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

“No,” she answered after a few seconds and turned back to him. “It’s not. It’s about what’s going to happen today. Or tomorrow. Or next week or next month. You’ll leave here again. You’ve built a life for yourself, a career in DC, so I get it.” Her voice broke, and he took a step toward her, but she shook her head and held up her hand. “But, Hudson, I can’t go back to the girl I was. I refuse to be broken again. I have Liam. I just can’t do it. I deserve someone who will stay. Someone who can stay.”

Hudson watched Rebecca begin to gather up their things from the floor in front of the fireplace. And though he wanted to grab her and hold her close, inhale that scent that was all hers, listen to her heart beat against his as her warmth bled into his body… He did none of that, because she was right. She deserved more. He was a bastard.

And he would leave.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, and I’ll probably be off the radar. I won’t be able to call you.” He hated the pain in her eyes. Pain he was responsible for. Again. “But I’m coming back.”

She offered a small smile and shrugged. “Okay.” Woodard banged on the door. “You should go. I’ll lock up and drop your truck at your dad’s.”

“Becca.”

“Please, Hudson. Let’s not make this a big deal. Go get the bad guy.”

Less than a minute later, he was gone.

Chapter 30

Funny how time made some things sharper, like pain and regret, while others, like joy and pleasure, became less memorable. It wasn’t exactly fair, but then, as Rebecca had learned early on, life was not about being fair. Life was about getting knocked down and picking your sorry ass back up.

In the three weeks since Hudson had left town, a lot had happened. Some of it good, but most of it unfair. John Blackwell was doing wonderfully, and Darlene had moved in with him. Liam had won an academic achievement award for the month, and she couldn’t be more proud of her son.

But Sal wasn’t doing so good, and with only a few days until Thanksgiving, Rebecca feared he wouldn’t make the holiday with his family. This man had come to mean so much to her, and even as he stared down the face of death, his humor and compassion were there. He cracked jokes through the pain and asked for only the minimal dosage of medication.

He’d told Rebecca he wanted to be aware. To cherish these last moments with his loved ones. Salvatore believed that death was beautiful. A beginning. And that the journey to the next world wasn’t one he wanted to miss. He would see his beloved Rosa again.

He was a hero in Rebecca’s eyes and the grandfather Liam never had. The man saw everything, and as she stole a bit of quiet time with him, she wasn’t surprised that his focus was on her and not himself.

His voice was low, his strength not so good, but there was still a twinkle in his eye as she bent forward to listen better.

“How’s Liam? He seemed quiet the other day.”

“He’s good. I mean, he’s upset.” Her throat tightened. “He loves you, and this is hard.”

“He’s a good boy, Rebecca. You should be proud.” Salvatore winced, and she stroked his forehead.

“Can I get you anything? Do you need more pain medication?”

Sal smiled weakly. “No. I’m not ready for that yet.” He focused on her. “What’s going on with the Blackwell kid?”

She smiled at that. Salvatore referred to anyone under the age of forty as a kid.

“Nothing,” she answered quietly.

“He come back yet?”

That surprised Rebecca. “How did you know he’d left?”

“Nash.” She shouldn’t be surprised. It wasn’t as if Sal didn’t know all about her history with Hudson.

“I don’t know if he’s coming back, and even if he does, he won’t stay. His life is in DC, and now that his father is on the mend, there’s no reason for him to hang around Crystal Lake.”

Sal’s voice was harsh. “You’re all the reason a man should need.”

“You’re too sweet.”

“I’m old and dying is what I am. That gives a person a certain amount of freedom to say what’s on their mind. Your light belongs to someone, Rebecca. Remember that. It’s strong, and if he’s deserving, he’ll find his way back to you.”

It was the last thing Salvatore said to Rebecca. He died early Sunday morning, just as the first major winter storm of the season hit Crystal Lake. It was as if the sky was angry, filled with bulbous gray clouds that produced enough snowfall to close the roads and make travel dicey. Schools were closed, and by the time things settled down, it was Wednesday.