Page 93 of The Promises We Break

HUDSON

“Yes, you have to wear the mask, Hudson. It’s a masquerade party!” Cruz declares, as he adjusts his own mask in the mirror of my bathroom.

Cruz’s date fell through, which he has expressed his disdain about more times tonight than baseball games I’ve played this season. Since my date, the queen of the club, had to be at the club early, I agreed to go with Cruz so he didn’t have to show up alone.

I wasn’t all that concerned about who I showed up with, other than that I would have preferred the gorgeous redhead that is my current obsession on my arm. But Jake just messaged me and said the media was swarming outside the club.

We’ve nearly clinched a playoff spot, and knowing they are there snapping pictures of anyone coming in might draw some unwanted attention that I’m certain Coach would not appreciate.

Actually, these masks are a good idea.

“Do you have another one that covers more of my face?” I shift the mask that covers my forehead, eyes, and nose. It’s black, with rose gold colored lines embossed over the frontand the top cut out in a fashion that resembles a king’s crown.

“Oh, hell no. I had those specially made to match Ember’s. You are wearingthatone.” He steps out of the bathroom. Cruz always looks good in pretty much anything he wears, be it casual or black tie. But tonight, he belongs on a high fashion runway.

His charcoal suit is tailored to his body, a purple satin vest that matches a purple bow tie that only he could pull off. His mask matches himself—black, white and purple designed throughout—one side of the mask flares out over the top of his head, and I couldn’t envision a better look for him.

I look down at myself, straightening my tux. I didn’t opt for anything, since I let Cruz dress me to match Ember. I’ve never worn all black everything. It’s definitely not my style, but I don’t hate it. Black tux, black shirt, black vest, black tie. It’s very John Wick.

I take one more look at myself in the mirror, running my hands through my newly styled hair that I just had cut earlier today.

With the black suit, mask, my new haircut, and slight stubble I decided not to shave today, I wonder if Ember will even recognize me.

I know I won’t miss her.

My eyes find her in any room she’s in, like they are drawn to wherever she is.

I didn’t get to see the dress on her, but I did see it on its hanger when she left earlier today. She is beautiful in anything she wears, but that dress already looked sexy as shit on that goddamn hanger. She’s going to bring that to life when she slips it on, just like she does everything else she touches.

I know that she’s been busy with the club, but I also know she’s been pulling away slowly. It’s been gradual, but the same fleeting feelings I had when I first met her have returned. She’sbeen preparing herself to run. Except this time, I know she feels like it’s time because the season is almost over and she’s protecting herself.

I hate that I feel like I’m already losing her. Which is why I never told her of the five-year contract that Coach told me about. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that option was on the table, for fear she would leave earlier than the end of the season.

I want her to decide to stay… for me. For us.

I know I have to confess everything to her. I have to risk it all to keep her. I just haven’t had the guts to bring it up yet.

“Are you ready to head out?” I ask Cruz as I walk out of my room.

“I’ve been waiting for your lagging ass,” Cruz replies, his ass plopped on top of my kitchen island, like he owns the place.

“Get your ass off the table where I eat.” I wave my hand at him.

“Ember sits here all the time,” he fights back, not moving.

“Her ass is welcome there,” I reply with a smile, because her ass is welcome anywhere.

“Ugh, fine.” He pushes himself off, landing on his feet.

“Am I driving?” I assume I am, so I’m already reaching for my keys.

“Oh, hell no. There is a limo waiting for us downstairs. I expensed it.” He shrugs, heading out the front door I’m holding open for him. “Ember might be the queen of this club, but I am, by default, its prince, and a prince arrives in style, baby.”

Jesus, I’m arriving at a very public event in a limo with Cruz. I chuckle at the prospect of the media headlines. “This should be fun,” I whisper to myself, following behind a very excited Cruz.

The spectacleoutside of the club is completely out of control. The police have an area blocked off, where protestors are chanting and holding signs. Nothing I know they didn’t expect, but the sight is still pretty jarring.

These people are taking time out of their life to protest, in such a violent way, what others do with their bodies and their choices in their sexuality. I just can’t justify that.

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