Page 63 of Fragile Heart

CHAPTER24

Quinn

Hudson's gripon my wrist makes me more nervous than I already am. I don’t know what happened while I was in the bathroom, but something definitely spooked him.

He drags me through the restaurant like a defiant child, which is humiliating, so I hope no one is paying attention. Unfortunately, I doubt that’s the case.

As soon as Hudson pushes through the door, a swarm of cameras is in our faces. More than I’ve seen together in one place. I hear Hudson mutter, “Fuck.” His grip tightens around my wrist, but I hide my wince as he pulls me harder towards our waiting car.

I look to my left and then to my right, but I’m blinded by the flashes. They close in on us, almost like they’re trying to trap us in a circle. I feel a bead of sweat drop down my back.

I’m scared.

And Hudson’s anger isn’t helping. But I remember that I’m a big girl, and I’ve gotten through tougher things. I hold my head up and straighten my back. If they’re going to take pictures of me, I don’t want to look like I’m a cowering toddler who can’t handle herself. A reluctant smile pulls at my lips. It feels unnatural for me to smile at these people invading my personal space. But I pride myself on always trying to see the silver lining in a situation, and right now, that silver lining is that I’m in a beautiful city with a handsome man, and I’m supposed to be happy.

I might not be happy at this exact second, but these people don’t need to know that. I was happy yesterday and today until about ten minutes ago. So, I’ll share my happiness with these people in hopes that it will rub off on them.

Hudson pushes us through the crowd, and people yell things at us, trying to get information.

“Are you two together?’

“Who are you?”

“What’s your name?”

“Where did you meet?”

Neither one of us answers any of them, but I keep the smile on my face even with the pain in my wrist from Hudson squeezing it. I’m sure it will leave a bruise, but I’m too afraid to stop and pull myself away around all these people. So I grit my teeth and bear it until we reach the car, where Hudson practically throws me in the backseat.

I don’t know what made Hudson completely change on me. It had to be something Jessica said to him. I want to ask him, but I’m scared it might make the situation worse. Hudson hasn’t been like this since he first got to Blue Mountain, and even then, he never made me feel scared like I am right now.

I sigh in relief when the car moves. I rub my tender wrist to relieve some of the pain, and I feel Hudson watching my movements.

A few of the cameramen jump in their own cars to follow us. I watch carefully as our driver picks up speed to lose them.

At this point, we’re racing down the busy streets of Los Angeles. Our car whips in and out of lanes like it’s nothing. The cars that are following us do the same. I hold on tightly to the door handle like that would save me if something happened. At the speed we’re going, if someone were to pull out in front of us, I’m afraid there would be no saving us.

I hold my breath as we come to a yellow light, but our driver doesn’t let up on the gas. He speeds through the intersection as it turns red. I look behind us to see that the cars following us were forced to stop at the red light. Maybe they realized getting a silly picture wasn’t worth causing a huge accident.

The car is silent as we turn down a side street and make our way to Hudson’s neighborhood. I grit my teeth to stop myself from asking questions I know Hudson won’t answer. I want to know what is going on. Why did we run out of the restaurant, and why are we racing through the streets?

I take a few deep breaths to lower my heart rate and look over at Hudson. Other than the angry look in his eyes, he seems unfazed, like this is a normal occurrence for him. It breaks my heart that this is something he has to deal with regularly.

After a moment, I decide that I have to know how Hudson went from being so sweet and having a great time to being a complete jerk and pulling me out of the restaurant. He’s never been like that with me before, and I know something must have triggered him.

“What happened back there?” I ask quietly, testing the waters.

“Paparazzi. That’s what they do.” His voice is so cold. Nothing like the Hudson I’ve come to know over the past few months. . . the Hudson I’ve been falling for.

“No.” I shake my head. “What happened in the restaurant?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying to me.” He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he looks out the window. “Was it Jessica? Do you still have feelings for her?”

“Fuck no,” he answers sharply. “Nothing happened. Can you just drop it?”

I do drop it, for now. Maybe he needs a minute to calm himself down. I want to help him work through whatever is going on inside his head, but I’m not going to let him talk to me like a child.

---