Laurelin Paige - Hudson

Now, there was nowhere to hide. She saw.

She shifted, angling her knees toward me, and patted me once on the thigh. “Here’s what I think, and go ahead and bitch at me if it’s not what you want to hear. I think this is a phase you’re going through. It’s something you have to try. I get that. But you’re going to realize that you can’t stay away. The game isn’t just what you do; it’s who you are. So go ahead and do this, this therapy thing. And when you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

Years ago, when I’d first accepted her request to teach her the game, I’d thought the same thing about her. That she was going through a phase. That she’d abandon me after she got bored.

She’d surprised me when she stuck with it, much as she surprised me now.

“You might be waiting a long time,” I said. “Full disclosure here.”

“We’ll see.”

I swallowed. “Then you’re going to keep playing?”

“I think I am. Is that all right?”

Not really. “I said it was. I’m not your keeper.” Selfishly, I wanted her to quit as well. How much easier would it be to have a companion on the road to recovery? Was that even possible, for two addicts to be helpful to each other?

She must have sensed that I wasn’t being entirely truthful. “What do you want me to do, Hudson?”

If I was really going through with this, really going to make an actual effort to be less manipulative and more sympathetic, then I had to start with Celia. “I want you to do what’s best for you. For once. Honestly.”

“Then I’m still playing.” She smiled. “And don’t be surprised if I try to tempt you back to my ways.”

“Hey, that wasn’t part of the deal.”

She batted her lashes, feigning innocence. “You said you wanted what was best for me.” Then she grew serious. “Best for me is to have you with me, Hudson. With me in the game, I mean. You’ve said I can’t have that. But I have to keep trying.”

So along with my own temptations, I’d have to battle Celia’s enticement as well? Goddamn consequences. “That’s fair, I suppose.”

“Is it?”

“Does it matter if it is or isn’t? You’ll go after what you want either way.”

“True.” She smirked. “And you just said you want me to have what I want.”

We were talking in circles, and it was exhausting. I’d thought for sure that seeing Celia would make me want to play again. Strangely, it hadn’t. Instead, I saw how desperate and futile the experiments were. Here we were after all of our games, and with all the data and experience we’d collected, all we had between us was the next play. It wasn’t sustainable. It wasn’t—to use my own words—real.

Our relationship had to change. I saw that now. I’d said I wouldn’t quit our friendship, but I didn’t say to what extent I’d remain in contact. It would have to be limited, I realized. Family and business gatherings. Places where we couldn’t talk and scheme. It wasn’t only me I was protecting. Maybe, if we didn’t see each other very often, maybe Celia would quit too.

Okay, I wasn’t trying to save her, but wouldn’t it be admirable if I did? Stripped of my superpowers, I was grasping for something—anything—to make me special rather than just an epic asshole.

Spending more time with Celia wasn’t going to help with that. “I have to go, Ceely.” I stood then turned to face her. “But, yes, I do want you to have what you want. I hope that someday you want something different than this.”

She followed me, getting to her feet. “How patronizing.”

I sighed. “I’m not trying to patronize. I’m trying to be honest.”

“If we’re being honest, can I ask something?”

“Sure.”

She tapped her French-tipped nail against her chin. “Would blackmail work? To keep you playing, I mean.”

A chill ran down my spine. I was stunned by her suggestion. Shocked. More than a little pissed. “Well, that really is honest, isn’t it?” I eyed her carefully, looking for a sign that she might be bluffing. She did know my secrets, but would she really threaten to use them against me?

I saw none of her usual tells. While I felt a smidgeon of pride—oh, I’d taught her well—I mostly felt challenged. And I didn’t like to be challenged, therapy or not. “I believe I have as much on you, Celia, as you could have on me.”

A satisfactory smile slid across her lips. “Then we’re agreed—our secrets are safe?”

“As long as it’s mutual, then my lips are sealed.”

“Then mine are too.”

I left her apartment with more clarity than when I’d arrived. As much as I shouldn’t engage with Celia Werner any further, I knew now that I could never cut her completely from my life. For one, I wasn’t certain if she was actually a friend or a foe. And there was that old adage about keeping friends close and enemies closer.

But there was another thing—without the game, losing Celia would leave me entirely alone. And loneliness was one emotion I most desperately didn’t want to learn.

After

Simply making the decision to tell Alayna the truth takes away a good portion of my fear. I no longer have to debate and war with myself. I no longer have to hide, and I’m anxious to be with her again. So when I wrap up my business in L.A. earlier than I expected, I decide to fly back and surprise the woman I love. Yes, it means my secret will be exposed sooner than if I hadn’t pulled my weight to get my meetings scheduled on a Sunday, aka “off hours,” but I’m ready.

What I’m not ready for is the greeting that meets me when I arrive at The Sky Launch later that evening. I’d known she’d be here for David’s going away party, and, eager to see her, I headed straight over after landing. It had taken a few minutes to find her. She wasn’t with the rest of the guests who were mostly mingling by the bar and on the dance floor.

Instead, she’s tucked away in a corner. But she is dancing. Slow dancing. In David’s arms.

I watch them, mesmerized, unable to look away like is often the case when met with something horrible. Neither of them notice me, and from my vantage, I can’t see Alayna’s face. But I can see David’s. His eyes are closed, but his expression is tender and forlorn. He seems to be whispering into her ear—singing perhaps. If I ever doubted that he had feelings for her, I don’t now.

It’s simply a dance, I tell myself. Then he’s going away. It’s likely her way of saying goodbye. If I were a different man, I’d give them privacy.

But I’m not a different man. I’m this one. And I’m thoroughly possessive. So I’m still watching when they stop moving and make eye contact. And I see when he leans forward and kisses her.

It’s a moment of revelation. The first moment I feel absolute pain. There’s a wave of panic, accompanied by this crushing weight against my chest. It takes away all ability to move. All ability to breathe.

She pushes him away, and I should be grateful. But I’m still caught in the before. It replays in my head as if on constant repeat—her in his arms, his mouth against hers. Against the mouth that is mine. He doesn’t love her like I do. He can’t. It’s impossible. His feelings are small and inconsequential compared to the immense affection for her that travels through my body with one beat of my heart. He would have never let her go if he felt how I do.

And now another new emotion—I want to hurt David. I want him dead. For daring to touch the woman that doesn’t belong to him. For attempting to steal what is so very clearly mine. My hands are fists at my side, and I’m imagining the ways I want to punish him, ways that can never equate to the pain I feel inside.

And her…

The betrayal is really hers, but I don’t want to hurt her. I want to pull her into me, into my very soul, so that she can see how I feel about her, see how this rips me up. Tie her to me so completely that she can’t ever be out of my control. This was why I sent David away in the first place. This is why I hold on to her as tightly as I do. This is why I doubt her when she says she means forever. If she can wound me like this now, then how easily will she leave me when it’s warranted?

It’s a fragment of my greatest fear realized—she loves me, but she doesn’t love me enough.

I’m barely aware of when they discover my presence. I hear her say my name. Hear her tell me that it’s not what it looks like.

It doesn’t matter what it looks like. I know exactly what it is—it’s the worst moment of my life so far. And I know it’s only the beginning.

“Maybe we should discuss this in a more private setting,” I manage. She agrees, and painful minutes later, we’re alone in the employee office.

“He kissed me, Hudson. I didn’t kiss him. And when he did, I pushed him away.” The regret of her action is in her face and her voice.

Yet the pain rages on. “Why were you in his arms in the first place?”

“We were dancing. It was a party.”

“You were in his arms, Alayna. In the arms of someone who has made no secret of his feelings for you. What did you think he’d do?” I don’t mean to be this angry. I am fully aware that this is minor in the scheme of ways that I’ve betrayed her.

But it doesn’t change how I feel. My inexperience with this emotion rules how I behave.

“It was innocent,” she insists. “I needed someone. He was here. And you weren’t.” Her expression changes, and her words grow bitter. “Where were you today, anyway? When I needed you?”

I was fucking saving her from Celia, that’s where I was. My own bitterness shows in my words. “What was it you needed, Alayna? Someone to keep you warm?”

She presses her lips together. “That hurts.”

“What I just witnessed hurts.” I sound cruel. It’s not the reunion I wanted. There’s so much we need to be talking about, and we’re stuck on this. Perhaps I’m grasping on to it so I don’t have to say the other words. The ones that will hurt her even more.

She’s equally unkind. “Yeah, I know how it feels.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, I do. Let me see if I can explain it. It feels like your gut has been wrenched out of your body. At least that’s what it felt like when Celia told me that you’d been fucking her for most of the time we’ve been together.”

I’m caught off guard by her words. “What?” This is new, and all of a sudden, I’m worried that I’ve missed something. “When did she say that?”

She tells me.

“You saw her today?” Earlier, before I’d boarded my plane, I’d checked my voicemail and discovered a message from Celia. I’d deleted it. It was something about her lawyer and Alayna. Since I’d had no messages from Jordan or Reynold, I’d figured it was another attempt to rile me up over nothing. I ask Alayna about it now.

She explains that she’d snuck away for coffee. That she’d taken her computer. That she’d encountered Celia. David becomes a conversation for later. I’m instantly concerned about this—what Celia did. What Celia said.

I’m tense throughout her recounting of the event, but I try to maintain my temper. It’s especially hard when Alayna admits that she’s the one who approached Celia. After all I’ve done to keep them apart, this is hard to hear. It’s as if Alayna’s working purposefully against me, undermining my attempts to protect our relationship. Of course, she has no idea that she’s doing it.

“Then she said that you were together,” Alayna says finally. “That you were a couple. That you fucked her that night, and it wasn’t the first time, and it wasn’t the last.”

“And you believed her?” It’s a blatant lie, of course. While it’s not the most horrid thing that Celia could say, it’s another straw on the heap of anger I feel toward her.

Alayna straightens proudly. “It pissed me off enough that I punched her.”

“You punched her?”

Alayna stiffens. “You know what? Keep acting like this is an interrogation, and I’m out of here.” Apparently, shock wasn’t the right response.

Honestly, besides shock, I don’t know what I’m feeling at the moment. That’s not true. I do know. I’m mad. Mad at Celia. Mad that Alayna let Celia get to her. Mad that she got herself in a situation where Celia could have hurt her.

But my anger is out of worry. And I don’t want to be mad at Alayna.

I walk the room as I shove my hands through my hair, trying to calm down. When I’m as in control as I think I’ll get, I stop and face her. “I’m sorry if I sound a bit tense, Alayna. I assure you it’s only out of concern for you.”