busting into my room after I finally do pass out.

“Get up.”

She yanks the blanket off of me.

“Shit, Ava. I could have been naked.”

She doesn’t care. “And what? Unlike you, reproductive organs don’t make me want to pee my pants in fear. Besides, Hudson slept on the couch last night, so you didn’t have any real reason to take your pants off, now did you?”

So that’s where he went. I don’t know if I’m relieved or pissed to find out he never even left the penthouse.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, reluctantly giving in to the fact that I’m apparently getting up. “Where is he now?”

“On his way to the airport with everyone else.”

That fucking wakes me up. “WHAT?”

She shrugs.

Then Blaise shows up in the doorway behind her. “Do my ears deceive me, or did Royce Lemmi actually shout?”

The irony of Blaise, the hot head, being cool as a motherfucking cucumber while, I, the guy who hasn’t seen a reason to raise his voice in nearly a decade, is now yelling at the top ofhis lungs, is not lost on any of us. In fact, Blaise is grinning. It’s enough to bring me back down to an angry mutter.

“Oh, great. So, you meant everyone else, except Blaise.” I yank a pair of jeans from the chair in the corner and pull them on. I’m not stupid enough to expect either of them to give me any privacy at this point. “Either one of you going to tell me what the fuck is going on? What? Couldn’t get a car big enough for all of us? Flight was overbooked?”

“It’s a private jet,” Blaise interjects the obvious.

I force my arm through the sleeve of my shirt even though it’s rolled up and wrong side out. “Yeah, I got that, Blaise. I was being sarcastic.”

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