Chapter 20: Caged: Chapter 20

Hunter introduces his wife, Skylar, to my brothers as Maddie walks away, and the walls start closing in on me.

I’ve met Skye a few times. She’s a neurosurgeon in New York City, so I decide maybe she’s the answer I’m looking for. “Skye, can you explain to me how this happens? How does someone go from healthy and awake last night to dead this morning. What the hell happened?”

What I really want to ask is “Is there somewhere we can sit?” she asks. We all move to the dining-room table, and she pulls an old envelope and a pen from her purse, then draws something and starts pointing to it and explaining. “Berry aneurysms aren’t that uncommon. They’re a defect in the lining of one of the blood vessels of the brain. At this spot, the vessel wall has weakened and thinned, causing it to bulge out like a balloon. Most people walk around with absolutely no idea they have this sitting in their brain, like a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.” She stops speaking, but I already know Maddie’s walked back into the room. I can feel her eyes on me. But I don’t look at her. I can’t.

Skylar stands from the table and reaches out to Maddie. “Hi. I’m Skylar Carter. Hunter’s wife.”

“Nice to meet you, Skylar. I’m Maddie . . .” She leaves the rest unsaid, and I cringe.

Yeah. I wouldn’t want to admit I was with a murderer either.

Hunter smiles at Maddie. “Nice to see you again, Maddie. Brandon played a great game today.”

I guess he’s Dixon’s agent too.

“Thanks, Hunter. Can I get you guys anything?” When Hunt shakes his head no, she pulls out the chair next to me. “Please don’t stop. What were you saying?” Maddie asks Skye.

But Hunter is the one that answers, and he’s only looking at me. “She’s trying to tell you this wasn’t your fault, Hudson. You couldn’t have known.”

“Tell that to his pregnant wife.” I stand, not sure where I’m going when the front door opens, and Dixon steps aside, letting Scarlet in, who’s followed by Cade.

I ignore my sister and coach.

Not in the mood for more of the line and make my way to Dixon instead. “Hey, man. Do you have a gym here?”

He drops his bag at his feet, still dressed in his game-day suit. “Yeah. Come on.”

No questions asked, he opens a different door, and I follow him down a set of stairs to a state-of-the-art gym. My eyes trail over the heavy bag hanging in one corner and the free weights stacked neatly near a bench in the other.

“You want some help down here, King?” Dixon removes his jacket, ready to roll up his sleeves and help however I need, but I shake my head no.

“Can you just make sure Maddie’s okay?” I ask, not at all in the mood for company.

“You coming upstairs any time soon?” Cade asks as he walks down the basement steps.

I drop the hex bar at my feet, having lost count of my reps an hour ago. “Wasn’t planning on it.” I wipe the sweat away from my eyes and stare back at my coach.

“Hudson . . . this wasn’t—”

“Save it, Cade. I don’t want to hear it. Not now. Can you just get everyone out of here? Can I deal with the crisis PR mode tomorrow? Because tonight, I can’t fucking deal with the war room I have no doubt my sister set up upstairs.”

I grab the bar in both hands, ignoring the sting of the open-blistered calluses on the pads of my palm.

“Hudson.”

“Tomorrow, Saint. Help me get through the fucking night with this blood on my hands and get everyone out of this fucking house. Do it for me, like you know I’d do it for you,” I plead.

Fucking exhausted.

But not tired enough to forget.

“Imogen’s been calling all night.” His voice is softer when he mentions his sister.

One more person I let down.

“Tomorrow. Please, coach.” I pick the hex bar back up and start another rep of deadlifts instead of waiting for him to answer.

Cade stands there watching me for a while, his arms crossed over his chest and leaning against a pillar by the stairs, before eventually accepting that I don’t want to talk and finally leaving me alone.

I’m not sure how many hours go by or how many reps I do before I give up.

The anger doesn’t pass. It’s there under everything.

The pain hasn’t stopped. It’s just dulled.

But I still see that hit over and over in my mind.

The way my knee made contact with his face.

A quiet gasp catches me off guard as I turn around and wipe my hands on my pants. Maddie is sitting on the bottom step, her arms wrapped around her knees and silent, fat tears clinging to her dark lashes. She rushes toward me and grabs a towel from a shelf, then wraps it around my bloody palms. “You’ve gotta stop, Hudson. I refuse to sit here and let you hurt yourself.”

This woman is so good and pure that, for a moment, I let her clean my hands, then tuck herself against my chest. Soaking her in before I push her away.

“Hudson?” Confusion glistens in her bright blue eyes as they flash with hurt.

I answer her quietly, not wanting to hear my own voice. “I need to go home, Mads. I can’t stay here.”

Even if I want to.

Even if I wish I could.

The questions torturing me since I heard the news of McGuire’s death play on a constant loop in my mind. How am I supposed to live with the fact that I killed a man? Could I have done something different? How can I ever touch her with hands that ended someone’s life?

Maddie presses her lips to my sweat-drenched chest before lifting on her toes and wrapping her arms around my shoulders. “If you want to go home, I’m going with you.”

“There’s probably press everywhere, Maddie.” My gut tightens at the thought of them invading my space and getting near her.

Her thumb runs gently over the small cut on my cheek. “Then I guess you better stay here . . . with me.” She lowers back down and takes both my hands in hers, placing a kiss to each open palm. “I have no idea what you’re going through, Hudson. I can’t even begin to fathom it. But I’m not going to let you go through it alone.”

She tugs on my wrist, trying to get me to move with her. “Everyone is gone.”

When I don’t move, a silent fury burns in her eyes. “Don’t you dare, Hudson Kingston. I’m not some delicate flower that’s going to wilt when things get tough. Now, come with me.”

I grab my shirt from the floor and follow her up the stairs, having no energy left to fight.

I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but I’m not ready to figure it out now.

I tug Hudson up the stairs behind me, careful not to touch his hands. Then I push him into my en suite bathroom and turn on the shower. But before I get him in there, I force him down on the closed toilet and grab my first aid kit from under the sink.

“I’m fine, Mads,” Hudson mumbles as I take his hands.

That might be what this man wants to believe, but the hiss that escapes when I pour the alcohol over the raw pads of his palms tells me something completely different. Once they’re cleaned, I pull him to his feet and shove his jeans down, then do the same with his boxers and socks before I push him into the shower and follow behind him a minute later.

Hudson doesn’t say anything.

Not a single word.

But he doesn’t push me away.

I run my loofah over his arms and chest. Down his abs and over his back. It’s not supposed to be sexual, but it’s impossible to miss how his cock grows hard and heavy between his legs when I gently rub his piercings.

“Maddie.” My name is a quiet, strangled cry from his lips. “I don’t feel anything. I’m numb. I killed a man. What kind of monster am I?”

I curl my arms around his shoulders and kiss him with every ounce of pain and fear I’ve been holding on to today. Knowing what he needs. “Feel me, Hudson. I’m here. I’m with you, and you are not a monster.”

I deepen the kiss with a desperation. It’s furious. It’s rough and messy. Our tongues collide as the world around us disappears, leaving just the two of us.

Hudson boosts me up and leans me against the cool tile wall. Hot water sprays down on us as I wrap my legs around his waist and lower myself onto his thick cock.

He tries going slow, no doubt worried about hurting me, but I dig my heels into his backside, knowing soft and slow isn’t what he needs now. Then I roll my hips over the hard length of him.

A guttural groan rips from his chest, and he holds himself still. “I can’t, Maddie. I don’t want to hurt you.”

The hot water pounds down on my face when we kiss again. “You can, Hudson. Take what you need. Please. Let me help you. Let me in,” I beg.

This man holds me like I weigh nothing in his arms.

As if he hadn’t spent the last three hours in the gym after the worst day of his life.

His hold tightens around me as he shifts in slowly, then pulls out again.

“Fuck me, Hudson,” I whisper into his ear.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” His dark pupils are blown wide with need. He’s on the verge of snapping, and I whimper.

“I need you too, Hud. Show me you’re here with me. That you’re all right. Please.”

Quickly, Hud lifts me higher against the wall of the shower, then pistons his hips, pounding almost violently into me.

Every muscle in his body straining and pulling.

Flexing and shaking.

His face tight and his eyes unfocused.

Quickly, the now-familiar sensation of my impending orgasm catches fire and shatters. Hudson follows me over the edge, and my name is whispered like a silent plea for mercy.

For forgiveness.

This isn’t the version of Hudson Kingston he shows the world.

But I love it all. All the versions. All of this man.