Page 21 of Please, Sir

I roll my eyes. “Of course I know Dolly.” She’s got a booth at the farmers market making water color greeting cards and lets local artists run it when she’s running the Gray Farms booth. Jo Jo loves Dolly’s cards, and she loves the Ellington sisters. Everyone in town does. “How is she? Wait, did someone attack Dolly—” I look at the black eye again and my brain leaps into overtime.

Hudson sighs, shaking his head. “No, no, don’t let your mind start workin’ now. Dolly is fine.” He presses his lips together, a little groan echoing in his chest. “She is… more than fine,” he sighs, and I have to force my gaze out the front of the windshield for a second before jealousy swallows me up.

I don’t have some secret crush on Dolly. And I’m happy for Hudson that they’re so damn happy.

It’s not that.

It’s that Hudson and I were single parents, together. Our kids were never close in age, so we were always at different ends of the spectrum of flying solo, but still, we were somehow in it together. That’s how I’ve felt for the last four years.

Then he met Dolly.

And I’m still single.

And Jo Jo wants to be called Lene and she doesn’t want to ride horses.

“You okay?” Hud asks, nudging me with his words.

“Sorry,” I respond, my voice husky to disguise the internal wallowing. “What happened to your eye?”

Hudson smirks, but I don’t miss the slight pink crawling up his neck, settling into his cheeks. “Dolly,” he says, studying my reaction.

“Dolly?”

He nods.

My mind is working overtime now, thinking that Hudson brought me out here to tell me that…Dolly hit him?

His young wife abuses him? But they’re so passionately in love?

Is that… no,that can’t be, right?

“Hudson, does… your wife hurt you?” The question sounds so foreign, but at the same time, if this is his way of asking for help, I’d be a prick to ask him if he’s joking. I know Dolly is passionate, maybe that passion translates to violence, too?

Silence spreads out between us and nerves twist in my gut. My God, Dolly Ellington-Gray is abusive? Just as I’m about to circle that thought with serious consideration, Hudson erupts into laughter.

He tips his head back, laughing so hard that he brings his thumb and forefinger to his face, pinching the tears from his eyes. “Oh man,” Hudson says between raucous bouts of laughter. “That… I mean, it’s not a joke. Spousal abuse is serious. But your face. Jake,” he laughs again, shaking his head, making me laugh a little, too.

“Well, hell, Gray, I don't know. You bring me out here to load milk cartons then show me your black eye and start talking about Dolly. I thought you were telling me inyour waythat you’re abused and I was trying to take it seriously!”

At that, Hudson breaks out into a laughter so deep that he gasps and gasps, silently fighting to get a breath.

I tamp my hand down, indicating enough. “Alright. You’ve had your fun.”

He finds his voice as he tries valiantly to chase the giggles away. “This bruise,” he says, tapping the edge of his swollen eye. “This is a bruise…of passion.”

I blink at him. “Of pass—ooooh.” Oh fuck. I look at the bruise again, this time seeing it differently, seeing it for what it is. I try to envision Dolly with her fist reared back, but damn, could she even leave that mark? “Passion,” I repeat, still studying Hud’s eye. “Jesus, she can really throw a punch, can’t she?”

Hudson erupts in laughter again, shaking his head. “She’s not into passionate punching, Jake.” His lips wobble with a laugh he’s clearly holding back. “This was from her knee…” he adjusts his hand. “She was trying to find her seat and kind of missed the first time.”

Her seat? I–oh. Oh shit. Okay. “I just learned too much about you,” I tell him.

He smirks. “You ain’t done yet.”

“What?” I ask, still staring at the shiner. “You need me to lie and say I punched you or something?”

Hudson laughs again.

“I am so glad you find this all so amusing,” I grouse, folding my arms over my chest.

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