Chapter 12
Audrey’s heart cracked right in two as Hudson stood there, broad shoulders rigid, hand white knuckling the phone. It was obvious that his celebration yesterday had been premature, and the worst had come to pass. Tears clogged her own throat on his behalf. This would break him in a way nothing else could.
“Did he ever wake up?” The voice that had been full of fun and laughter just minutes before now trembled.
His shoulders slumped at Rachel’s answer. For a few more minutes, he listened, grunting monosyllabic responses as a muscle jumped in his jaw. “I’ll be there.”
As soon as he hung up the phone, Audrey crossed the room. She wasn’t even sure he saw her. But she slid her arms around him anyway, needing to do anything she could to comfort him. “I’m so sorry.”
He stood rigid, his breath ragged. She held him tighter, willing him to take what she offered. At long last, he wrapped around her, burying his face in her hair. He began to shake, the force of the emotions he was holding back almost too great to bear. Audrey wanted to tell him to just let go, that he didn’t have to be strong with her, that he could grieve. But she didn’t know how he’d respond. Instead she stroked his back, hoping the fact that he wasn’t alone was, at least, a little bit of comfort.
“I’m going home.” His voice was muffled, thick with emotion.
“Of course, you are.” He’d hardly stay at camp after this. The funeral would probably be in a few days. “When?”
He pulled away. “Today. Now.”
Even expecting it, Audrey couldn’t stop the visceral rejection of that. No. She’d just found him. She wasn’t ready to let him go. But she swallowed back the protests. This wasn’t about her. “Okay. I’ll help you pack.”
Recognizing that he needed to move, she towed him toward the door. Hudson dropped her hand to scoop up his pack and followed. They didn’t speak on the walk to his cabin. Nor did they touch. With every step, she could feel him retreating from her, and she didn’t know what to do about it.
Charlie wasn’t at the cabin, and she was grateful to have a little while longer alone with Hudson. They went through the motions, gathering up his stuff. When he would have just shoved it all into his bags, she stopped to fold things, wanting to delay his departure and not at all sure he was in any shape to drive. She didn’t dare ask if he was okay. He clearly wasn’t.
“Maybe you should wait a little bit, until you’ve had some time to process this, before you get behind the wheel.”
The gaze he turned on her was flat, a desolate nothing that was worse than anger or pain. “They’re waiting for me. I need to go.”
He needed to run. To escape. Desperation was clear in every staccato movement. He was barely holding it together, and Audrey was terrified of what might happen when he really broke.
“I could come with you.” The words were out before she could think better of them. It was too soon, too intimate. A thing you offered when you were in a true relationship, and they were…Audrey didn’t know what they were. But they’d shared more than just fun and laughter this week. More than sex. That had to count for something.
“What?”
“I could go back to Syracuse with you.”
“Why?”
His tone was so baffled, she regretted making the offer. But she’d already started down this path, so she pushed on. “For you. To be a support. To help. Whatever you need.”
For the first time since they’d met, Hudson stared at her like the freak she’d so often felt like. The strange one. The out-of-sync. And she knew she’d said the wrong thing.
“This is my real life, Audrey. The real world. Whatever we’ve had, whatever this has been, ends at the camp property line. We agreed on that.”
No, they’d agreed not to talk about it. Maybe an ending had been implicit, but she’d thought, after last night—
“There’s no room for this where I’m going. You’re a distraction I can’t afford.”
He was grieving, angry at the world and blaming himself. She was the nearest target. But even seeing that, knowing it, didn’t diminish the pain of his words. How could he reduce what they’d shared to a mere distraction?
Audrey knit her hands and hated herself for the show of weakness. She had to work at keeping her voice steady. “You’ve helped me through so much. I just wanted to return the favor.”
“I appreciate the thought, but I don’t need help.”
“Everybody needs help sometimes. There’s no shame in that.”
“And what help would you be, exactly? You need rescuing every time you turn around. I can’t be that guy. Especially not now. I’ve got too much on my plate.”
She flinched away as if he’d struck her. “I didn’t ask you to rescue me,” she whispered. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“Neither did I.” He tossed his duffel bags over his shoulder. “Goodbye, Audrey.” And without another word, he walked out.
She sank down on his bed, her knees knocking together too hard to continue to stand. She was still sitting there some time later when Charlie and Sam came into the cabin, laughing and joking.
“Audrey! You’re back! How did the great camping trip go?” Sam asked.
“Hey, where’s Hudson’s stuff?” Charlie asked.
Audrey raised her head to look at them, her whole body feeling leaden from her own grief. “Gone,” she managed and burst into tears.
~*~
“Firefighter John Matthew McCleary—Lehigh County Dispatch.”
The sound of the radio was too loud over the sober masses by the graveside. It raked Hudson’s already raw nerves and made him want to scream. The waiting silence as the dispatcher began John’s last call was worse.
“Firefighter John Matthew McCleary—Lehigh County Dispatch.”
Hud’s hands curled to fists as he stared at the flag-draped coffin on the little dais beneath the tent. He wanted to think his heart couldn’t break any further, but every moment of this funeral shattered it just a little more.
“Having heard no response, we know that Firefighter McCleary has responded to his last call on Earth and that the fire department in the hereafter has a new responder.”
A soft, choked noise came from Rachel as the dispatcher continued.
“Firefighter McCleary served the citizens of Lehigh County for twelve years. We appreciate Firefighter McCleary’s dedication and his family’s sacrifices during the time he was a Firefighter. Your warm laugh and ready smile will be missed.” The dispatcher’s voice hitched for a moment before she continued. “Firefighter McCleary, you have now become a Guardian who will help watch out for all Firefighters as they respond to emergencies. You’ve completed your tour as a Firefighter in this life and are clear to remain with the Lord forever. Goodbye, and we’ll take it from here.”
The dispatcher signed off, advising all units of a moment of silence.
When it was done, the bugler, set up on a hill about twenty-five yards away, began to play TAPS. Hudson stepped toward the casket, along with another of the honor guard, and began to fold the flag. It was a ritual he’d performed just months ago for Steve. He’d barely held it together for Steve’s mom. The fresh pain of John’s death all but took him to his knees as his hands performed their duty. He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to hold on to his emotions for Rachel’s sake. Per ceremony, he turned to present the flag to the fire chief, who turned and knelt, presenting it to Rachel. John’s widow, who would never again hear her husband laugh or make jokes, would never bear his children, or grow old by his side. In unrelieved black and the pearls John had given her for their fifth anniversary, she clutched the flag, lifting her eyes to Hudson’s.
God, how could she even look at him?
Shame that he was the reason for this clogged his throat. But he didn’t look away. He owed Rachel that much. They held each other’s gaze, lost in shared grief, until Hudson realized the other mourners were filing away. The funeral was over. Everything was over. And he didn’t have the first clue how to go on living. He moved to Rachel, wanting to offer—what? His condolences? His service? His life? The wish that he could trade places with John and give them the long life together they’d deserved? Nothing would ever be enough to make up for John’s sacrifice.
“Rach, I—” What could he say? In the end, he said nothing, wrapping his arms around her. As she rested her head against his chest, the flag trapped between them, he looked away, searching the crowds for some kind of an answer, some sort of guidance.
A flash of red hair had him going stock still, his heart shooting into his throat. But the woman walking away from the graveside had too even a gait in the three-inch heels and none of the scars crisscrossing the legs that were bare beneath the black funeral dress. Not Audrey. Of course, it wouldn’t be Audrey. He’d made it perfectly, painfully clear where they stood that last day at camp. Nowhere.
It had to be that way. When she’d made her offer, every cell in his body had wanted to grab her up and fall to his knees in thanks that she was willing to endure this with him. And he didn’t deserve that kindness. He didn’t deserve any sort of a buffer against the grief and guilt. How could he possibly have accepted her offer of support, when Rachel was here with no one? Never mind the friends and family who’d turned out, lining the streets of town. She was alone because of him, and Hudson couldn’t even think of moving on with his own life now.
So, he’d lashed out, striking at her in the only way that would ensure she’d stay at camp and not do something crazy like come up to Syracuse on her own. In his way, he’d meant it. There was no room for her in the life he had here. Because eventually her sweet nature and enthusiasm for the second chance she’d been given would heal him—which he didn’t deserve. Or those same things he loved about her would dim. Her light would go out in the face of the toxic shit that was his world right now—and she deserved better than that. So, he’d been cruel, saving her one last time, this time from him.
No, Audrey wouldn’t be coming back into his life. But he realized, as he stared at the retreating back of the other woman, that a part of him had been looking for her anyway.
“Hud? What is it?” Rachel was following his gaze.
He shook himself. “It’s nothing.”
She’d be expected back at the house for the reception. It would be overflowing with family, friends, other first responders. He dreaded the whole thing and couldn’t imagine how she was bearing up so well under the strain. But he’d be there. He’d do whatever could be done to lighten her load. He’d take care of her in John’s absence.
With a sigh, he steeled himself. “Are you ready?” The moment the words were out, he wished he could take them back. Was anyone ever ready to face the endless sympathy and parade of casseroles that hammered home the death of a loved one?
Rachel kissed her fingers, then laid them over the polished wood of the coffin. The finality of the gesture gutted him. Then she straightened her shoulders and took the arm he offered. “Let’s go honor my husband.”