Todd patted Shaney’s knee and then stepped down from his Shaney soapbox. Shaney had never been more grateful for his best friend.
Hudson cocked an eyebrow and glanced over at Shaney. The next words from Hudson nearly floored Shaney. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Shaney.”
“Okay,” Shaney said. Hudson nodded and returned his focus to the road.
Chapter Nine
The further Todd had driven them from the cabin, the worse the trembling in Shaney’s hands had become. In the six hours since he’d returned home, the trembling had moved up his arms, expanding until his body vibrated down to the molecular level. A faint sheen of sweat dampened his skin. Tension coiled tight in his gut. Restlessness had him pacing, shaking, bouncing, twitching, jerking. An imperceptible need radiated from his very core, expanding past his capacity to contain the annoying want. His bones ached, skin itched, and jaw clenched so tight, his teeth hurt.
Todd had dropped Shaney off at their apartment the night before and left, saying he had to ‘check on some things.’ Left alone, Shaney now had to deal with whatever was happening to him. Reading, drinking, TV, running in place, push-ups, even standing on his head, had all proved useless in weakening the internal siege. No illness, allergic reaction, or concussion (count was up to three so far) he’d ever suffered matched this onslaught. Had Hudson been right? Had he been electrocuted? Was this an after-effect? Shaney was so confused.
Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on anything outside of the realm of Hudson and that fishing camp, but, over and over, his mind circled back to both. Hudson plagued his thoughts like an addiction, an irrational need. And that camp, with its absurd, meticulously-crafted symbols, called to him from miles away. Why would he even consider returning the scene where he’d been assaulted not once, but twice? A third visit, he was certain, would end in his death. But that didn’t matter. He wanted to be there and he wanted Hudson close. Christ, he was having a nervous breakdown.
Shaney looked down, realizing he clutched his phone tight in his hand. Did he need to call someone? Yes, he needed to call…someone. Of course, Hudson topped the list—but only because Shaney had a hard-on for the straight, perpetually annoyed man. Shaney chased the ‘who’ around his brain, like a faint memory hiding in the shadows. He wanted to yank out his hair. In about two minutes, he’d be climbing the walls or scaling the brick surface of his building. He banged his closed fist on his forehead, hoping to knock something loose, anything that actually made any sense.
Having covered every inch of his bedroom, Shaney returned to the living room, turning in circles. Six hours since he’d left Hudson. Six hours of clawing need and competing distractions cleaned house of all logical thought. A pinpoint focus of need. He would cut his right foot off to know what the fuck it wanted.
“Agh!” Shaney cocked his arm back to launch his phone against the brick wall when there was a knock at the door. He clutched at his head and attempted to ignore the grating noise.
“Shaney,” the muffled voice said through the door. “It’s Hudson.”
Shaney dropped his hands. “Hudson?” He could help, right?
More sharp bangs. “Shaney. If you don’t want me to break down your door, open it now.”
Shaney dashed to the door and threw it open, ready to beg and plead for Hudson to help him, when everything just stopped. The vibration, the need, the twitching, and the aching were gone.
“What’s wrong?” Hudson asked, no doubt seeing the bewildered look on Shaney’s face. He held two cups in his hands. The delicious smell of coffee curled around Shaney. “Are you feeling okay?”
Shaney looked down at his hands, waiting for the shaking. Nothing. Fuck, he was losing his mind.
“Shaney?”
Shaney raised his chin, captivated by the earnest look on Hudson’s face. “I’m good. Great actually. Is that for me?” he asked and pointed to a cup.
Hudson cocked his head, and Shaney could see just how much he disconcerted Hudson. “Yeah. Yeah.” Hudson considered the cups and then handed one over. “Not sure what you like.”
Shaney loved how flustered Hudson appeared.
“As long it has caffeine, it works. Let’s hit the road,” Shaney said, grabbing his fleece jacket and practically shoving Hudson out the door before him.
* * * *
The day had started out normal enough with a trip to the car wash—ironically, the same one Shaney had been fired from two months earlier. With a load of trepidation, Shaney had gingerly washed Hudson’s monstrous pile of metal after receiving the warning not to scratch Hudson’s ‘baby.’ Did anyone ever die from scratching someone’s baby?