Until You Loved Me (Silver Springs #3)(79)

She moved a bit closer. “You’re not going to accept my apology?”

“I’m going to buy a damn Toyota or Honda or whatever the hell you’ll drive so you won’t do that again.”

“You don’t have to buy another car, Hudson. I’ll drive the Porsche if that’s what you want, but if something happens to it, don’t get mad at me.”

“I was willing to take the risk! I told you that from the beginning.”

“Fine. You win.” She sat at the end of the couch and eyed his knee. “You’re hurt?”

“It’s nothing.”

“What happened?”

“Same old injury flaring up.”

“What causes it to do that?”

“I tweaked it today, playing with the boys.”

“Did you see Aaron?”

“Of course.”

“How was he?”

“Better than he’s been in a long while. I’m so glad the chemo’s done.”

“Good.” If Aaron was doing that well, last night really had been about Hudson’s childhood. But what aspect? What had triggered those intense emotions?

He said nothing and just continued to watch the fight.

“You look tired,” she told him, breaking the silence between them again.

“I am tired.”

“Have you had something to eat?”

“A bowl of cold cereal.”

“That’s a healthy choice.”

He reacted to her sarcasm by giving her a dirty look. “Someone went MIA, so I had to launch a massive search, which meant I was starving by the time I got to eat.”

Ellie felt bad that she’d put him to so much trouble, especially because she’d had dinner at a cute little restaurant in town three hours ago. “I brought you half a sandwich from the place where I ate. Should I go get it?”

“I’m fine. Glad to know you had a nice meal, though.”

She drew a deep breath. “So...are you going to continue to sulk—or will you let me make it up to you?”

He paused the TV. “By...”

“I could rub your knee, see if that would ease the pain.”

“My knee? No.”

“Because...”

He clicked the TV back on again. “Because I only want one thing—and that isn’t it.”

Stung—and more than a little surprised—Ellie straightened. “Right. Got it,” she said and walked out.

*

Closing his eyes, Hudson dropped his head on the back of the couch. Shit. Now he felt even worse than he had before. Ever since he’d heard from Samuel Jones, he hadn’t been himself.

He almost got up to apologize but stopped. He couldn’t allow himself to grow accustomed to having Ellie soothe away his aches and pains—as she had last night. He took care of himself, didn’t need anyone, and he was going to make sure that didn’t change. That terrible hour when he’d had no idea where she could be, whether she and the baby were safe, had reminded him what it felt like to lose someone, to be emotionally vulnerable—and he didn’t like it.

MMA was usually cathartic for him, especially when he was upset, but he couldn’t get interested in the fights. Between what he’d said to Ellie and what the PI had told him last night, he couldn’t concentrate on anything besides his own troubled thoughts.

He held out for another hour, tried to make himself leave things as they were. But as the minutes passed, he grew more and more afraid that she was packing her bags. And as much as he didn’t want to care about her giving up and going back to Miami, he did—and not just because of the baby.

A few minutes later, he stopped trying to resist and went to her room.

“Ellie?” he called as he knocked on her door.

“What?” she replied without opening it.

“You’re not going to leave now, are you?”

“I won’t walk that far again. I already told you.”

“I mean, you’re not going back to Miami.”

There was a slight pause. Then she said, “Do you want me to?”

“No.”

She said nothing.

“Sorry I was such a dick,” he added. “It’s been a bad couple of days.”

“Forget about it.”

“Okay.” Still not completely reassured, he scratched his head as he tried to come up with something else to say. “Thanks for understanding.”

When she didn’t come to the door, he went down the hall to his own room—and paced there for the next several minutes. He’d apologized, but he still felt unsettled. He’d lived alone for years—had to fend for himself since the second he’d turned eighteen. Maybe that was why, now that he had someone else living in his house, he couldn’t quit obsessing about her, couldn’t quit wondering what she was doing.

She was probably reading, he told himself. She liked to read. But that meant she could be in her room, content on her own, for hours and hours. It was possible she wouldn’t come out for the rest of the evening.

He hated that thought, wanted a second chance to be better company. Last night had been the lowest he’d been in a long time. He wasn’t sure what he would’ve done without her—and it wasn’t just the distraction she posed. It was the comfort she’d offered. He could use a little more of that comfort, despite what he’d told her. So, after turning on the TV and flipping through the channels without really seeing anything, he went back to her door.