Right.
I’m suddenly thinking Ziggy might have been right about their relationship. Hudson has never been great at picking men because they all end up treating him like trash. But I’ve never been great at picking menorwomen because the second I show interest, they ghost me, so maybe Hudson’s had the right idea all along. His partners might be repulsive, but at least they’re never repulsedbyhim.
Based on my past experiences, his interest should turn Wilde off, but considering the man drove four hours out of his way to drag Hudson back here, I’m getting the creeping suspicion that isn’t happening.
That Hudson and Wilde are … an actual couple.
The only thing I can hope for is that Wilde took our talk to heart and is actually treating my brother right.
Meanwhile, there’s a small, bitter seed in my chest that I wasn’t the one who came out here and miraculously found a mountain man to love me. Surely there’s an attention-starved recluse who’d find my brand of love sweet rather than suffocating.
I groan at the pathetic thoughts.
“Is Ziggy coming today?” Hudson asks, getting us back on track with work. “We really need this wiring done before we can do anything else to house two.”
“Dunno.” Then, I jokingly add, “Didn’t say.”
“Funny,” Hart says dryly. “I wonder why he’s like that.”
“You? Actually interested in something?” Hudson throws back.
“I never said I was interested, but it’s normal to question why. The guy can talk. He just … won’t.”
“That’s his business,” I remind them before they can get mean. I’d like to think the conversation wouldn’t lead to that, but you never can tell. Hudson can be a real asshole when he’s feeling hurt, and Hart mostly says shit for shock value and reactions, like he has zero attachment to the words coming out of his mouth.
Whether this is natural curiosity or them mocking him, I want to end it before it can get started.
Ziggy is willingly helping us out, and we owe him big-time for that.
“Of course it’s his business,” Hartwell says like it’s obvious. “But it’s not normal.”
“Hey—”
“Shut up, I don’t mean that in a bad way. I’m pointing out that there has to be a reason why he doesn’t speak.”
I grunt, not comfortable talking about him when he’s not here. “Why would he talk when you’re proof that most of what people say is fucked-up?”
“Why are you so protective of him?” Hudson asks through a laugh. “You have been since the day he showed up here.”
“It’s called being nice. I realize you need that pointed out to you.” Which really isn’tniceof me to say, but I want them to let it drop before the teasing starts.
“Maybe you’re in luuuurve.”
And there it is. It’s ridiculous that I can’t even be friends with someone without them resorting to this, but considering my history with people, I can’t blame them either. “No. I’m not.”
“Sure about that?”
Considering Ziggy is maybe the first and only person I’ve met where I didn’t immediately check them out and test for interest, I’m sure. Ever since we met, this deep need to protect him has taken over me. “I barely know anything about him.”
“And how much did you know about Ryan after one date and a night of sex, when you texted us to clear our schedules so we could meet him?”
“Maybe if you’d cleared your schedules, we would have worked out.”
“Or maybe youstillwould have gone over the next day to find him screwing someone else.”
It’s hard to be angry about that anymore. After a week of heartache and working myself to exhaustion, then a weekend of drinking with them both, I was able to set aside some of the hurt.
For me, dating means giving things a real go and focusing on the one person you’re seeing. If you have split focus, how can you ever know if you’re meant to be?
