Page 30 of The Sweetest Cruelty: Hudson (A Sawyer Brothers Story #1)

I re-read the texts from my friend Cassius.

He was a sweet guy. We had been in the same class since primary school.

If I had stayed in the UK, I imagine we’d have started dating, just as my friends had always predicted we would.

Cassius Chambers was tall, blonde, and beautiful, and we shared similar colouring.

Everyone said we looked like the perfect couple and were well matched, like Barbie and Ken.

I’d taken those comments with a pinch of salt.

I loved Cassius, but I had doubted I would ever have fallen in love with him.

We were too close growing up and knew each other’s secrets.

I was a firm believer in keeping some things sacred.

Surely, no mystery in a relationship equals no excitement.

I stopped those thoughts of Hudson seeping back into my tired brain.

Things with him were stacked too far the other way, and he was way too mysterious.

Oh, to have a happy balance somewhere. I hated all or nothing.

I typed a reply to Cass’s, I miss you .

Miss you too. Maybe you could fly out and visit me at some point. Dad’s house has a spare room?

A ‘Cassius is typing…’ icon appeared, and I waited. Or we could share yours? Always so cheeky. His comment made me smile.

Nice try. I typed back .

The lump in my throat thickened as I scrolled to Hudson’s texts. Why aren’t you in school? Are you ditching, or sick after swallowing rank pool water?

I ignored him. I couldn’t imagine that he was genuinely worried about me.

We need to talk. I’ll find you after seventh period tomorrow. Assuming you show up at all. What would the principal say? I had already decided to go to school the following day. My mother wouldn’t have wanted me rotting in my room and missing important lessons.

Hudson Gage, (or Sawyer, whatever ) could have been a pleasant distraction from my grief, if only he stopped behaving like such a dick.

He’d saved my life, but my feelings towards him were still mixed.

And I don’t mean the attraction side of things, that still burned like a fricking inferno.

The confusion lay in what type of person he was.

I wondered if my assumptions about him were correct.

Was there a good guy in there, trying to get out, or was he a bastard to the bone?

I so wanted to bury the hatchet, but I had no idea how to do that, considering he was the one who started the hostility between us and why?

Because I was my dad’s daughter? I had decided that was a rubbish reason.

I shouldn’t like him half as much as I did, considering how petty his vendetta against me was.

Maybe my father was an absolute shit to him and made his life hell? There had to be more to it. I thought about what he had said about his parents. His mother was dead, and his father was in prison. Hudson’s backstory was one I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the details of.

Shit. My life was already a mess, did I want to complicate things by involving myself with a boy who was as screwed up as I was?

I needed to keep the Hudson Gages of this world at arm’s length until I found my feet in a place which was still so new to me.

The sound of the front door opening and closing signalled that my father had arrived home from work, and I checked the time on my phone. It was just after six.

“I’m home, sweetie,” Dad yelled from the bottom of the stairs, and I shouted a hello through my open doorway.

As I checked myself in the floor-length mirror, I toyed with asking my father about Hudson. Maybe he could shed some light on why he held so much animosity towards him.

Juggling the pros and cons of the idea around my head, I brushed my long blonde hair.

It tended to curl at the ends, which I’d always found annoying, and I couldn’t find my straighteners, but I left it down anyway.

Scraping my hair into a ponytail wouldn’t be good for that recurring headache I’d had all afternoon. I knew it was grief-induced.

Taking a deep breath, I swept a glance around my bedroom. I’d spent two days in there like a hermit. Through the windows, I could see that the sun was still shining. Maybe a walk in the fresh air would do me good? I needed relief from all the memories rolling around in my head.

Throwing my brush onto my bed, I rescanned my appearance.

I was wearing denim cut-offs and a pale blue camisole top from Target.

The colour matched my eyes. It was tight but comfortable.

Fuck my legs were pale. Adding a bit of blush to my sallow cheeks and a smidge of lip gloss, I pulled on my Converse before heading down to see my father.

“Hi, honey. How are you feeling?” Dad said as I came to the bottom of the stairs with a head tilt, his expression one of concern. He was in the hallway, sorting through some letters on the table where he usually left his car keys. He looked tired, and I felt a wave of guilt.

“I’m OK. I think the break did me good. Are you alright?” I asked, noticing how he was studying one of the envelopes.

“Dad?” I repeated when he remained silent. My prompt worked, and he lowered the letter and glanced back at me.

With a shake of his head, he replied. “Sorry. Yes. A few issues at school, but nothing to worry about. You look nice. Are you off out?” I loved his accent, which was much more interesting than my own.

Issues?

I wondered if one of those issues was boy-shaped, but didn’t mention anything. Bringing up a discussion about Hudson wasn’t a good idea, as it would suggest that I had some interest in him. And, of course, I did, but I didn’t want my father to know that.

I explained that I’d decided to go for a walk, and his expression suggested he thought it a good idea.

“Why don’t you walk around the park? The closest is the one just behind Langs.

It’s usually buzzing around this time,” my father suggested with a warm smile, placing the mail back on the table.

Langs was the bowling alley Dad had taken me to eat a few times.

The place I had seen Harper and her friends .

“Dinner is at eight. I’m cooking, but don’t get too excited,” he said. I wouldn’t. I still hadn’t got my head around my father’s homemade meatloaf. Was it supposed to be chewy?

“I’m sure it will be fine. Look, maybe I should cook for us more?

Earn my keep,” I added, purposefully putting some effort in.

Yes, Dad had left us, but he wasn’t to blame.

I knew now that things had never been quite right between my parents.

Richard may not have been a perfect husband to Rachel, but he was my father and was trying to be a good parent.

I needed to be more grateful and meet him halfway.

He grinned, “Enjoy the sunshine. See you later. Do you need any money?”

“No, I’m good. I’ll be back before eight.”

Dad did a weird ruffle of my hair with his hand and then walked off towards the kitchen. That meant I had to recheck the mess he had caused in the mirror by the door. Men didn’t get how precious we girls were about our hair. I wasn’t overly vain, but I needed to feel neat.

I checked that my new bank card was tucked into my phone case before sliding it into my back pocket.

Dad had now set up an account for me. There was a savings section where the last of Mum’s money had been transferred, and my father had given me a weekly allowance.

I had decided to use some of the money to start driving lessons.

In Rhode Island, you could start learning as early as sixteen, and I couldn’t wait to get my learning permit.

In some states, you could apply for one as young as fourteen.

Stepping out into the sunshine, I stretched my arms over my head and rolled my neck around. My body felt stiff from too much sitting and doing nothing.

Our street was leafy with houses on both sides of the road.

They were all large, double-storeyed, and built from wood.

Most had a garage and driveway, and all had grassed front lawns.

The gardens boasted a mixture of beautiful flowers, almost like the neighbours competed over having the nicest lawn.

I thought back to our house and that my dad had little to no plants.

Maybe I could help with that and make it prettier.

I’d loved gardening with my mother. Everything was so different from the way it was back home.

Thoughts of home had tears burning the back of my throat.

This is home now.

Occasionally, a car drove past, but it was quiet. A few kids were playing in the street, and some neighbours were watering their grass. I smiled as people greeted me and enjoyed their friendliness .

As I got to the bowling alley, I saw the park my father told me about behind the building.

Pulling out my phone, I shot off a few replies to my friends back in the UK and re-read Hudson’s message about waiting for me after my last class.

The thought made me nervous, and I wondered what he wanted to speak with me about.

Maybe he would apologise for being a dick.

Or maybe he wanted to call in his favour?

The latter was the most likely scenario.

“Molly!” a voice shouted, dragging my focus off my phone. I turned and glanced to where the sound had come from. Squinting against the sun, I raised a hand to my brow and gazed across at the car park.

It was Harper Radcliffe. She was waving me over. Shit. I wasn’t in the mood to be sociable. Forcing a smile, I pushed my phone into my pocket and walked over. I didn’t want to appear rude.

She wore a green baggy jumper which fell off one shoulder slightly and jeans, her bright hair shone in the sunlight.

She was standing next to a parked white SUV.

It was an expensive-looking vehicle with blacked-out windows.

She was talking to a tall slim boy with dark hair.

I recognised him from the arcade that night.