55. Hudson

55

HUDSON

I walk out the front door and keep moving so I don’t turn back. Reaching the elevator, I step in and go down to the lobby.

My mind reels between mixed emotions of anger and sadness. I’m proud of her, so fucking proud. I really am. But why did they need to offer her that job? I’m pissed at everyone, when it’s no one’s fault but this fucked up circumstance.

The elevator doors open, and I’m surprised when Henry is standing on the other side of it.

I glance around, looking for anyone else, but it’s just him.

“Hey.” He was shocked to see me here, even though he’s in my fucking building.

“Hi,” comes out as a question.

He places his hands in his pockets, showing a timid side I rarely see.

“I came by to see if you wanted to get some breakfast,” he asks with some foreign sound of vulnerability in his tone.

I pause for a moment, hearing the questions that Ember has asked a few of times over the past couple of months.

Does he deserve my forgiveness? No .

Is it more pain for me to carry than anyone else? Yes.

The only way we can move forward is by my actions, my choice. Granting him forgiveness is step one, before I can even begin with trust.

“Sure,” I say without much enthusiasm, as I step out the elevator and nod my head at the front door. “But you’re buying.”

We magically make it to whatever restaurant my legs navigated us to, feeling unsure of how we actually got here. My mind has wandered in a million different directions, all of which ended in a daydream, trapped in a blanket of cinnamon hair and lost in jade-colored eyes. One where she chooses me, chooses us.

But the ache in my chest is my new reality, and I realize my daydreams are hallucinations that will quickly drive me to the brink of insanity. I still don’t want to give them up.

“What are you doing here, Henry?” I cut to the chase. I’m tired, emotionally drained, and I’m over whatever shit he’s constantly trying to pull.

He twirls his cup of coffee on the table, and it’s the first time I think I’ve ever seen him nervous.

His eyes are all over the place, bouncing between his cup, the waitress, me, back to his cup.

“Henry, I don’t have time?—”

“I fucked up, Hud. I fucked up, and I’m sorry.” My eyebrows hit my hairline, and I just stare. In all my life, not once has Henry ever admitted fault. To anything.

He peers up at me, searching for something. Acceptance maybe, understanding? But I’m still fucking speechless.

His long exhale is the only thing I hear between the silence that engulfs our small space .

“I remember when Mom told me I was going to be a big brother. She said I was being upgraded to a double big brother because she was pregnant with the twins. Up until then, it was only me and Mom and Dad. Then, after they were born, I felt like I never saw Mom at all. She was so overwhelmed with Grant and Graham. Dad really stepped up, and we got a lot closer.” A tight-lipped smile crosses his face at the mention of our father.

My father and I are, well, we’re decent. I’ve always been closer to my mother, and Henry closer to our father. The twins are close with both, but incredibly independent of our parents because they’ve always had each other.

“Then you came along and they became massively outnumbered. I was older, so I was left alone a lot. They relied on me to walk or bike home if they couldn’t figure out how to get all of us to our practices or games. Tutored myself through school because keeping my grades up to keep playing ball was an enormous struggle. I cheated a lot. Did whatever I had to.” His regretful eyes reach mine, like he’s never confessed that to anyone.

“I lashed out at everyone, you specifically. Then you proposed to Veronica, and all attention was on you again. I was talking to different teams, looking at getting drafted, but the excitement of it all was buried under your engagement.” He palms the nape of his neck and takes another deep breath.

“I look back on it now and, fuck, it was so stupid and immature. I could give you excuse after excuse, but it doesn’t matter. I just fucked up everything for you, and I’m sorry.”

Wow. Wow .

“The pitch…” He rubs his forehead, resting his head in his palms before sitting upright again. “I was out to prove I was better than you. I was jealous that the team wanted you so quickly after you came up, and I had been there for years, making a name for myself. ”

“How is that any different than what is happening right now, with my team?” I interrupt.

“Let me finish.” He puts up his hand in a small surrender.

“You called that pitch and I didn’t want to listen. I wanted to be the one to tell Coach that I made the call and struck him out. I wanted it to be about me for once, just one time. But you have to know that pitch was a complete fucking accident, Hudson. You have to know.” His voice is more urgent now.

“You never fucking apologized to me. Not fucking once, Henry,” I fight back.

“I know.” His fingers tremble slightly as they press into his eyelids.

“I was embarrassed that my mistake cost you everything. And I knew you would hate me forever. I’m grasping at straws here; I know I am. I’m just asking for a chance to earn your trust.”

Do I believe him? I do. Sadly. My toxic trait is loving too much and forgiving too easily, then allowing myself to get hurt, wondering why the hell that would happen to me. Although, with Henry, I’ve never even given him the opportunity.

He’s been going home every month to my parents’ house for the past couple years, making sure to be present with them. He’s been actively trying to talk to me, but I’ve pushed him away time and time again, not allowing him to get a say in otherwise.

It was only recently that I even considered it—because of Ember.

Forgiveness allows you to let go, so you can stop carrying the burden of someone else’s actions.

Maybe that’s how she handled everything that happened to her so well. Sure, she’s a professional at hide and seek with her heart and has superior emotional intelligence, but she doesn’t live in the past or allow it to control her future.

Fuck, I miss her already .

“Is this about getting on the team?” I ask, abruptly.

“I got an offer this morning after you left the stadium. I met with Coach Raymer as well,” he confesses, “but if you tell me not to sign it, I won’t. I mean,” he runs his hands through his hair nervously, “I can’t sign it until after the season is over, but I do want to make a commitment to a team. I only have a few more years left, if that, and I want us to play together. We’d have the same schedule, could visit Mom and Dad. They could easily make it to our games. Sort of like old times.”

I squint, confused. Like I don’t know my own big brother. He’s sentimental and a big teddy bear. But, in reality, I guess I really don’t know him at all. I’ve never tried to really know him.

“Are you going through a midlife crisis, brother?” That earns me a chuckle.

“Maybe…” He pauses. “But it was probably the life altering conversation your wife threw at me when you guys were at Mom and Dad’s.”

Just the mention of my wife perks up my spine.

“She, somehow all at the same time, put the fear of God, the devil, and her own wrath—which is scarier than both of the former, by the way—if I didn’t get my shit together and spend my life earning back your trust. No matter what it took.”

I can’t hold back my smile, envisioning my little red spitting threats at a man, my brother, over a foot taller than she is and three quarters his size. All for me.

It slips instantly as I glance down at the face of my watch. The second hand struggles to move, attempting to move, flickering but staying in place, and I wonder if it’s powered by my heart.

Maybe she’s still packing. Maybe she’s stalling for me to come home. Maybe she’s already gone.

“She’s quite perfect for you.” My brother’s words snap my eyes in his direction.

He’s smiling as he takes a sip of his coffee, but it fades when he recognizes the look of despair as I begin to panic, knowing I’ve really lost her.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

Annnnd. The flood gates open.

“She’s gone,” I say, flatly. “She got promoted, and she’s moving to New York. Today.”

“Oh.” His response brings me an unwelcome flashback of when I asked her out on that plane. Shocked, a little embarrassed maybe, that someone would ask her out. I remember the flush in her cheeks and the shy twitch of her full lips. The way she breathed those words as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

Then the following reply, “I can’t.” The same one she fed me today when I begged her to stay.

I suppose it was always meant to be this way, something I continued to fight for too long. Risking my heart for the inevitable outcome. Battling something that was never in my favor to begin with.

“Are you sure that you guys?—”

“Don’t,” I interrupt him because that’s the last thing I need right now. Hope.

I can’t talk about her right now. It hurts too fucking much.

The waitress steps to our table and slides our plates in front of us, giving me the reprieve I need.

“Let’s eat. Then let’s go see Coach Raymer,” I say curtly, as he studies me briefly, then gives me a tight-lipped smile. He’s probably torn between the excitement that we’re on a road to recovery or wondering if I’ll completely flip out at any given moment.

I need to accept that Seattle will be my permanent home for the next five years, and the worst part of that is being haunted by the memory of knowing what it was like with her here. Knowing nothing will fill that void.

I finish my egg white omelet, and Henry inhales his blueberry pancakes and overly large side of eggs and bacon. He’s always had a huge appetite and faster metabolism than anyone I’ve ever met.

He keeps his end of the bargain and pays the bill before we leave, a good first step in the whole trust department, then we start our walk over to the stadium.

It’s early enough on Sunday morning that the fog still sits low on the horizon, and the somberness that lingers in the air matches my mood.

They say Seattle is one of the most depressing cities in the world due to the lack of sunlight and the adverse effect that has on your mental health. Interesting that since Ember came into my life, in Seattle, I’ve been the happiest I’ve ever been, yet this morning, I can completely relate to Seattle statistics.

She brought her own light, combating the Seattle gray. Now, it all feels empty.

“Are you ready?” Henry asks, as we pause to look up at the stadium from the main entrance.

I take a moment to marvel at the stadium, as if I were a spectator coming to see a game, like I was so many times before.

This is my new permanent home.

I turn to look at my brother, freeing myself of the resentment I’ve been carrying for too long. All because one little siren came into my life and made me realize the power of letting go.

“Ready.”

“I can’t tell you how excited I am for next season,” Coach Raymer says, as I finish signing the last signature line on my contract.

“Me too,” I reply with a smile, because I am happy. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself .

Henry left to go help the athletic trainer with some field equipment while I was signing, so I’m taking advantage of the private moment. “Thank you for your understanding this morning, too, sir.”

He pauses for a minute and sits back in his chair. His back rests against the tall plush leather backing and inspects me like he does when he’s pondering how to say something.

It’s something I realized about Coach when he debates about his approach. He’s so calculated, knowing how important the delivery is when sharing any type of news with one of his players.

“You know, Hudson, my wife had her masters and attempted to work in every city we transferred to. She didn’t have to work, and I reminded her of that all the time. After the third move, she realized she couldn’t settle into a company and decided to stop trying. I was relieved, but she was frustrated because I didn’t understand her desire to work when she didn’t have to.” He leans forward, folding his hands into each other.

“She resented me, she got depressed, lost purpose in her life, and it was hard on us for a while. Then she left me.”

I just about fracture my neck, snapping my eyes up to look at him. If I know anything about Coach, it’s his undying love for his wife. I had no idea that, at some point in their marriage, she left him, or that they had any kind of trouble at all.

“I gave her some time, knowing she needed that. At that time, we only had another month left in the season, and it was the worst fucking month of my life. After that, I decided I would give up everything to get her back. I’d leave baseball, stay home and take care of the kids. Whatever she needed me to do, because my career wasn’t worth losing her over.”

My eyes widen in curiosity. Even though I already know they are still together, I ask, “So, what happened?”

“I showed up at the house, groveling, begging. Confessed my eternal love. Continued to beg. She laughed. She actually laughed at me, Hudson.” He shakes his head with a smile at the memory.

“She needed time to find herself, her worth. She identified as a strong, independent working mother and put herself through school to get there. When we got married and started moving all over for my job, it stripped away her identity. She didn’t want to leave me, she wanted to find herself again, and me forcing myself to stay away from her gave her the space she needed to discover that. During that month, she started working on a foundation that she was able to dedicate her time to that she could do from anywhere we lived, and it brought her purpose.”

As much as his story is endearing, Ember isn’t lost. She knows what she wants. And it still ends with her in New York and me in Seattle.

“And you lived happily ever after?” I ask with a thin-lipped smile.

“Give her time. You both are young. Maybe it’s just not the right time for the two of you. That doesn’t mean it can’t be later.”

“Anytime is the right time with her, at least for me.”

“Are you sure you want me to have this?” He holds up the contract, exchanging a look between me and the paper shredder next to his desk.

I pause, debating what my life would be like. And I would give it all up, if I actually thought she wanted to be followed.

“Yes, I belong here.”

He gives me a long, very questionable slow nod, agreeing with a sad smile.

I hate it.

“Don’t lose?—”

“Hope?” I interrupt, standing up because I can’t seem to exit fast enough now. I made my decision, signed the divorce papers, signed my contract, and signed them both with ink from my bleeding heart. The last thing I need is fucking hope to carry with me day in and day out, knowing the end result.

“Hope is what guides us through the darkest of times,” he says, with far too much… hope.

Walking to the door, I grip the handle and swing it open, pausing through the walkway that started this whole endeavor, and I take a minute to think back on all the moments in between.

Pulling what’s left of my optimism, praying that when I walk through this door, my memories fade and I live in a world without the torment of hope because it’ll kill what little is left of me.

“Hope destroys the strongest men.”