Chapter 23

Hudson

I knockedat my mother's door at six a.m. I'd spent a restless night in my empty bed, mind spinning too much for sleep, until I finally gave up and sat out on the deck, waiting for the sun to rise.

Ansel answered the door—wearing a pink bathrobe.

The sight of him shocked me out of my own thoughts for a moment, and it was a sweet relief even as I gaped at him. "What in the hell?"

"Hudson, what a nice surprise." He smiled and reached out to shake my hand as if he hadn't known me for years—and snubbed me too.

"Ansel," I said grimly as I shook his hand. "You think I could talk to my mother?"

"Er, yes, I'll just…" He motioned vaguely behind him, then turned in a swirl of pink terrycloth and hightailed it toward the back of the house.

I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, wondering if I should just take my sorry ass somewhere else. I hadn't really planned this visit. Mom didn't know I was coming. I had felt lost, and after I'd arrived at the marina, my feet had carried me here of their own accord.

"Hudson!" Mom emerged from the hallway, fully dressed but with damp hair. "What are you doing here? Oh, goodness. You look awful, honey. Did you sleep at all?"

"Not really," I admitted.

After Fisher left me at the dock, I'd distracted myself by cleaning the Regal 35' for use the next day, then taken a long cruise around the lake. Eventually, I'd gone back to my place—where Fisher's absence cut more sharply.

My bed, which had never seemed too large—I was a big guy after all—had been strangely empty and cold.

The ground kept shifting under my feet, unsteady since the moment Fisher walked away from me. My heart wanted one thing, but my head couldn't forget all the mistakes that had led me here. So which did I listen to?

"I've got some coffee in the kitchen," Mom said. "Come on."

There were already two mugs on the table, and I seized on the distraction.

"Ansel? Really?"

She looked at me unapologetically. "Your father's dead, but I'm not."

"Mama," I said, realizing I sounded more like a scandalized southern belle than a middle-aged boat captain.

"Mind your business if you don't like it." She handed me the mug and waved me to the table. "I know you didn't come over here to talk about Ansel."

"No." I rubbed my eyes.

"What is keeping you up at night? Talk to me."

I took a sip of the coffee and tried to decide how to tell her. "I think I went and fell in love again."

She grasped my arm where it rested on the table. "Hudson, honey, that's great."

"But it's not," I rasped. "I made a mess of my marriage. I can't do that to another person."

"Ah, I see."

"What do you see? Because I can't see the forest for the trees. I'm out of my depth."

"I see that we're going to need cinnamon rolls for this." She patted my arm. "Drink that coffee, and I'll get rid of Ansel."

I nodded, relieved to let someone else make the decisions. Clearly, I was shit at it. I drank my coffee and got a refill, and my mother reheated some cinnamon rolls and gradually pulled the details from me bit by bit.

"Well, I'm not totally surprised," she said. "I saw how that Fisher kid looked at you when we crossed paths at The G Spot. I might have thought it was just a crush, except for the way you looked at him."

I winced. "Please don't call him a kid. I know he's young, but—"

"Oh pshh. You're younger than you think. At any rate, you're both adults, even if you're kids to me."

I snorted. I didn't feel young right now, not while confronted with the baggage of my mistakes.

"Now, let's get to the heart of the issue," she said. "You love him. You told me that already."

"But I shouldn't."

"Hush now. It's time to listen."

I fell silent, heart pounding. I should want her to agree with me, but I desperately hoped she wouldn't. If she told me to let Fisher go, I'd be devastated. If she told me to keep him, I'd be afraid of ruining him.

In the end, she did neither.

"Fisher clearly sees something in you worth loving, but if you can't believe in that love, it'll never work."

I closed my eyes, a wave of pain crashing over me. "You think I should let him go."

"No, honey, I didn't say that." She grasped my hand and squeezed it. "You've got to forgive yourself for Karen, so you can move on and embrace this love with Fisher. You're always so hard on yourself because you've got a good heart. I know you blame yourself for how your marriage ended."

"I made so many mistakes."

"We all make mistakes," she said. "But some relationships also just aren't meant to be."

I shook my head. "That's a cop-out."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is it? Tell me, is your relationship with Fisher anything like the one with Karen?"

"It's not a relationship, just…."

"Semantics." She waved away my comment. "Is Fisher anything like Karen? Does he make you feel the same way? Do you two have the same dynamic?"

"No." I paused and gathered my thoughts. "Their personalities are very different. Fisher's pretty easygoing. He tends to go with the flow and Karen…"

"Was not." My mother's lips quirked. "I didn't know her well, but I know that much."

I nodded. "Fisher is happy and optimistic about most things. He's full of passion and energy. He has dreams, and he's full of hope and he makes me feel—"

"Feel what, hon?"

"Like a different man," I said quietly. "A better one than I really am."

"Or maybe he just sees the man you are, and it's enough for him."

"But am I really good enough for him?"

"Well, sweetie, I think only Fisher can decide that question."

That reminded me of Fisher's words. That I treated him like his dad did, like someone too young or na?ve to make his own choices. That had never been my intent, but I knew that I'd hurt him.

"I never meant for any of this to happen," I said helplessly. "He's so young, and I figured he'd have some fun with me and move on. It was never supposed to get serious, but somehow it did anyway."

"Sometimes a relationship is just meant to be."

I glanced up at her, afraid to hope. "You think I should be with him?"

"I can't tell you what to do. You need to search your heart for those answers."

"What if my heart says one thing and my head another?"

"Then I guess you better figure out which one is more important to you. Logic or passion." She ate another bite of cinnamon roll, now on her second one. "Whatever you do, kiddo, you've got to stop punishing yourself."

She pushed her plate toward me. "Finish this. I've eaten too much already. Then go get some sleep, all right? If you're going to figure anything out, you need a clear head."

"Or you could just tell me what to do," I suggested hopefully.

She laughed. "Oh, you already have the answer you need. You just have to find your way to it."

Damn my mother for being stubborn. But she was right. I knew, deep down, that I couldn't bear to give up Fisher. But I wasn't sure I was ready to be the man he needed, either.

I had to find a way to reconcile the difference, or it might just cost me the best thing to ever happen to me.

Fisher

I unlocked the front door of the bait shop and flipped on the open sign the next morning. I always opened for Dad on Sundays so he could meet up for coffee with his pals.

Really, it was better I didn't spend the night with Hudson. I'd have had to rush to get here on time. No morning sex—

Or sex ever again, my brain filled in. Because you risked everything by walking away.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and moved through the store, doing an eyeball inventory to see if anything needed restocked.

We were running perilously low on energy drinks. Hudson hated them, but he kept some in his fridge for me after my first overnight.

Stop thinking about him.

My brain was a masochist though, because as I headed to the back room, my mind replayed every memory I'd made with Hudson these past weeks. The sexy ones were bittersweet, but the real torture was the replay of every quiet, intimate moment we shared.

The night I playfully drew letters on his back with my fingers just for an excuse to keep touching him. The way he held me in his sleep, as if being unconscious gave him permission to get closer. The affectionate kisses to my cheek or forehead. The private smiles. The breakfasts he always made. The way he insisted on taking care of me.

Every moment, so clearly remembered, a sign of just how much I'd treasured those small gestures, how much I'd hoped they'd lead to more.

Maybe it should piss me off that he wanted to take care of me. After all, he was still trying to protect me—only from himself this time.

But I loved his supportive, caring nature. I just needed him to see I could be strong and self-sufficient too. That I could stand up and ask for what I needed.

I tripped over a box that was out of place in the stockroom, cutting my emotional spiral short. I didn't know where it should be—other than not in the middle of the floor—so I pulled open the flaps to see what was inside.

I spotted a fish-finding gadget, followed by some sporty looking rods and reels.

It took a minute to click. I unpacked the box item by item, digging out coolers that had gone viral on the Internet for surviving a fire and keeping the beer inside ice cold at the same time. They were ridiculously pricey, and I'd only added those to the list for the social media buzz tourists would recognize.

The box held every single item I'd suggested Dad order that he'd flat-out dismissed.

But why? I was left with that question for a few more hours. I waited on a customer or two, and around 10 a.m., Dad came in while I examined one of the sporty rod-and-reels he'd bought.

It really wasn't any better than your standard rod, but it had a few flashy bells and whistles that would appeal to someone with more money than experience.

"Look what I found in the stockroom. You ordered this stuff for the Dock Hop?"

"Meant for it to be a surprise," he said gruffly. "That stuff seemed important to you."

"It wasn't about the items so much."

He nodded. "You wanted me to listen to you."

"Yeah." Color me surprised again. "I know it's your store until you retire. I just…I care, and I have ideas. I want to be more than a store clerk."

"And I didn't see you properly. That's on me." His mouth twisted with disappointment. "But did you really have to go behind my back and work for outsiders?"

My stomach twisted. "Did I need permission?"

He huffed. "This is a family business, Fisher. If you were going to bail, a heads-up would have been nice! I looked like a damned fool when I saw the flyer with your name on it."

I'd distributed the flyers with the details of the upcoming community meeting yesterday before joining Hudson.

"I'm sorry. I was going to tell you…"

"When?"

I shrugged, guilt slithering through me. This wasn't the only secret I'd kept lately, and maybe I'd gotten a little too comfortable not sharing.

Especially when I didn't want to deal with more fallout.

"I should have told you," I admitted. "But it's a part-time thing. I'm not bailing on the store."

Dad looked like he was chewing on some words, no doubt recriminating ones. But then his shoulders slumped. "I can't believe that damned Hudson called it right."

"What?"

He nodded his head toward the back of the store. "Come to my office. We should talk, and I want to sit down."

I followed him, palms sweating. What could Hudson have to do with any of this? Surely he didn't tell Dad about me taking the consulting gig? No. He wouldn't.

Dad lowered himself into the office chair behind his oak desk. This office wasn't for meetings, so there weren't other chairs, but I dragged over a stepladder and perched on it.

"What did Hudson say?"

Dad grumbled under his breath. Then sighed. "He warned me you had dreams and I had best listen if I didn't want to lose you."

"Oh," I said softly, oddly touched that Hudson had defended me. He obviously believed in me when it came to this stuff. If only he believed my heart could handle him.

"Don't go saying anything to him," Dad said. "Every fool is right once a decade."

My lips twitched. "Is that a real saying?"

"Sure it is." His eyes twinkled just enough to make me wonder if his grudge ran as deep as he pretended. Maybe Dad had just fallen into that rut, right alongside the one the store had been in for years.

"But look, I'm not leaving. I believe in the resort project, and I had the time to spare so…"

"What if you love it?" he asked, sounding oddly vulnerable. "What if this is just the start of a different life for you?"

"I'm not looking for that." It wasn't until I said it that I knew for certain. My heart had always been here, in this store. It's why I went to business school. It's why I got so infuriated with Dad when he didn't take me seriously.

I could see a future for this place, one that fit into a thriving town on the lake, not a slowly dying one. But that could only happen if we embraced change.

Was I idealistic? Definitely. The situation with Hudson had taught me that. It was good that Dad was more practical, as long as there was a little room for optimism, too.

"You were looking for something," he said, sounding sad. "And I can't say I agree with this resort thing. It'll blow up in our faces, mark my words."

I grimaced because this was Dad's usual take and I wasn't in the mood for a lecture. He caught my expression and chuckled. "You know my opinion there, but I'll always support you, Fisher. If that's what you really want—"

"I want a voice in this business," I said. "I want to plan for the future. And maybe I'm young and na?ve , and your experience can keep me from making dumb mistakes, but I want us to do this together. I mean, I know it's your store, but…"

"One day it'll be yours," Dad said. "If you want it."

"I do."

"Okay then. I know I can be a stubborn old grump. But I'll try to let go a little. Retirement isn't far off…might as well get a boat and enjoy my golden years."

"As if you'd be happy doing that. You know, you're so mad Hudson got the boating fleet, but it's all wrong for you."

"You think?"

I huffed a laugh. "Dad, you've been making me deal with those annoying tourists since I was a kid, and they're here for like ten minutes. You really think you could put up with them for hours?"

He grinned. "Well, when you put it that way, I reckon I'm happy enough with where I am. As long as I have my son by my side."

He stood, and we hugged. It wasn't something that never happened, but it'd been a good long while since Dad held me so tight.

Just now, I needed the comfort, so I clung to him an extra minute.

"Tell me how you feel from now on," he said gruffly. "No more secrets, all right?"

My stomach twisted, and I opened my mouth, Hudson's name on my tongue. But was there even anything to tell? I didn't want to threaten this fragile peace over a secret that might drift away on the wind.

But damn it hurt to think that just as I repaired one relationship I might have lost the other for good.