Hudson’s hands curled around the back of my neck and he dragged his hand through my hair, massaged my neck and scalp while I gathered myself.
“Take all the time you need.”
“I don’t know where to start.”
Eventually, with our reflection shining in the open windows and flickers of city lights coming from beyond them, I found the starting point.
“Josh always had a big problem with alcohol. He went to rehab at least three times while he was still in high school, once in college. My dad did everything he could to hide it because Josh was so well known for football.”
It’d been so long since I’d talked about him, years since I’d ever told this story, just saying his name sent a pang of grief to my chest.
That hand of his continued running through my hair, soothing me, calming my racing heart and my jagged nerves.
“Dad beat us. Well, not me, but he used to beat Mom.” My voice was dry and scratchy. My throat burned as I spoke truths I’d always been so afraid to share. “I think the first time Dad hit Josh was when he was ten. Dad had slapped Mom in the living room after we were supposed to be in bed, but we’d snuck down for some water. Josh ran to Mom to block her and Dad punched him in the stomach.”
I squeezed my eyes closed to stave off the memory, the cry of Josh’s pain that had sliced through the home, making me tremble on the stairs where I’d stayed out of sight. A choked cry escaped me, and I dug my fingers into Hudson’s thigh as I relived that moment. Almost twenty years and I would never forget the sound of my older brother crying and screaming out in pain.
“Did he—?”
“No.” I burrowed deeper into Hudson’s hold and he dropped his arm, pulling me even tighter against him. His weight was a warm blanket as I said, “Dad never hit me, he just didn’t ever like me all that much. But Josh—Josh was special. Did you know he went to college on a full-ride?”
He hesitated and then said, “Tell me.”
“Top ten. He was the best, one of the best in the entire country. Anyway, we protected each other, Josh and me. He protected me, promised he’d come get me if I needed him to. That was why he went to college in Chicago when he could have gone to Alabama or Clemson. He stayed close to home for me. Even if he never said it, I knew it was why.” A football-sized lump grew in my throat. It was always Josh and me.
“It wasn’t the first time he’d come to get me from a party, but that night I called Josh because there’d been this guy there. He was a dick and he wouldn’t leave me alone. Kendra and I kept trying to avoid him, but he kept following us. I went to the bathroom, and when I came out, he was waiting for me…”
A shiver rolled down my spine. There were many nights after I was sentenced I remembered that moment. That paralyzing fear when I realized Billy had me caged in right outside the bathroom.
“Did he hurt you?” Hudson’s hand stalled in my hair and then curled around my shoulder. “Lilly.”
“No.” I shook my head and for the first time since I’d started talking, glanced at Hudson.
His square jaw was hard. Eyes narrowed. Anger pulsed off him and I shook my head again. “No. He didn’t hurt me. He tried, started to, but a couple came out of the bedroom across from us, bumped into him, and he fell down. I ran back to the kitchen and texted Josh.”
“And Josh came.”
A large ball of emotions lodge in my throat. And he came. Hudson made it sound so simple, but I’d had other options that night. Kendra and I could have left. We could have talked to our friends. I didn’t have to call Josh, it was just my instinct when I needed help.
Guilt and regret and remorse pummeled my veins, making my skin feel tight.
“Yeah, but I didn’t know he’d been drinking, partying with his own football buddies on campus and it took him an hour to get to me. When he did, he went on same crazy rage, beat the guy I told him about until he was a bloody mess. And then he said he needed a drink to calm down. I had one with him—it’d been my only drink in hours, and I didn’t know—”
Tears fell down my cheeks faster than I could shove them away.
“Stay here,” Hudson murmured and uncurled himself from his spot on the couch. I watched him go, wondering if he was going to leave me and escape while he could, but he went to the bathroom and returned with a box of tissues.
He sat back down on the couch and before I could curl into him, he pulled me onto his lap. I collapsed against him like I’d done it a thousand times. God. He was so damn good.
“Here.” He placed the box of tissues on my lap and I hugged them to my stomach while I blotted my eyes and blew my nose.
“Sorry.” I laughed. How gross.
Hudson just took the tissue and tossed it to the table before he handed me a fresh one.
I’d come this far. I needed to finish this. I needed someone other than a girl I’d probably never see again to know everything.
“It was April, but we’d had a late spring snowstorm. The roads were icy and slushy. I woke up, after the crash and I was alone in his truck. The last thing I remember is climbing into the driver’s seat and seeing Josh. He rarely wore his seat belt, and he wasn’t in the car when I came to the first time. But the glass was shattered and he was there—lying in snow and leaves and all that blood. So much blood.”
Hudson wrapped his arms around me, pulled me tight against his chest and held me while I cried. I cried for the first time in years, I cried tears of pain I’d long since thought were gone and tears of shame for what I allowed to happen.
“Dad was right. The last thing he said to me was that I killed Josh. That it was my fault, and he’s right.”
Hands at my scalp dug in. “No. Your dad is an asshole and he’s absolutely wrong, Lilly. It was an accident. And Josh should have been able to get the help he needed. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s your dad’s.”
He was wrong. He still didn’t get it. Had I not promised Josh. Had I not called him… I could have found another ride. I could have gone to a friend and stayed with someone that night. I could have done a hundred things that didn’t involve Josh knowing how protective he was of me.
Still, I clung to Hudson’s strength and his warmth and I cried until I collected myself, using more tissues than I’d ever used in one sitting and when I pulled back, my eyes were dry and probably bloodshot. But inside, relief was flickering and growing. Baring all of that to him was draining, so exhausting, and yet, I already felt different.
Lighter somehow.
I sniffed and crumpled my mess of tissues in my fist.
“I woke up again in the hospital and Dad was there. He was pissed. At me. I tried to tell him what happened, but he told me if I didn’t say it was my fault, that he’d kick me out with nothing. He said if I took the fall, I’d get community service, a slap on the wrist, but if Josh did, it’d ruin everything for him. And he’d saved me—”
“He always saved you.”
“It was my turn to help him.”
“Lilly—”
“So I did. And then two days later Josh died and because Dad might be able to get his daughter off with a drunk driving charge, once Josh died there was no way he could reduce the vehicular manslaughter, or reckless homicide. The fact I had alcohol in me and killed a family member made it an immediate Class 2 felony. I mean, Dad could have done something to help at that point. I’m sure he could have done something. But he was a judge and ran on being tough on crime.”