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“Does Wren know what happened to you and Prisha?” I ask.
“Yes. That was the tipping point. She’s sworn off sororities,” replies Tracey.
I stick around, trying to cheer Tracey up, and stay until Wren comes back. I promise to hang out later. But first, I have to talk to Hudson.
CHAPTER 20
Charlotte
Hudson is seated at our table at the Oak with his head bent over his phone. He doesn’t notice me walking toward the table. I stare at his perfectly styled hair and navy cashmere sweater. His lips are rosy and slightly parted, and I swallow hard. He looks so content, and I’m about to ruin his day.
“Hey.” I slip into the booth beside him.
He looks up and smiles, but his eyes look troubled. “You want something to eat?”
I catch his hand before he waves the waitress over. “No, we have to talk about pledging.”
Hudson places his phone down. The screen is black, and he obviously doesn’t want me to see. It doesn’t bother me, but it does make me curious.
“I can’t tell you all the details, but it’s about Kurt.” I wince when Hudson sighs. “I know the two of you are in a frat, but the boy’s a mess. A dangerous mess.”
Hudson stares at me hard. “I still remember what he tried to do to you. I’m not letting it go. But I like to take care of things from the inside.”
I nod. “I sort of pushed it out of my mind, but I can’t ignore what I heard today.” I meet his gaze. “It’s about Sam and Tracey.”
“Sam doesn’t mention her anymore,” he says, leaning his chin in his hand. He spins his phone around and around on the table. His brow tightens as it spins.
“It’s because of Kurt and Theta,” I whisper.
Hudson leans back, and his hand moves around my back, His hand moves slowly over the back of my jeans, and his little finger slips into my pocket, hooking me. His heat comes closer, but I don’t look over. His breath is beside my ears as he gives me a tug into his arms.
My head tilts back involuntarily, exposing my neck. The coldness I felt when I said Kurt’s name is gone, and I feel safe again. I didn’t pick up on what was wrong, but Hudson knew. He knew that I’ve been blocking out a bad memory and even mentioning it was hard.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers against my cheek. “For what I made you do. But I’m not like him.”
My hand grips his hard thigh under the table as I steady my dizzy head. I think about the limo ride and the differences—I was sober and willing. It may have happened faster than I had planned, but it would have happened.
“We were both broken then,” I reply. “I forgive you.”
His mouth is warm, and his kiss goes deep. My head swims in circles as if it were a first kiss. The missing kiss we should have shared when we were kids. We never mention what happened in the limo, and I thought he took it in stride when I told him I threw out the dress. I thought he took me for granted and didn’t care what I did. But saying sorry has to have been the hardest thing he’s ever said to me. Even harder than saying “I love you.”
I look at the phone in his hands. “What are you doing?” I ask.
He sighs, turning on the screen. “I’m creating a paper trail.”
CHAPTER 21
Charlotte
Ivymore has been bittersweet. I don’t regret going to college, but it isn’t what I had hoped. My private life is the main character in my life, not earning my degree. I shed my heavy winter coat for a lightweight puffer as the campus changes from chilly gray to vibrant green. Next week, finals start, and the semester will soon be over.
I walk along the path toward the lecture halls after studying all night for my world history final. Well, my history won’t be repeating itself because I won’t let it. I don’t have to be at here anymore. I’m not obligated to return in September. College isn’t for everyone, and it was a shitshow for me. I can no longer tolerate the bullying, nor do I want to be the bully. I quit social media and delete all the apps off my phone. No more PMs asking me to send a pic of my tits for twenty bucks. I hate those incel trolls, but who likes them? The charity event raised almost five thousand dollars, which isn’t shabby for my first try. I don’t need a degree to help worthwhile causes and fill the coffers of Howland charities.
A group of students walk along the path and head toward the lecture hall. They joke in loud voices about nothing as they sip their coffees before disappearing inside. Dressed in jeans and worn hoodies, they tucked their overgrown hair under knit hats. I look down at my new coral puffer. My Stonehaven lifestyle never fit here, and even now, I feel out of place. I could live near College Hill and stay close to Jaxon and Hudson. But what about Asher?
I check my phone for the time, and he’s taking his last exam. The temptation to send him a text is great, but it has to wait. I decide that we will return to Weymouth together and face the past.
That weekend, I rent a Prius, which isn’t me, but I want to keep a low profile. No one would expect to see a Howland in a hybrid. I also veto staying at Alva Park. Before dawn, Asher and I start the drive back to New Hampshire, and I sense home before the signs on Route 88 announce it. The ocean air is warmer, with a bracing scent that clears my head as we drive into town.
