Page 144 of What About Us
“You know I do,” I grit out.
He lifts his chin, daring me to contradict him. “Then stop being a bitch and don’t take no for an answer.”
I scowl and grumble out, “Give me another shot.”
He shakes his head. “You’ve had enough.”
“You’re a real asshole, you know that?”
“Yeah, and if I give you anymore, you’re gonna drop dead from alcohol poisoning and I’m too fucking tired to bury your ass.” He stands up, kicking my foot with his boot. “Get up, fucker.”
I slowly climb to my feet and he grabs my arm, walking with me to his van. Sliding the door open, he points inside. “Take your shoes off and get in.”
“Why?” I sway into him, and he fists the back of my flannel to keep me upright.
“Putting you to bed. Unless you wanna freeze your ass off in the bed of your truck all night?” He cocks an eyebrow at me.
“Are we gonna snuggle?” I slur with a smirk.
He rolls his eyes skyward and scrubs a hand down his face. “For fuck’s sake, just get in the goddamn bed.”
“Where you gonna sleep?” I ask, climbing up and flopping down on my ass on the surprisingly comfortable mattress. I bounce a few times, then think better of it as nausea rolls through me.
“I’ll take the couch in the shop.” He yanks a blanket out from under me, causing me to tilt to the side. A wave of nausea hits me again, and I clutch my stomach.
“I can sleep there.” I moan miserably.
“The fuck you will. You couldn’t walk ten steps if you tried.” Reaching into a cupboard next to the bed, he grabs a mixing bowl and shoves it at me.
He points a finger in my face. “You puke in my bed and I’m cutting your nuts off and feeding them to you for breakfast. Got it?”
I grimace. Not at the thought of me losing my nuts, but at the thought of breakfast. The chances of vomiting are high. Fuck, I’m really goddamndrunk.
I peer over at him through the darkness of the van. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“I’m not. I just hate listening to your pussy-ass whine.” He gives my forehead a shove and I land on my back with anoof. “Go to sleep, Hudson.”
I huff out a laugh. “All right. Fuck. You don’t have to be such a dick about it.”
He leans in and grabs his pillow, making my head drop to the mattress.
I blow out a long breath, then lift my head a fraction. “Thanks, brother.”
“Anytime, fuckface.” He yanks off my shoes and chucks them on the floor. “And remember what I said about the puking.”
“Got it. Nuts, knife, breakfast,” I say, dropping my head back to the bed, nausea threatening to bring up my dinner and who the fuck knows how much alcohol.
His chuckle is quiet as he closes the door. I hear the crunch of his footsteps on gravel and dirt as he walks away, and it isn’t long before I succumb to the blackness of the night and a whole fuck-ton of alcohol.
Chapter 53
Finnley
The coffee in mymug has gone cold. Just like everything else in my life since the day Tristen came to town and annihilated the happy bubble Hudson and I had been living in. He and Paige left the townhouse four days ago, I’m assuming to stay at the ranch. I’ve been staying at the B&B in one of the guest rooms, so Allie and Skye can keep their hours and use the caretaker’s quarters. There’s no reason they should lose out on money because my life is in shambles.
I can’t be in that empty house, anyway. All I see when I’m there are the things I lost when I drove away from the love of my life.
Hudson texts or calls every day, multiple times. I should answer, let him know I’m ok. But I can’t, and I’m not. Hearing his voice when it’s this fresh isn’t a good idea. This place is the only thing keeping me sane right now. Its name isn’t lost on me. Timber Haven has been exactly that the last few days. I feel better here. Not content and not ok, but better.
