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I shake my head, about to defend myself when Greg stands up, running his hands through his shaggy red hair and squinting his brown eyes at me as he purses his lips.
“Don’t bother. Just let him go. He doesn’t deserve for you to treat him like he means nothing to you. Treating him like a dirty whore is only going to hurt both of you and I don’t want to pick the pieces of you up again.”
With that he turns around and storms away, leaving me feeling worse than ever with a ball of anxiety in my gut because I know he’s right. I need to do the right thing and let Hudson go, once and for all, even though the thought of doing so rips me apart.
I try to find time to talk to him over the next few days, but he never lets us be alone together. Vikki is always there, throwing daggers from her eyes at me. Her blonde hair swept up from her face and her pretty face set in a scowl. For someone who’s only five foot three she’s pretty terrifying.
I try to call him at night, try to catch him as he leaves the set, ask him to talk between takes but he brushes me off and ends up leaving as soon as we finish. We have a break tomorrow and I decide to wait until then.
Greg is finally talking to me again, but he’s still pissed at me, not that I blame him. He manages to find out Hudson’s hotel and room number and as soon as I wake up tomorrow, I’m going over there to talk things out with him.
My trip is wasted because he’s already checked out, so I decide to head over to our house and see if he’s staying there.
The drive fills me with dread and my knuckles are white as I grip the steering wheel. The drive doesn’t when I get there the house has an empty vacant look and when I step inside it feels cold and uninviting.
Still, I can’t give up. I make my feet move down the hallway, checking the music room, home office and three guest rooms before I stop at the master bedroom door.
My whole body trembles as I push the door gently open and my heart stutters in my chest as I see the bed sitting without any bedclothes on it. My feet trip over themselves as I push myself into the room, eyes drawn to the red wine stain on the cream carpet before I scan the room and see the unopened boxes in the corner, just like every other room.
It’s the sight of them and the two bottles of vodka that are almost empty, sitting on one of the bedside tables that has me spinning around and bolting from the room. He’s clearly not here and my being here is bringing back the agony I felt on the day that ended us.
I sprint out of the house, slamming the door closed and locking it up before sliding into my car and trying to calm my breathing. I don’t know where he is, but we’re flying to Morocco in two more days so I know I’ll see him then.
With nothing else to do I start the car and begin my drive home, stopping by the liquor store and picking up a few bottles of scotch so I can drink myself into a stupor. Maybe the drink, I reason with myself as I stand in line to pay, will help me stop feeling so fucking guilty. I didn’t do anything wrong, so why I feel like I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life is a mystery to me and one that I need to bury under a shitload of alcohol.
As soon as I’m in my flat, I rip the cap off the bottle and start drinking, not letting myself surface for the next two days, glad Greg had already made my dumb ass pack, so I don’t have to.
Chapter Four
HUDSON
Seconds after he comes he crawls off of me, causing me to wince. I don’t move. I can’t. My body is boneless beneath but his grunt as he moves to stand has my head spiraling back to that day as a memory washes over me.
I was stuck, I couldn’t move and I remember Xander on top of me, pinning me to the bed and the sound of cracking glass followed by a horrified gasp. My body reacts to the memory I quickly stand, glad that we fucked from behind and Landon didn’t see the small scars in the middle of my thighs because I can’t face answering his questions.
My legs wobble under me as I quickly pull my clothes on, hearing Landon’s words as he came. He said he loved me, but I don’t think he meant it. It was in the heat of the moment and as I drag my sweats up my legs, one of my cuts catches causing blood to run down my leg. For a moment I pause and watch it as nausea starts to swell inside me.
I need to get out of here and go home to the hotel I’m living in. I can’t stay in my house, not since before so I bolt outside on trembling legs. I want to stay. I want him to hold me, but the memories of that day are coming thick and fast and I don’t want Landon to think this is my reaction to sex with him because it’s not.
It’s not, is it?
“Fuck,” I mutter softly as I close the door at my back, but then it hits me that this is the first time that I’ve had penetrative sex with anyone since that day. My legs buckle and I crumple in a heap wishing Landon had stayed long enough to get me through this breakdown, but he never does. He uses me to get off, that’s it and it’s killing me inside.
My heart crumbles to ash and a sob rips out of me when I realize that I need to stop this. I need to stay away from him because he can’t love me like I need him to. Not anymore. I sit sobbing on the ground as it grows colder, and he still doesn’t come out.
Nothing says that he doesn’t care about me like him not even looking for me after we have sex. I can’t stop the tears falling or the cries pouring out of me and when Greg finds me, I’m soaked through. I didn’t even notice that it was raining and now I’m shaking with cold and despair because as he leads me to his car, asking me what happened I don’t know what I’m saying, but whatever it is, it’s clearly worrying him if his frown and his narrowed eyes are anything to go by.
He must know it has something to do with Landon and I but when he asks me what’s wrong all I can say is that it’s my fault and I deserve it. He stops pushing after a while and I give him directions to the Marriot near the airport where I’m staying.
He doesn’t comment on it and drives me back, leaving me to go to my room alone because I’ve calmed down a little, at least on the outside, but as soon as I’m alone I hear the voices again telling me how worthless I am, how I’m ruined for everyone, and that Landon didn’t mean it when he said he loved me. It was an instinctual response to his orgasm.
My head has me convinced and when I press the blade into my skin, reveling in the sharp pain and flowing blood, I begin to finally calm down. Cut after cut after cut. I sit on the bathroom floor, smelling of sweat, Landon and sex, but I don’t care as I rip my skin to ribbons. Eventually I stop after ten cuts and sit back letting my exhaustion wash over me.
I drag my ass up, clean up the cuts and step inside the shower, washing away the memories and the anguish of loving someone who doesn’t love me back. I decide to avoid him. I can’t face him again because I still love him. Damn it.
The aching in my chest becomes worse and I collapse against the tiles as I remember watching his face in the mirror as we fucked because that was all we did now, and it was so messed up. I need more from him, and I can’t have it, so I need to use the tiny amount of self-preservation I have left and stop because if I don’t, I’ll just give up now rather than after the movie.
One thing was abundantly clear now, Landon will never forgive me. I know it. I know he won’t and my heart aches with the heaviness of the knowledge that what happened between us is my fault. It’s all my fault and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.
