The Fixed Trilogy(Fixed on You, Found in You, Forever With You)(321)

The minute the final applause began, I took off. As discreetly as possible, I slipped off the stage and to the back hall, hoping Hudson didn’t see me and follow.

Or hoping he did follow. I couldn’t quite decide.

Of course my stuff was in the last dressing room in the hall, but I made it there without anyone behind me. My hands were shaking as I gathered my clothes from the floor where I’d left them. Looking around, I realized I had nothing to carry them in. Shit.

I could change. Or get them later.

Later.

I should have at least folded them, but there wasn’t time for that. Instead, I set them on the dressing room chair, grabbed my purse from the corner of the room where I’d stowed it under my clothing, and turned to go.

But there he was, filling the doorframe.

My shoulders sagged, but my stupid heart did a little dance.

Dammit, feelings were confusing.

He looked even better up close. Was it possible he’d gotten more attractive in our time apart? His blue-gray t-shirt hugged his muscles, which seemed more pronounced than I’d remembered. His faded dark jeans hung low around his trim hips. His eyes were soft and sad with bags underneath them that matched his sister’s. Matched mine.

And the way he looked at me…as if I were more than a silly, emotional, broken girl. As if I were someone who mattered. As if I were someone he loved.

“Hey,” he said softly. His voice was like the pied piper, calling goose bumps to the surface of my skin with just one word. Did he even know he had that effect on me?

The way his hands were stuffed in his pockets, making him look so boyish and innocent, I had to think he had no idea.

Except, no matter how he looked, he wasn’t innocent. Not at all. It was even manipulative that he’d shown up here.

I folded my arms over my chest, as if that could protect me from his piercing gaze. “You’re not supposed to be here, Hudson. Mira promised you wouldn’t be.”

He pursed his lips. “Mira had nothing to do with me coming.”

I started to say something snarky, and then softened as I remembered where he was supposed to be. “Weren’t you taking Sophia to rehab?”

God, that was blunt.

I wanted to say something more comforting, something to let him know I was feeling for him, but I was afraid my compassion might be construed as something else. So I left it at that.

“Already done. I hurried back.” He took a step into the room. “So I could talk to you.”

His quiet tone was so un-Hudson-like, it put me off-balance.

Or his presence in general put me off-balance.

I sighed, rocking from one foot to the other. I should leave. But there were things I wanted to hear him say, whether I could trust them or not. “If you wanted to talk to me so badly, why did you leave yesterday?”

“I had to be at my parents’ for the intervention. If I stayed, I wouldn’t have been able to leave. It was hard enough to leave as it was.” He tilted his head. “And I thought perhaps it was best to let you have your space.”

If he kept saying all the right things, I was screwed.

What am I thinking? I’m screwed anyway.

I leaned against the wall behind me. “But you’re here now.” When he’d promised he wouldn’t be. “How is that letting me have space?”

Do I really want space?

It was hard to answer that question. On the one hand, the walls of the dressing room felt like they were closing in around me. On the other hand, the distance between Hudson and me seemed wider than the Mississippi.

“I couldn’t stay away anymore.” As far away as he was, his words found their destination, piercing through the ice around my heart. “Why were you at the loft?”

I couldn’t stay away anymore. “Because I’m weaker than you give me credit for.”

He stared at the blank wall to the side of us as he scratched the back of his neck. “I was hoping it wasn’t weakness, but a sign that you still cared.” His eyes swung back to me, searching for my reaction.

I almost laughed. “Of course I still care, you asshole. I’m in love with you. You shattered my fucking heart.”

His eyes closed in a long blink. “Alayna, let me fix it.”

“You can’t.”

“Let me try.”

“How?” It was a rhetorical question because there was no answer for it. “Even if I can figure out how to forgive you, I can’t trust you again. I could never believe that you were with me for any reason other than to continue your sick game.”

He flinched only slightly. “I quit all that. You heard me.”

I shrugged. “Maybe it was all a set-up. Maybe you knew I was there the whole time.” He hadn’t known I was there—his expression of surprise when he saw me was genuine. But there were still pounds of bitterness inside me that I had yet to expunge.