Her eyes find mine. “Worrying about you is part of loving you,” she says softly. “Please don’t ever try to stop us from loving you.”
Something in my chest pulls tight at that.
“I’m trying not to,” I admit quietly.
“And I’m trying to be better.” Her fingers squeeze mine harder. “I know I said awful things before, but I swear to you, Hudson, I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that I never meant them.”
I push myself upright and pull her with me. She folds into my arms instantly, holding on so tightly it almost hurts.
“Hads,” I murmur into her hair. “We can’t keep living in the past.”
She sniffles against my shoulder. “I know.”
“If we keep looking behind us, then we will miss all the good that is ahead of us.”
When she pulls back, her eyes are glassy. “You really believe that?”
I think about our parents. About Cullen. About this moment in the grass with my sister laughing like we were kids again.
“Yeah,” I say. “I do.”
Hadley stares at me for another second before dramatically scrubbing beneath her eyes. “Okay,” she exhales, “enough crying before my mascara ruins my whole face.”
I snort and jump to my feet, brushing grass and dirt off my ass. “And she’s back.”
Hadley rolls her eyes as I grab her by the hands and haul her up next to me.
“Mom and Dad will both be home soon. Why don’t we just order some pizzas and load up a movie on the TV and we can all veg and relax tonight?”
“Mrs. Doubtfire?” Hadley asks hopefully, hands clasped under her chin.
My brow raises, a smirk pulling up on the side of my face. Hadley’s eyes light up, recognition sparking her own smile.
We inhale at the same time and from the top of our lungs shout, “Help is on the way, dear!” in our best, worst Scottish accent, before we explode in a fit of laughter.
Somewhere between Hadley shoving at my shoulder and both of us nearly collapsing back into the grass, some broken part of us quietly clicks back into place.
Chapter eleven
Cullen
Each day Hudson’s stalker isn't caught, the anger inside me sharpens into something ugly. Mason is the only one who makes sense, and even after the police questioned him, I can’t stop thinking about how he obviously lied his way out of it.
I’m barely sleeping. When I do, I wake up tangled in sweat-soaked sheets with my heart trying to punch through my ribs. And knowing that he is still out there, roaming free, keeps my nerves stretched painfully tight.
I drag a hand down my face and exhale slowly.
Somehow, through it all, Hud is staying positive.
He calls me now when things get bad instead of shutting down. He talks to me about the dark thoughts instead of keeping them to himself. And lately, I’ve caught him smiling without forcing it.
Real smiles.
While I’m the one wearing a mask now.
I don’t know what to do with my own thoughts anymore.
Hud kept talking about his demons, but I never fully understood what he meant.
