Page 55 of The Sweetest Cruelty: Hudson (A Sawyer Brothers Story #1)

“I’m sorry. About your mom,” Hudson said as we hit the freeway. “I know she passed away recently.”

Those feelings I usually experienced when my dad brought her up resurfaced, but this time, it didn’t feel as difficult to talk.

Maybe that was due to Hudson being neutral.

He’d never met my mother, didn’t know anything about her.

Well, apart from the story that she left my father and me.

And she did. Just not in the way people thought.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“We don’t need to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable,” he said. “If you want, we could just park up and make out?” Hudson added with a cocky grin.

I chuckled and turned to look out of the window, appreciating his attempt to break the ice. We were crossing the water, the sun bouncing off the sea. It was so beautiful and fresh.

After a deep breath, I began to talk openly about my mother’s death; how it happened, the anger, the guilt, and he understood. For the first time since it happened, I could speak to someone who had experienced a similar type of pain.

Hudson was so attentive and listened to every word; any questions were soft and unintrusive, and I felt a slight sense of calm at that moment.

After a few settled minutes of contemplation, the conversation naturally changed direction. “Are the guys still there?” I questioned as Hudson glanced in the rearview mirror with a frown.

He nodded, “Yeah. About four cars behind, though. Reed drives like an old lady.”

I grinned, and Hudson grinned back. I noticed he got dimples when he smiled. I hadn’t seen them before, but that’s probably because he didn’t smile much.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said with a sigh, dropping a hand from the steering wheel to fiddle with the air vents.

“Me too,” I replied, lifting the neck of my gym top off my skin, and wafting it. Boy, it was hot. I was glad I’d changed into gym gear and wasn’t wearing my school shirt.

“I know. It’s boiling in here. You could always take your top off?”

“Nice.”

Considering where we were going, he was in high spirits.

With a mischievous look, Hudson rubbed the back of his neck and said his go-to comment after attempting smut.

“ Can’t blame a guy for trying.” How could God have created such a fine male specimen of a man and then hand his soul to such a cheeky devil?

I wondered what he’d do if I did take my top off. Probably crash the car.

He gripped the wheel again, his knuckles turning white.

“How do you feel?” I asked, changing the subject to something more appropriate.

Dashing a hand across his nose, he replied. “I’m not sure. Anxious, I suppose. But I should be OK. I took a double dose.”

Hudson, admitting he took medication, surprised me.

“Have you taken tablets for long?”

“Since I was fifteen. I’ve been trying to cut down, but since I got the letter about my old man, I had to put those plans on hold.”

“Have you ever tried any other types of remedy?”

“Like what?” he asked, clearing his throat.

“I don’t know. Stuff that relaxes you.”

“Is that your way of asking me if I get myself off regularly?” Again, with the smutty comments. I realised it was probably his coping method, like Chandler from Friends, who used humour to protect himself.

“Hudson?” I said, turning in my seat, the belt digging in between my breasts.

“Yeah. I’ve tried other stuff. Punching the shit out of stuff helps too as does checking out your tits in that top.” He flicked me a look, his eyes dropping to said area.

I laughed and shook my head. “When did you decide to stop hating me?”

His brow wrinkled, and he took a moment to reply. “I never hated you, Molly. Not really.”

“But you hate my dad?”

I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. I knew I was entering a territory where we may not agree, but I needed to know.

“No. I don’t think I hate him either. It’s what he represents that I struggle with.”

We then spoke of our childhoods, Hudson glossing over the harder parts. He explained his issues with authority and how that made him feel. He became more animated when he spoke about his grandparents and their holidays on a small island close by called Block Island.

About thirty minutes into the journey, we got stuck in traffic, the car crawling along, so we stopped at a Wendy’s drive-through.

I’d already tried their breakfast that day at the mall with Harper.

We both had a hamburger and it was delicious.

Hudson even paid for it, which made me feel like we were on a date.

Eventually, we arrived at the gates of the prison.

The sign said, Rhode Island Department of Corrections, Maximum Security.

The place was bleak as expected, with high grey walls and matching buildings. We eventually got parked next to Reed’s Jeep. Hudson was mentally preparing to enter the building and collect his father’s belongings.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” I asked.

“Absolutely, not. You don’t belong in there, Molly. It’s an all-male prison for a start.”

Pursing my lips, I asked. “And you do?”

He gave me a doleful smile, “Whilst I don’t want to burst your image of me as an upstanding guy. I have been detained in the past.”

His candour pleased me, but I didn’t retaliate. I recognised Hudson’s attempts to put himself down. To make himself out to be the monster.

He nudged me with his elbow. “That doesn’t bother you?”

Uncrossing my legs, I pulled my bag onto my lap. “No. What were you in for?” Please don’t say you beat someone to death, my insides chanted.

“GTA,” Hudson said.

When I gave him a blank look, he explained. “Grand Theft Auto. Stealing cars.”

“Oh. OK,” I chuckled nervously, glancing around the messy cab of his truck.

“I didn’t steal this one, in case you were wondering.”

We sat in our seats, coaching ourselves through what to expect, when Phoenix banged his fist on the window by my head.

“Some of us need to piss you know,” he grumbled through the glass.

I tutted, waving him away with my hand, and turned to Hudson.

“Are you ready?”

“I suppose. Let’s do this shit,” he replied, climbing out of the truck.

I went to wait with the others, and we watched him disappear into the building.

Harper was inside Reed’s Jeep on the backseat with the window down, and the boys were leaning against the truck, looking extremely bored.

“Do you think I’ll get arrested if I take a whizz here?” Micah suddenly said, adjusting himself in his jeans.

“You take a piss near this car, you die. End of,” Reed warned, glaring across at his brother .

“You’re so protective of your baby, aren’t you? You should see how Phoenix drives it.”

“Shut it,” Nix warned with a huff. Talk about boys and their toys.

“You good, Molly?” Harper suddenly said, sticking her head out of the window.

“Yeah. Fine. You?”

“Yes,” she squeaked.

“So, tell her then,” Phoenix said, pushing off the truck and dragging open the door.

“Bethany made it official,” she said, jumping down and shooting Nix a dirty look. “God, that feels good,” Harper added, stretching her legs. “I’m on permanent foster with the Sawyers.”

“That’s great news, Harper.”

She then started stretching out all her muscles.

I felt so pleased for her but before I could say anything else, the big guy butted in.

“We’ve been in the car a half an hour, Harper. You’re such a pussy,” Nix muttered grumpily before going to sit on the wall beside us.

“Says the guy who was complaining about space the entire journey,” Reed snorted.

Phoenix grunted. “I have to bend myself in half to fit in the back of your car, jackass.”

“You should have called shotgun sooner,” Micah mumbled.

“Fucking stupid hair stylist’s car,” Nix added, waving towards the Jeep.

I didn’t hear how Reed retaliated to the belittling of his wheels. I knew boys took that shit seriously. I grabbed Harper’s arm and moved to the side. “So, you must feel better about that. You can settle. No more talks of you know what?”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

“Speak up, we can’t hear you if you whisper,” Phoenix grunted moodily.

“That’s kind of the point,” Harper bit back.

“Save me from fucking bitches.”

“What about living with four smelly boys?”

“I heard that,” Micah stated, lifting his arms and sniffing.

Harper smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Living with these punks isn’t so bad.”

“Really? Even Phoenix?” I whispered.

“I’m right here, you know,” the man himself huffed, stretching his long legs out in front of his body.

“Jury’s out on that one,” Harper replied with a grin .

After around twenty minutes, Hudson appeared carrying a small archive box. It didn’t appear overly heavy, although the guy had muscle upon muscle, so he was probably just making it look easy.

“You good man?” Reed said, moving towards him.

“Yeah.”

We all exchanged a look. It was clear he wasn’t. As he put the box in the back of his truck, the brothers fist bumped, embraced, and pounded each other on the backs, proper guy support and all that.

The drive back was steady, and the sun had started to set.

“Thanks for coming with me. I’ve behaved like such a dick and I feel like you’ve given me a second chance or some shit like that.”

“Well, you had your brothers, and sister, and so had almost everything you needed to help you through today,” I explained, placing my hand on his thick thigh.

Hudson changed lanes and indicated to exit the freeway, saying. “Almost everything. What had I been missing?”

“A friend.”

“And that’s you is it, just Molly?”

“Absolutely.” I wanted to be more than that, but didn’t want to assume.

“Well, that’s good enough for me. For now, anyway.”

During that last leg of the trip, we started talking about movies. Tom Hanks came up a few times. Our banter flowed, and it felt like I had known him for ages.

As our surroundings started to look familiar, Hudson slowed the car.