Roughing It

26. Blakely

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

blakely

“Stay.”

My heart aches at the word. I’ve spent years building a new persona for myself. With hundreds of thousands of followers, my social media empire has been my escape, my rebirth. I’ve transformed myself from the poor, unloved, small-town girl into a confident, glamorous influencer, living a life others only dream of.

Except the truth of how hollow that life is has become increasingly apparent, and it’s thanks to Hudson.

He’s not a man you have a fleeting romance with—he’s a forever man.

I tense, my shoulders drawing up to my ears. Standing, I knock over my plate and coffee. “I, um, I need to use the restroom.” Then, like a rabbit, I bolt. Each step toward the dense thicket of trees has my heart pounding, my chest tightening. Once I’m a safe distance away, I bend over, holding my head between my knees, fighting for air and composure.

The ground rises to meet me, and I’m on my ass in the wet dirt and leaves. With shaky hands, I find my phone and dial the only person I can.

“BB! I’m going to see you in two days. Do you miss me so much you can’t wait?”

“Kirk.”

My voice breaks when I say his name, and he glances up. “Blakely? What’s wrong? Is it Brandee? Are you hurt?”

“No. Not Brandee. Am I hurt?” I pause. “Yes, but it’s my doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he asked me to stay.”

Kirk’s eyes widen. “He asked you to?—”

“Stay, but that’s the Hudson version of please move in with me.”

“What did you say?”

I blanch. “I told him I had to use the bathroom.”

Kirk winces in solidarity. “So he says stay, and you run for the trees?”

“Pretty much.” I flop onto my back, not carrying if I’m lying in muck and mud. “What do I do?”

“Do you love him?”

I don’t have to think about it. Yes.

Hudson with his adorable freckles on his rugged face. Hudson, grumpy and glaring while taking care of me. Teaching me. Seeing me, flaws and all—and returning for more. The lack of loneliness. The safe space to figure out who I might be. The nights spent in his arms, being loved by him, loving him.

“Yes, I love him,” I say, looking around as if speaking my feelings out loud might change them.

“Then, and I know this may sound like a wild idea, why don’t you stay?”

If I wasn’t already on my back, Kirk’s words would put me there.

“Don’t look so shocked, BB. Do you remember what I said when I left you there?”

At my nose wrinkle, he presses on. “I said this was going to be life-changing, and I hope it brings you whatever you’re searching for.” He sighs. “And forgive me for making assumptions, but he’s it.”

“Kirk, I can’t. My job. My life. It’s all in Austin.”

He fixes his eyes on me, discerning and knowing. “BB, what life?” At my wobbly lip, he softens his words. “What are you giving up? Fake friends like Mia—or worse, Ryan—who are with you for photo opportunities and brand collaborations. Nights spent in your apartment analyzing analytics, prepping posts, and responding to faceless comments. The occasional crashed holiday with Marcus and me.”

My eyes fill with tears, and I bite my lip, trying to fight the worry away.

“Hey, we adore having you, and you are welcome with us. There’s no question, but you only come because you’re lonely. Who do you have for yourself, BB?”

I want to argue that I have people. Buster. Sylvie. Except Buster and Sylvie have been saying they’re ready to move closer to their kids and grandkids for years. Are they staying because of me? Am I holding them back? Because they know the truth. Without them. Without Marcus and Kirk, I’m truly alone.

“I’m scared.” My eyes close as I whisper. The very real fears of change, failure, giving up what I’ve created—and ending up trapped in a small town of judgmental people—swirl in my stomach. What if things between Hudson and me crash like every other relationship I’ve ever had? My own mother couldn’t stand me. What are the odds Hudson will want me a decade, a year, even a month from now? Or worse, what if he loves me like I think he could, and it’s still not enough? That I’m so fundamentally broken, I can’t be happy.

Right alongside those are the fears of giving Hudson up and losing the potential future we could build together. A wonderful life so unlike my childhood, I almost can’t picture it.

An existence where I’m loved and wanted. Always.

“I’ll support you, whatever you choose, but you need to weigh it out. What’s it worth? The money, the status, versus the chance for a complete life. I love you, BB. And your staying won’t change that. You won’t lose me; you won’t lose Sylvie or Buster. But what will you gain?”

The call drops, but I don’t move from my sprawled spot on the forest floor. It isn’t until I hear Hudson, his footsteps so familiar to my ears, that I stir. Two large hands slide under my armpits, pulling me to sitting, then slip under my shirt, tracing patterns and soothing circles on my skin.

“You okay, baby?”

“No.” Tears burn my eyes before spilling down my cheeks. I turn into his touch, burying my face in his chest. It’s too much to think about—the idea of staying, everything Kirk said, the crushing weight of reality—so I snuggle into his arms and let the welcome comfort of his scent and warmth soothe me.

“Shhh. Breathe.” One of Hudson’s hands settles on my chest, applying pressure and forcing me out of my head. “It’s time for us to go back home.”

Without waiting for an answer, he gathers me into his arms and cradles me close. I don’t argue about being too heavy or the trek being too long. I drape my arms around his neck and let the tears fall.

In a desperate attempt to lighten the mood I ruined, I say, “I’m so tired of crying. At this rate, I’ll end up like a cornhusk doll. ”

Hudson grunts. Which I take to mean you’re hilarious, Blakely.

When we get to the cabin, Hudson carries me straight to the bathtub, never letting me go, even as he fiddles with the temperature. He adds my bath oils, salts, all the things I use. Only when he goes to remove his clothes does his grip loosen.

Giving him a small smile, my chest quivering as I try to steady my breathing, I undress. But even that moment apart, not touching, is too much. Desperation takes control, and I grab his hand, needing his skin on mine to ground me.

Hudson climbs into the oversized tub first, then helps me step in, guiding me between his legs. He draws my back to his chest, hugging me to his body. We stay this way, not talking, just touching each other, cuddling together in the warm water.

Eventually, Hudson shifts and sweeps my hair to the side, his lips pressing to the sensitive spot below my ear. “Tell me what happened.”

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

He sighs, but then says, “Alright. How about I wash your hair?”

God, this man.

Grabbing his hand, I bring it to my lips, kissing his knuckles, his joints, the tips of his fingers. The hint of his smile against my neck has me quivering. “Yes, please.”

With purposeful movements, Hudson undoes the twin braids running around the back of my head and shakes my hair loose. It falls in waves around my shoulders, and I groan when he tangles his hands in the strands, fingers digging into my scalp.

He reaches around me and grabs my shampoo. Nipping my ear, he says, “Remember when I used your shampoo, and you lost your shit? And saw me naked. ”

The heat of his chuckle against my neck has lust slithering through me and my pulse beating between my legs. But I can’t dull the pain with sex. Well, I can, but it won’t make the problem disappear.

I scoot down and hook my ankles over the lip of the tub, floating between his knees in the deep water. Once my hair is wet, Hudson helps me sit and lathers the shampoo into my tresses. His fingers massage my scalp and nape of my neck.

He cups water in his hands, rinses the suds, and then repeats his actions, finger-combing conditioner through my hair, working away the tangles and snarls. When he goes to rinse the conditioner, I stop him.

Rising to my knees, I twist so I’m straddling him. “My turn.”

Hudson nods and leans back against the tub, gripping my hips as I lean over him, dripping water on his head. “What are you going to do about all your gear?”

His closed eyes flutter open. “Hmm? Oh, the campsite shit? It’s fine. You’re more important.”

My heart seizes. “What if you came with me to Austin?”

Hudson stiffens. It feels like hours pass before he speaks. “Blakely, I can’t. I can’t be happy there. And I have obligations.”

“Obligations.” I huff out a mirthless laugh.

He grabs my hands and pulls me closer. “Yes, obligations. To my brothers. My parents. My business. The town.”

“And what about me?”

I want to scream. Even with this man who is my person, I don’t make the list. Will there ever be anyone who?—

“You mean more than everything, so don’t let that shit twist in your head.” Hudson grips my hips. “But it’s not practical. And I’m sorry for that.”

Another damn wave of tears falls against his cheeks and lips. “I’m sorry, too.”

“There are other ways?—”

I cut him off with a shh. Do we need to talk? Yes. But it hurts too much. So we stay quiet, holding each other until the bathwater turns cold.

DAY TWENTY-NINE

I blink open my swollen eyes, hoping I imagined the entire ill-fated end of our camping trip and bath from the night before. But the dull ache behind my eyes and heart tells me it’s all too real.

Hudson coming with me is a pipe dream. He has a life here, a far more fulfilling one than what I have in Austin. If I’m too scared to give up that sham, I can’t be mad that he won’t give up the idyllic world he has here.

One day.

Tomorrow, I go back to Austin. Back to my picture-perfect apartment. Loud parties. Louder people. An empty, lonely existence. And away from him.

The awful throbbing in my chest grows, and my lungs threaten to seize. Doing my best to fight the impending panic, I run my fingers through Hudson’s hair. Then, I trace the outline of his handsome features, memorizing the shape of his lips, the universe of freckles, the lines of his nose, and the arch of his brow.

It’s funny—not funny, haha, but funny strange—how he can simultaneously be the cause and solution to my pain.

Warm green eyes open at my touch. “Morning.”

“Good morning.” I brush my lips against his.

Before I can deepen the kiss, Hudson stills me, taking my arms in his large, rough hands. “About last night and tomorrow—we need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“There’s no more time.” Hudson sighs and drapes himself over me, his head burying into the curve of my neck. “We have to talk. About us. About tomorrow?—”

“No.” I need one last day of happy memories. “Let tomorrow be the day the real world comes knocking. Today is for us.” My throat is thick. “Please.”

Hudson sighs, but cups my cheek and presses his forehead to mine. “Why can’t I deny you anything? You say please, and I lose all sense.”

I pull him down, loving the weight of his body. He always holds his full weight back. Even so, the heft of his solid frame comforts me. He’s like a living weighted blanket. I wrap my legs around his hips and press as much of myself to him as I can, drinking in his outdoorsy scent, the warmth of his skin, the scrape of his beard, the feel of his corded, finely honed body.

“Is this how you want to spend the day? In bed? Because I’m okay with that,” he whispers against my neck, his teeth grazing against my skin.

“For now, yes. I want to hold you, for you to hold me.”

“What else do you want?” he asks as he kisses my collarbone.

What do I want? More time. Him. To love him and to have no doubts about staying here. To take a chance.

But rather than the truth, I say, “Your arms around me while the sun sets over the lake.” One last perfect memory with you.