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“I saw the Chevelle there this afternoon.” She shoves the car keys into my hand. “Now do us all a favor and go get your man back.”
“Starr,” I start to object.
“Don’t.” She holds her hand up to silence me. “You saw the same thing I did on that video. A man does not write a song like that about a woman he’s not still insanely in love with. He’s hurting, Lenny. You’re hurting, no matter how much you try to pretend you’re not. Stop fighting this and accept that you made a mistake. You thought things would be easier without him and you were wrong.”
“What if he doesn’t want me back?” I voice my real concern, knowing everything she said is true a billion times over. I knew I made a mistake the instant he drove away and I’ve spent weeks trying to convince myself otherwise.
“Did you watch the video?” she asks me like the question couldn’t be stupider. “Now go.” She pulls me from the bedroom and shoves me down the hallway.
“I need to change,” I object, having thrown on black athletic shorts and a racer back tank when I got home from work. My hair is up in a messy knot looking a complete hot mess.
“You look fine.” She gives me a quick once over. “Now put these on.” She tosses a pair of flip flops at me.
“Okay. Okay,” I say, quickly slipping them on.
“And Lenny.” She stops me as I turn toward the front door. “Good luck.” She gives me an encouraging smile.
“Thank you.” I force a smile despite the fact that I feel like an entire family of butterflies has invaded my stomach and are flapping around wildly.
—-
It takes me less thanfifteen minutes to reach the beach house. As Starr said, the Chevelle is parked in the driveway which means Hudson must be here. Pulling up next to his car, I park and quickly climb out. I don’t think–I simply act, knowing if I do I’ll surely talk myself out of this.
Knocking on the front door feels so completely out of place. It seems like only yesterday this was my home. In a way it will always feel that way no matter what happens tonight.
I wait rather impatiently for a full two minutes, knocking several times over that course, but I hear nothing. Following the path that leads around the side of the house, I enter the gate code before stepping around back.
I spot Hudson before my feet even hit the sand. He’s sitting a few feet back from the water, his knees pulled up to his chest. His gaze is locked on the waves as they roll in, one after the other.
I slip off my flip flops and slide them onto the deck before quietly crossing the beach toward him. My heart is hammering so loudly in my chest I swear there’s no way he can’t hear it as I approach.
When I finally reach him, I spot the bottle of tequila dangling in his hand. I expect him to look up, acknowledge my presence, but it’s like he’s so lost in himself that he doesn’t realize I’m here.
Pulling in a shaky breath, I step next to him and without a word, slide down onto the sand beside him. Crossing my legs, I reach for the bottle of tequila, sliding it from his hand right as his gaze comes to mine.
I take a long pull from the bottle, feeling Hudson’s eyes on the side of my face the entire time. I take a second swig, feeling like a little liquid courage might do me some good right about now, before handing the bottle back to Hudson.
When I finally meet his gaze his expression is guarded, his eyes unsure, and the coil in the pit of my stomach tightens.
He stares at me for a long moment–the space between us zapping with energy–but he doesn’t say a word. I start to wonder if I misread the video; the song he wrote. Maybe that was his way of letting me go, not hanging onto me.
Eventually he breaks the connection, turning his gaze back out to the gulf just as he lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a pull.
“I...” I start, feeling like I might suffocate under the heavy silence.
“Every time I drink Tequila I think of you,” he says, his voice hoarse as he looks down at the bottle in his hand. “I remember you. How you taste. How you smell. How you feel. How you look when you’re lying beneath me. I remember it all, Lennon. And fuck me, but no matter how much it fucking hurts I never want to forget a single moment of it.” His voice breaks slightly at the end and it’s all I can do to not burst into tears right on the spot.
How did I ever think I could give him up? In what crazy reality did I believe a life without him would be better than a life with him? I felt so sure at the time and now I can’t seem to wrap my head around it.
“I don’t either,” I respond, my chin quivering as I watch him stare out at the water which is perfectly illuminated by the moon.
“I can’t do this without you, Lennon.” When he turns back to me there are tears in his eyes. Like a sledgehammer straight to my chest, all the air leaves my lungs in an instant and I struggle to pull in another breath. “I know this is what you wanted, but it was never what I wanted. All I want is you. I meant what I said. I’ll give it all up. I thought being a musician was the only thing that could ever make me happy. But then I met you and I realized it’s not about the music, it’s about what inspires the music. And you, Lennon, you are what inspires the music. What inspires me. You are what matters. None of it means a single thing without you.”
“Hudson.” I lay my hand on his forearm and I swear a shock runs all the way up my arm. “You...” I start, but he cuts in like he can’t get the words out fast enough.
“I didn’t sleep with Annabelle. I never touched her, Lennon. I swear. You have to believe me.”
“I do,” I admit.
