Page 94 of Hale
His love is a cure.
“I did. Do you think…” I trail off and bite on my bottom lip, hoping to keep the tears at bay. “Do you think he’ll be like me?”
Hudson tangles his fingers in my hair and kisses me fiercely. When I’m gasping for air, he pulls away and rests his forehead to mine. “I hope he’s just like you. Smart. Perfect. A great cook. Funny. Fucking adorable.”
I grin at him. “Maybe I want him to be like you. Strong and a math whiz.”
“That’s it? I give you five things and you give me two?” His teeth nip playfully at my jaw and the side of my neck.
“You’re a lot more than two,” I agree. My smile falls. “I meant, you know, mentally ill.”
No matter how many times Hudson assures me our son will be fine, I worry. There’s a chance that, genetically, I could pass down my depression to my son. But what I worry most about is new illnesses given to him because of who his father is—my brother. I’ve scoured the Internet looking for articles about incest. Despite the hate and disgust geared toward the subject, I’ve yet to find any proof that birth defects and mental disorders are linked to incest. In my effort to find answers, though, I did find a forum where people like us from all over the world have a place to discuss our challenges and triumphs while remaining anonymous. The admins of the group monitor the people in it closely and keep any hate away from us. I’ve found a friend, Maggie, who’s also with her brother. They have three kids and all of them are healthy. I ask her millions of questions and she answers them all patiently.
“Do you remember our vows?” he asks, his lips trailing kisses along my cheek until he reaches my mouth.
“I love you, even in sickness, Rylie. I’ll do the same for our son. We’re a family.”
Blinking away my tears, I smile at him. “A family.”
“Now let’s see if this dinner turned out okay. It’s not too late to crash Boyd and Patty’s dinner if it’s a total fail,” he teases, lightening the mood.
“You’re an asshole,” I grumble, unable to hide my smile.
“An asshole who was inside your asshole last night, heathen.” He grins wickedly at me.
“Hudson Hale!”
“Yes, Rylie Hale?”
“You’re so bad.”
He laughs, the sound deep and rumbly. “Then you must be bad too because you came loud enough that I was sure half the guests down the river heard me stretching out your needy little asshole.”
I shake my head at him. “This is not a good start to our official first Thanksgiving.”
“Whatever you say, beautiful. I think it’s kind of perfect.” He steals a kiss as he sets to cutting up the turkey.
I pick up the bowl of mashed potatoes and only wince slightly at the pain that shoots up my arms. I’ve been working hard with the weights lately because I want to be able to carry my son with no problems. One day soon, I hope to have full, pain-free functionality of my arms.
As we settle at our two-person table that already has a high chair set up and waiting nearby, I take a moment to enjoy our little slice of heaven. Beyond the big window that faces the west is an endless sea of trees, all of which are brilliant oranges, yellows, reds, and browns. The beautiful and winding Buffalo River can be seen cutting through the trees down below.
Hudson reaches across the table and runs his fingertip along my scar on my right arm. I turn to regard him, marveling at how handsome he is. He’s let his scruff grow in and it makes him seem older and more rugged.
Mine.
“I couldn’t ask for anything more than this, Rylie. This is everything.” His hand clutches mine. “Youare everything.”
Hudson
Six and a half years later…
“Run, JJ, run!” Rylie hollers from the picnic table where she sits with Aunt Becky.
Our son runs as fast as his little legs will take him around the makeshift bases. His slightly older cousin, Hunter, finds the baseball and lobs it at Uncle Randy, who misses. Hunter and Uncle Randy can’t play baseball for shit, but they’re still all smiles. When JJ stomps on home base, he runs over to me and throws his skinny arms around my waist.
“Home run, Daddy,” he says, panting.
His dark hair is sweaty and slightly curly. Cutest damn boy on the planet. Looks just like his grandpa Jerald James Hale who he’s named after.
