She peels herself off Hudson and begins rifling through the bottles on the counter. After a few seconds, she finds what she wants and pours a heavy splash into a red Solo cup, adds a dash of orange juice, then downs it like it’s water. Without missing a beat, she fills the cup again and disappears into the crowd.
“Seriously, Hud. What’s her deal?” I look him in the eyes. His gaze is unfocused, lids heavy. I make sure we’re alone before stepping closer. “Are you high?” I try to whisper, but it comes out harsher than I mean it to.
He flinches and steps back like I slapped him.
Shit. That stings. I move toward him, but he holds up a hand, stopping me cold, his face etched with hurt.
“I was anxious and on edge,” he snarls, low. “So, I took one of theprescribedmedications your dad gave me, but thanks for assuming the worst.”
“Hud—”
“Lay off of Ella,” he snaps. “Stop acting like she’s going to have me snorting lines.”
“That’s not—”
“Then what is it, Cullen?”
Fuck.
I don’t want to fight, so I swallow hard and discreetly take his hand. “I’m sorry. It didn’t occur to me that you’d need your meds.”
He shakes his head, still upset with my accusation, and snatches an open bottle of tequila off the counter. Walking over to where Ella is sitting on the couch, he drops down beside her, slinging an arm over her shoulders. She snuggles into him, her hand landing high on his thigh.
He doesn’t move it. Just chugs.
Matt plops down next to him, Katie on his lap, and starts talking animatedly to the group.
Heather is standing near the fireplace, eyes locked on Hudson like a predator. I made it clear he was off-limits, but she clearly doesn’t give a single fuck.
I’ve resigned myself to staying sober tonight. Someone has to make sure Hudson doesn’t end up face-down in the lake. He seems determined to get trashed, and I’m powerless to stop him. All I can do is watch from a distance and hope that, come morning, we can talk about what happened here in the kitchen.
I’m a crap friend, and an even shittier boyfriend for questioning him the way I did. He hates being treated like he can’t handle his shit, and I basically jumped on him for doing what he needed to stay calm and present.
It dawns on me that I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hudson take one of his pills, and if that’s the case, what if that is why he was so trashed at Katie’s party? Can’t imagine his pills mix too well with alcohol.
The urgency to fix what I just fucked up hits me like a Mack truck. I head toward the couch where he and Ella were sitting, only to find they’re both gone.
And so is Heather.
Twenty-Three
Cullen
After nearly half an hour of searching, I found Hudson in the hot tub with Ella on his lap. He was already well and truly drunk, laughing and talking like he didn’t have a care in the world.
That girl, Heather, was perched on his other side, leaning across him to talk to Ella, who turned into a giggling mess anytime Heather said anything. I stayed in the shadow of the large outdoor fireplace, hoping to go unnoticed, but Archer caught me creeping and called me out.
Which is how I ended up in the human soup pot, wedged between Heather, who smells like roses and cheap vodka, and some guy who keeps side-eying Archer like he’s dessert. They’re sitting close together on the edge of the hot tub, having a quiet conversation, and Archer keeps blushing.Interesting.
Hudson won’t even glance my way, and everyone else is wrapped up in their own little worlds. I nudge his foot underwater with mine. He doesn't move at first, but then glances my way, cool and guarded. His eyes linger just long enough to tell me he’s not over it.
“I’m sorry,”I mouth, brushing my foot against his. I need the contact, and I need him to feel that I care, that I regret how I handled things. There were so many better ways I could’ve asked if he was okay.
Probably should’ve started with that. Hindsight, and all that.
But I’m learning.
He exhales, his smile small. The knot that’s been living in my chest loosens, and I can breathe again. I’ll talk to him properly later, but for now, it’s enough.
