Right As Rain (Complete)

Chapter 16

Maelee

"I love you," Hudson says, gently pressing a kiss to my forehead. The words fall effortlessly from his lips and coat my apprehensions. Flashing lights and commanding screams surround us on each side, everyone wants their own glimpse of the handsome man in his black suit. My already discontent nerves are overwhelmed as the crowd continues to grow. "Forget about all this. It's just you and me," he whispers, delicately adjusting the strap of my sparkling black dress.

I reach for him, but he's gone. Just as quickly as he offered his protection, he left. The paparazzi fog together in a sea of torture and I'm lost in their waves, brought to shore only long enough to crash against the sand, and then be pulled out again. Unable to breathe, I beg for rescue.

A strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls me to safety. The low rumble of his voice eases my anxiety. "I've got you," he says. "I won't let you go."

I fight away my tears and force a posed smile until Hudson finally raises his hand, fending the cameras away. "I hate this," I quietly tell him.

"I know. I'm so sorry." His heart breaks with the honesty of each pain-laced word. "You don't have to do this," he says, his constant reminder that if I want another life, he will gladly give it to me. I know I have a choice, but my choice is him and I will never ask him to be anything other than who he is.

The crowd disappears and the space surrounding us is black. We are illuminated by a spotlight in the distance. The only sound comes from the comical, cartoon-like blinking of our eyes and Hudson's shoe squeaking against the white floor. Face to face in the quiet, he studies me adoringly. "You don't have to do this," he repeats, cupping my hands inside of his own and holding them to his chest.

I feel nothing but love and adoration for the man in front of me. Regardless of the disturbances and inconveniences of our lives together, there is no way I would ever walk away. "It's you and me," I say, repeating his words from earlier. He presses another soft kiss to my skin, this time on my cheek, and it leaves a wash of warmth in its wake.

Uncontrollable shudders arise in my chest when blood begins to flow from between our laced fingers. I try to pull away, but he draws me back in. Like an amble creek the heavy warmth of the tepid fluid streams from our hands and onto to the floor where it pools at our feet and laps against our ankles. Undoubtedly, the dark crimson springs from my hands not his, but Hudson doesn't remove his loving gaze. It's as if he doesn't even notice the blood bath between us. Perhaps he doesn't. If he does, he doesn't seem to care.

The high-pitched trilling of my phone wakes me from the alarmingly realistic dream. It's 03:00 and time for Noah's blood draw. I sit up slowly from the couch and orient myself to the familiarity of my office before slipping on a pair of canvas shoes and making my way down the hall. I walk in quietly, hoping not to wake Noah asleep in his bed, Hudson sprawled out on the couch, or Jess curled in the chair.

I gently pull Noah's hand towards me to access his IV. The steady flow of his blood into the vial gives me an unnerving feeling; I still don't know what's wrong with him. I keep testing, I keep looking, and I keep getting further and further away.

"He's not going to give up," Noah mumbles, adjusting himself so I have better access to his arm.

Do I want Hudson to give up? If I'm honest, the truth is probably not. It doesn't really matter though, it doesn't change that Noah is my patient and Hudson is his friend. It also doesn't change that Hudson's life is much different from my own. In my dream, he was clearly bothered by the havoc surrounding him. But part of me thinks his pain was from my response to the havoc, not the havoc itself.