Page 55 of When We Were Us
I’d chalked it up to an adrenaline crash, too much coffee, and lack of food. It also could have had something to do with my inability to think about anything other thanherall day. I couldn’t get her out of my head. The way she’d felt pressed against me as she cried over her grandparents. I’ve been replaying that scenario over and over in my head since it happened. Then, thinking how she’d worked so quickly to help Apollo, and how amazing she was.
But the way she shut me down when I questioned her mystery phone calls hadn’t helped my mood. I knew she had probably just been tired, too, but it still bothered me that she didn’t want to talk to me.
Hudson picks up another peanut and cracks into it, giving me a look.
“She was great with Apollo,” I say, tipping my drink back for another sip.
“Yeah?” He nods, “And?”
My glass hitting the bar top punctuates my glare as I look over at him. “And what?”
“Did you ever apologize?” he presses, cracking another nut and tossing it into his mouth. “You know, for being a dick about the money stuff?” he replies, his gaze steady on mine.
I pull a breath in through my nose and take a beat, as my neck heats with irritation. What is it with my family and their inability to mind their own business?
He nudges my elbow with his. “So?”
“Jesus, Hudson, lay off.” Because, no, I actually hadn’t, had I? I told her I knew I hadn’t been very nice since she came back, but I never actually said the words.
He lifts his eyebrows as he looks over at the bite in my tone, his bottle halfway to his mouth. He doesn't say anything, just takes a long drink of his beer.
Maybe I am a grumpy motherfucker.
His silence immediately makes me feel like an asshole. So, I nudge him back. “Sorry. It’s been a shit couple of days. Things with Wren are…complicated.” I shrug. “I’d really just like to have one night where I don’t think about, talk about, or see her.” At least I can have the latter two things. Because there is little chance of me not thinking about her.
When I glance back up at him, the look that crosses his face has me turning toward the door, where his eyes are currently fixed. “Then you might want to finish up that drink, brother.”
The trill of female voices and laughter hits my ears before I see them. I pull a long breath in through my nose and let it out as I look over at Hudson before draining my glass.
Of course, she’s here. She’s everywhere. She’s inescapable.
All three of our sisters as well as Finnley and Wrenley come spilling into the bar. They’re laughing and smiling, and I’m immediately thankful for the packed space. With a shake of my head, I turn back to find Hudson watching me.
“I’m gonna head out.” Standing, I fish my wallet out of my pocket with two fingers.
“Come on, man. Sit back down. She doesn't even know you’re here,” he says, lifting his chin in their direction. “Have one more drink, and then you can go back home to your dog.” His voice is amused, but it doesn’t touch his eyes.
Hudson and I have always given each other shit, but I think he’s finally starting to understand why this is so hard for me.
The girls head to one of the reserved tables and all slide in as the waitress approaches their table. They never even glance our way. So, I sit back down, and Hudson taps the bar with his knuckles, pointing to my empty glass when he catches the bartender's eye.
“Thanks,” I say as she sits another whiskey in front of me.
Wren literally could not look more fantastic. Her hair is curled into soft waves and hangs loosely in a honey blonde curtain down her back. She’s dressed in a satiny black dress, with thick black straps tied in a pair of silky bows at the top of each tanned shoulder. The dress is fitted at the waist and flares out slightly around her hips. There is a split on one side, showing the length of one tanned leg from just above her calf to right above the knee,and she’s replaced her signature Chuck Taylors with a pair of nude strappy sandals.
I can’t keep my eyes off her.
Hudson is quiet for a minute or two, but when he catches me repeatedly glancing in the direction of her table, he sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Why don't you just talk to her?”
“I tried that,” I say in a low voice.
“And?” he asks, his eyebrows hiking up his forehead once again.
“She doesn’t want to talk to me, Hudson.”
“Why? Have you actually tried?” He’s like a dog with a bone.
“How the hell should I know? And yes, I’ve tried. Multiple times.” I turn my gaze on him. “One minute, she’s pissed at me, and the next, she’s crying.Then, she’s telling me what a good man I am. The next time, she’s clammed up.”
