The Roots of Us Page 6

  “When will you leave?”

  He didn’t look at me when he asked. It was a simple question. A question he posed evenly, but I noticed when he put a toothpick in his mouth and twirled it. His nervous tick.

  “I don’t have a date in mind,” I admitted, deciding against messing with him. “I put a deposit for another week’s deposit on the house I’m renting. That’s usually how I operate in between projects. I clear my head space until the next projects falls into my lap.”

  His shoulders settled a little. “Isn’t it stressful not knowing where you’ll end up next?”

  An elderly woman passed by us, smiling and waving. She had headphones in, walking at a clipped pace, getting her daily exercise in. I wanted to capture her. The youth in her eyes.

  “Not really,” I said. “Not when you’re used to living that way.”

  He nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  We followed the twist to the sidewalk lined up against a large lake. Sunlight prickled through the treetops swinging lazily in the breeze.

  “Have you ever traveled?”

  “Once,” he said, hands in his pockets.

  My forehead pinched. “Once?”

  There was a shuffling sound within the bushes next to us. A small duck appeared, waddling quickly across the sidewalk. We stopped so it could pass, and I smiled as a tiny herd of ducklings followed suit. We must have startled her, because she quacked at us, and then tottered off in a hurry toward the lake with ruffled tail feathers.

  He twirled the toothpick. “I hired a detective a few years back to look for someone. They thought they had a lead, so I flew to California. Turned out the lead was wrong. I thought about staying, just in case something new turned up, but California was a plastic version of Florida, so I left.”

  I’ll be here, waiting. Did he chase after his mysterious someone? Who was she? Who broke his heart so bad he’d been too crippled to leave?

  I was about to ask when he tensed up beside me. My gaze bounced from him to the woman approaching us. She had to be around my age. Maybe an inch shorter with gorgeous blonde hair that held trendy waves. Her face was completely made up. Fake eyelashes and all. She was in a bright pink sports bra and black yoga pants, jogging like it was effortless.

  I despised any form of exercise.

  “Hudson?” she said after she slowed to a walk. She wasn’t even sweating.

  I wiped my forehead for her.

  He pulled his toothpick out. “Hey, Jessica.” We sort of stood there in the middle of the sidewalk in an awkward triangle. “This is Hartley.”

  I rubbed my palms against my shorts before sticking out my hand. “Hi.”

  She glanced at my hand, and then gave me the fakest smile I’d ever seen. “Hi.”

  I dropped my hand.

  The air turned stale, as if she sucked the life out of it. She side-eyed me before steeling her face, chin jutted in Hudson’s direction. “You move on quick.”

  Shit. She was his ex.

  “We’re not dating,” I quickly said, not wanting to be any part of a love triangle. I moved over a few steps so we weren’t forming one anymore.

  She ignored me. “Don’t you think this is a little soon?”

  I could feel the tension rolling off him in thick, heavy waves. His toothpick was in his mouth again. Twirling, twirling, twirling.

  Her hands landed on her hips, and I craved the bag of Oreos hiding beneath my camera.

  “What? You’re not going to say anything? I give you two years, and you give me a new girl shoved in my face?”

  “Jessica…”

  “Don’t,” she said, shaking her head as her arms crossed against her chest. Typical defense mechanism. Her eyes shot to mine, slitted with anger. “Let me give you a piece of advice, Harley.”

  “Hartley,” I corrected, my shoulders straightening. I wasn’t sure who this bitch thought she was, but I’d be damned if she dragged me into it.

  “Whatever,” she said with an eye roll. “He doesn’t commit, so brace yourself for the fallout.” She glared over at him, the air between them bloated with bitterness. “He ruins everything he touches.”

  She wasn’t paying attention when I stepped up to her. Not until I was invading her space.

  Her tough shell cracked a little.

  When her eyes met mine, I said, “It’s a good thing I’m just in it for the sex then.”

  Her jaw dropped, and then she shouldered past me, jogging off.

  “Sorry,” I said the minute she was gone, turning in Hudson’s direction. “I just couldn’t—”

  “She’s right.” His gaze hit the ground. “She broke it off with me a little over a year ago after I forgot her birthday. I do ruin every relationship I touch.” He glanced over at me, the torment in his eyes so thick I could barely swallow. “I’m sure I’ll ruin whatever’s between us when all is said and done.”

  I was at a loss for words, trying to absorb what happened. Though everything about Jessica irked me, the heartache in her eyes and in her words was real. She’d loved him. Probably still did. And he’d done nothing to console her.

  I saw a piece of myself in him then. Realized we had more in common than I thought. He didn’t let himself get attached. Didn’t let them get too close.

  It was why I left when things ended. To avoid situations like that.

  Exes were bad news.

  He stopped near a bench that faced the lake, and we both sat. There was no telling how long we sat there in silence as my thoughts buzzed and his cringed.

  I finally asked, “What do you think went wrong?”

  He leaned forward, forearms resting against his knees, toothpick still spinning between his teeth. “I couldn’t give her what she wanted. A ring. Promises of a future. I didn’t want it.”

  I watched him with careful regard. “Maybe she wasn’t the right one for you.”

  He shrugged and sat back, resting an arm along the back of the bench. “Or I wasn’t the right man.”

  A second pulsed between us, pregnant with hope.

  I turned so I was facing him. “You want to know what I think?” I asked, beginning to solve the puzzle of Hudson’s life.

  He nodded, eyes begging me to tell him.

  “I think you push them away before they can hurt you.”

  His forehead creased as he let my words sink in. Words I knew all too well. They were the definition of every decision I made. Every decision I’d continue to make.

  But this wasn’t about me.

  “You know what’s a good fix for nearly every emotional problem?” I continued.

  “If I did, I wouldn’t have exes yelling at me in public.” He laughed, but it was empty.

  I waited until he looked over at me, leaning forward, palms flat against the bench. “Have you ever tried doing the opposite?”

  “Opposite of what?”

  “Opposite of what you do in every relationship? Change can’t come if you keep making the same mistakes over and over. Stop wallowing in your past. Do the opposite. Tell your fears to fuck off and let someone in for a change. You might be surprised. Honesty, remember?”

  “Honesty,” he repeated, as if he only just realized what it meant. A second later, he caught my eyes and refused to let go. “And what’s your opposite?”

  When he stared at me like that… with those open, honest eyes, as if every word I was about to say would inspire change, I realized I’d gotten myself in over my head.

  Shit, Hartley.

  I thought about it for a moment. It only took a second to find mine, because my flaws were my armor. They were the mantra I repeated to myself each morning. The dark, shattered pieces that made me, me.

  Cynical. Coward. Stubborn. Jaded. But mostly… transient.

  “Hartley?” he asked.

  It was a hard one to admit, but I’d already asked so much of him. He deserved my truth. “Not running when it gets tough.”

  A subtle grin. “I thought you looked like a runner.” He eyed my Nikes. />
  I bumped my shoulder into his, a smile on my face.

  “How about…” He hesitated.

  “What?”

  He chewed on the thought, and then said, “Let’s make a pact. We will hold each other to do the opposite. To live honest. Okay?”

  I stuck my hand out. “Here’s to living against the grain. Swimming upstream. Running toward the storm.” I paused, chewing the corner of my lip. “Yeah… that’s about all I’ve got,” I finished with a small giggle.

  He chuckled. “To living against the grain.”

  We shook, and then stood, heading back in the direction of my car.

  “Hartley?”

  “Hmm.”

  He bumped me with his shoulder. “You’re different, you know that?”

  I grinned like a fool. “So I’ve been told.”

  LATER THAT NIGHT, I SNUGGLED in bed with a small glass of whiskey and a bag of chips beside me, then opened my email. There were more job offers… none of which stood out. A few from my friend Andrea checking in on me. I’d met her at a premier a few years back. One of her novels had been made into a movie, and I was friends with the director. She was a doll. Always mothering me… silently rooting for me to change my running ways.

  If only she knew how dedicated I was. A creature of habit that couldn’t be deterred.

  I scrolled some more, nearly choking when I saw the subject line: I miss you.

  Rolling my eyes, I opened it, already knowing what it would say.

  I’m sorry about what happened. I miss you. Please, come home.

  Love, Wesley.

  I stared at the email for a good ten minutes, shoving Doritos in my mouth at an alarming rate. Fucker, I thought with a sneer. He thinks he can get me back with a basic-ass apology? Doesn’t he know who I am?

  I hit delete.

  If I learned anything from my many relationships, it was that men held power over a woman only if she gave it to them. I was no sucker. A woman’s mind was her most powerful weapon. Her sword. Her shield. Men didn’t understand that a woman’s resolve was ten times stronger than their muscle. It was our gift to protect, because when women lived their entire life trying to catch up, they learned to work harder than them. To be sharper.

  I was the sharpest damn blade in the block.

  I’d done a good job not thinking about Wesley ever since I arrived in Florida. Not about his charming smile, and not about his way with the camera. Not about the fun we had when we’d sneak off to the utility room, or about the art we made that resulted in winning a Sundance award.

  And especially not about his wandering dick.

  I’d caught him in the utility closet with someone I thought was my friend. My tears were the miles put between us. Miles I’d never retrace. He wasn’t worth it, and I wasn’t in love with him to begin with.

  But Hudson?

  Honesty.

  I took a large sip from my drink, feeling like a fraud. A liar. A monster hiding behind a pretty smile.

  I made a pact not to run.

  And the truth was… I wasn’t sure I could keep that pact.

  OCTOBER 17, 2015

  WHEN I WAS STUDYING IN college, I was asked to do a time-lapse video of anything growing or decaying to show progression that the human eye wouldn’t normally notice. I chose to time-lapse an orchid in its phases since it so rarely bloomed. It took over a month. Every day I checked on it, but didn’t see significant change. Enough that I thought maybe I’d killed the plant.

  But then there was a bud, and then it bloomed.

  When I watched it back, I was shocked to see the growth. When sped up, it was like watching a ballerina waking from a majestic slumber. Graceful swaying until it stretched awake and shared its beauty with the world.

  That was how the past two months felt ever since I first saw Hudson… like watching a time-lapse video. When time moved slowly, but it felt like it happened all at once. Progression with Hudson was happening every day we spent meeting for lunch and getting to know one another, but in hindsight, I didn’t realize it was building into something neither one of us was prepared for.

  Not until today.

  Hudson watched me mess around with the footage I’d captured that day on my laptop. It was a routine we fell into without ever speaking it out loud. I edited. He wrapped silverware inside napkins. Slowly learning things about one another as the days wove into weeks.

  “You really love what you do, don’t you?” he asked before taking a bite of his fish sandwich, the same he had every day. I’d come to learn he was a creature of habit. One of those who never ventured with a menu. Or with a brand of clothing.

  Or with a person he was interested in.

  An effortless smile bloomed across my face. “I do. What made you ask?”

  He used his chin to point to the laptop. “Every day you’re out there, capturing images, and then bringing them back here to edit just for the fun of it. I’ve yet to see you rundown about it. Not even a smidgen of a frown.”

  I hit save, and then shut my laptop. “This is therapeutic for me. It makes me feel like I have some order in my life.”

  He took another massive bite of his sandwich, leaving a trail of mayo underneath his bottom lip.

  I giggled. “You, on the other hand,” I said, leaning to reach across the table and wipe at his chin with a napkin, “are a man of disorder. Of that, I’m sure.”

  He swallowed. “Didn’t your nona ever tell you looks can be deceiving?”

  I pursed my lips. “Are you saying you’re tidy?”

  “Are we answering questions with a question?” he retorted, trying his best to hide a smirk, but I was becoming familiar with his facial tics. His left dimple twitched when he was trying to bite back a smile. And his smile felt deeper when our conversations were on the lighter side.

  I paused, my chest lightening like it always did when I was around him. “Am I right?”

  His eyes grew mischievous. “What if I said I have something I’d like to show you? What I’ve formed as my routine. If you’re available?”

  I leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “Is that rhetorical? You know my availability.”

  He held my gaze, letting that be his answer.

  I let out a pitiable sigh and began to inspect my nails, pretending to be nonchalant. “I might be free, although it’d mean I’d have to cancel my date with the Winchester brothers… something I’m not willing to do for just anyone.”

  When I lifted my eyes, his eyebrows were hooked heavy with a question. “I… I wasn’t aware you were dating someo—” He coughed and corrected, “I mean… people.”

  I chewed on my cheek, trying to contain my amusement. “It’s a television show, Hudson,” I said, holding my stomach as laughter overtook me. “Supernatural… the hunters?”

  He shook his head, unaware. “Sorry… I don’t watch much TV. Not unless a fight’s on.”

  “Me either, unless it’s Supernatural or Bizarre Foods,” I said, picking up an Oreo. I lifted my gaze to his. “And, yes, I am free tonight.”

  His chest expanded a little.

  “What’s the routine you want to show me?” Images flooded my mind, all of which sent a healthy flush to my cheeks.

  It’d been a while… and there was enough sexual tension stored between us to start a wildfire.

  “It’s a surprise,” he said, his face relaxing. “Is seven good? I’ll make dinner.”

  Another layer of Hudson peeled back in front of me. “You cook?”

  He rolled the wrapper of the straw between his fingers. “I make a few things here and there.”

  Something in how he said it told me he could do more than make a few things. It was another side of Hudson I’d come to realize. He downplayed anything brilliant about himself. Humble to his core.

  “I’ll arrive with fork in hand then.” I started packing my things. When I finished, we stood, and then he walked me to my bus.

  He opened the door for me. “See you at seven, Hartley.” He s
tared down at me, his eyes an endless blue. My back was against the bus. His body was a breath away from mine.

  There was a small, shimmering moment when his eyes found my lips and my tongue yearned to taste his that I thought he was going to kiss me. It had become a thing of ours, that dance we did on the edge of the cliff, waiting for one of us to push the other over.

  Normally, I’d say fuck it, grab onto him, and take the plunge. But I couldn’t. Not yet. Not with him, and that scared the hell out of me.

  I cleared my throat, and then he stepped back, the moment gone. Shadows cast over the ground as if the sun had gathered up the clouds, shielding its disappointment in us.

  As I got into my bus and he headed back inside, I couldn’t help but think there it was. Hindsight catching up to have a chat with me. I’d soon know where he lived. He’d soon show me more layers of himself in a more personal setting. We’d both cross a barrier we’d unknowingly set, disregarding the fallout we knew was in store for us.

  Bruised, jaded me shoving away the defenses I stood behind.

  Broken, hesitant him stepping out from the shadows at a chance for a dance with sunlight.

  A tidal wave was in store for us, and I wasn’t sure we’d survive it.

  “YES, MOM. HE’S NICE. HE’S more than nice,” I said.

  I moved in front of the mirror of my bathroom, holding up a dress, trying to gauge if it was right or not. It felt too formal and extra, when I was simple and plain. I liked being that way, and he must have, too, so why change?

  I tossed it to the side with a small huff before going back to the closet. I was beginning to kick myself for not having the usual feminine wardrobe, because I didn’t think cargo pants and Henley shirts were going to cut it in the sexy department.

  “Anyway, as I was saying… he passed it off as a casual sit-down saying he had something to show me.”

  “I’m sure he does,” she slyly cut in. “They always do.” She was the blunt side of a sword.

  My cheeks reddened. “It’s more than that. He’s more than that.” I paused, realizing how deep of a grave I was digging for myself, but not doing a thing to stop. “Which is why I’m currently panicking at my lack of interest in clothing. Why am I panicking? I never panic,” I finished with a groan. It was hopeless. There was nothing in the room that would project the way I felt about having an intimate conversation with the man who had more layers than an onion.