You Make Me Weak (The Blackwells of Crystal Lake 1)

“You look amazing, Becs.”

Rebecca’s head shot up so fast, she saw stars, and for a second, she had nothing to say. Not that it mattered. Hudson gave her a small nod. “I just thought you should know.” And headed toward the dairy aisle.

The anger inside her deflated—just a little bit—and that wasn’t something she’d seen coming.

“Mom. You look funny. You okay?”

She smiled wanly and motioned for Liam to head to the checkout. “I’m good,” she murmured, following her son. She scooped up a bottle of wine along the way because she was so not okay. Her heart was still beating a mile a minute. She felt weak and dizzy. And on top of that, something inside her ached. It ached so much, she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. And that was silly. Damn silly. She hadn’t shed a tear since the day she walked out on David, and she wasn’t about to do it now on account of some stupid trip down memory lane.

She especially wasn’t going to cry over Hudson Blackwell. That well had run dry years ago.

She gave herself a mental shake and stood in line for all of ten minutes, muscles straining from tension at the thought of Hudson appearing. He didn’t, and she wasn’t exactly sure if it was relief she felt or something else entirely.

Deciding she wouldn’t dwell on it, she grabbed her bags and headed out to the parking lot, the bottle of wine tucked under her arm. She had everything she needed. A new home and a new life. She’d escaped a miserable marriage, a bastard of a husband, and made something out of nothing. She shouldn’t feel like this.

Except she did. Because down there, buried deep inside her, was an empty space that needed filling up. And she was afraid it would remain empty the rest of her life.

Chapter 3

Hudson hated hospitals. The smell. The crazy order to things. The nurses and doctors. The cold tiled floors and bland walls filled with cheap prints of beaches and sailboats. His mood hadn’t improved since he’d returned home, and now that he’d finally made it to Grandview, he wasn’t so sure things would get better.

His phone buzzed just then, and with an apologetic glance to the nurse behind the reception desk—Ms. Daniels, according to her nametag—he pulled the device from his pocket and moved to the stairwell. It was his brother Wyatt.

“Yeah,” he said roughly, leaning his long frame against the cement wall.

“You see him yet?” That was Wyatt, straight to the point.

“I’m at Grandview now.”

A pause.

“Okay. Sorry I couldn’t be there.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Got me there. The last time I saw the old man, he told me I was gonna die young and not to bother calling him when it happened. I told him that would be kind of hard to do considering, you know, the whole being-dead thing. He just made that noise he always does and took a business call. Just like that, I was dismissed. Hell, I bet he didn’t realize I left Crystal Lake until days later.”

Hudson sighed. “Not to be on his side or anything, but that last crash was a son of a bitch.” His brother had a fondness for cars. Fast cars. Unfortunately for the family, he raced them and was currently the darling of the NASCAR circuit.

“Everyone crashes and I came out of it with nothing more than a mild concussion and a few bruises.”

“You were lucky.”

“Look, I didn’t call for a lecture. I called to see how the old man was doing.”

Hudson glanced at the door. “I’m about to find out.”

“You get hold of Travis yet?”

“I talked to him before I left DC. He’s got his first preseason game on Friday in Toronto.”

“Baby bro in the big leagues. Who would have thought?” The youngest Blackwell had lived and breathed hockey since he was three. It was their mother who’d taken them to the rink. Their mother who’d encouraged the boys when it came to sports, especially hockey. And when she died, Hudson lost his love of the game. Not Travis. To him, it became a lifeline, an escape from a home shrouded in sadness. Hell, he’d hitchhike to the arena if he had to, and that wasn’t too far from the truth considering their father had pretty much disappeared from their lives after their mother passed. He provided a roof over their head, put clothes on their backs, and made sure they didn’t go without. But that was about it.

It hadn’t always been that way.

Hudson cleared his throat, shaking off a memory he didn’t want to think about. “I’ll let you know how he’s doing.”

“All right. I’m headed to New England for a race.”