Page 18 of Too Broken to Love

She scrubbed her swollen eyes. Stepping into his embrace, she rested her head on his chest. “Ralphie’s asleep in his usual room. I’m staying the night.”

He hugged her, the burn behind his eyes threatening to blow. “Go home to Bob. We can take care of ourselves.”

“Bob’s fine. You’re not.” She opened the door to Pop’s study. “I opened a bottle of Sam’s favorite.”

The smell of bourbon and cigars and the sea hit him like a sandstorm. His vision blurred as he moved to Pop’s desk. Beyond the dark wood and the window lay a private beach. Beyond that, the ocean that had fueled Pop’s spirit.

Jesus fucking Christ, he needed his grandfather.

“Hudson.” Vivian’s voice shrieked over the click of her heels on the tiled hallway.

He leaned against Pop’s desk and braced himself for the tempest as she swept into the room, Nathaniel trailing close behind.

Slapping her hand over her heart, she spun to face him. “I can’t believe this.” Her eyes widened as she stared at the cuts on his arms. “What happened to you?”

“Broken glass.”

He waited until she put it all together. “Oh, Hudson. This is all too much.”

Yeah, it was, and he needed her to stop talking before he shattered into more pieces than Pop’s windshield. “I’m fine, Viv.”

“Nothing is fine. Malcolm said the police are opening an investigation. I knew something would happen like this. I’ve been telling Sam for years to hire a driver, but⁠—"

“That’s enough.” Hudson stormed across the room in three strides and threw open the double doors to the terrace. They slammed against the frame, the bang carrying across the stone expanse. Crushed seashells crunched under his sneakers as he reached the low wall that edged the dunes.

Everything he’d been holding in since the life drained from Pop tore free in a ragged howl. Falling to his knees, he faced the truth.

I was too late.

He hadn’t been too late to save Chris’s life. He’d kept his friend from bleeding out inside an inferno. What good was being the best of the best when he couldn’t save an old man from a car wreck? If he’d gotten there a few minutes earlier.

If he’d come home sooner.

If…

“Fuck.” The word dragged out of him, slow and rough. Pop may have said he was ready to go, but dammit, Hudson wasn’t ready for him to leave.

Soft footsteps sounded behind him. He rose and turned, expecting to find Josie. He found red lips and long blonde hair instead.

Shayla’s tears caught the terrace lights. He didn’t doubt they were real. She’d cared for Pop. But Vivian’s niece from her first marriage and Hudson’s high school girlfriend eyed him with the familiar hope of another chance at being Mrs. Hudson Langley someday. He didn’t have the patience for that on a good day, let alone the strength to face it tonight.

“I’m so sorry about Sam, Hudson.”

“Thank you.” He tensed as she hugged him.

“Malcolm is on the phone with his father about the will. Vivian’s getting upset. You should come in.”

As he pushed inside, he spotted Malcolm leaning against the bookcase. He’d changed into jeans and a T-shirt, but his posture shouted all business.

Vivian waved him over with her wineglass. “Malcolm said his father isn’t coming home to handle Sam’s affairs.”

Nathaniel straightened from the bar and brushed something off the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Doesn’t sound like a wise idea to me.”

“It’s not up to you.” Hudson looked at Vivian as he poured himself a bourbon. “And I don’t see a problem with that.”

Malcolm held up both palms. “Hey, I’ve only gone to the hospital once in all the times I said, hold my drink.”

“Did you not hear me? Do you really want Mr.-Hold-My-Drink-And-Watch in charge of your grandfather’s estate?”