He hated that the asshole had gotten to him that way. He hated that he let everything take him right to that edge. He’d just wanted to have a nice night out with someone who wasn’t a total weasel, but apparently it was too much to ask.
Swallowing against the lump in his throat, he started his car and told himself that while the night was totally shot, he did have a cute kitten to come home to, and a ton of bakes that would let him eat deep into his feelings.
Peyton sat in his driveway long enough that it started to get cold inside his car. Just before he started shivering, he let himself out and started toward the door, going stock-still when he heard a gruff voice call out, “You okay?”
His heart thumped until he realized that the voice was way deeper than Austin’s, and it was familiar. He peered around the edge of the sidewalk and saw Hudson in his chair watching with dark eyes. Peyton scrubbed both hands over his face as he walked a little closer.
“Do I look that bad?”
Hudson snorted a laugh without smiling. “You sat in your car and stared at the wall for almost twenty minutes.”
“Shit,” he breathed out, glancing around like maybe somehow the position of the moon would confirm Hudson’s words. “Was it really that long?”
“Near to it. Bad night?”
Peyton’s heart gave a little flutter because he definitely didn’t expect his neighbor to give a shit enough to ask if he was okay. Yeah, they’d made progress the other night, but this was like alternate universe levels of weird.
“Forget I asked,” Hudson grumbled when Peyton was quiet for too long. He grabbed his wheels and started forward toward his ramp, and Peyton’s heart sped up.
“Bad date,” he blurted.
Hudson froze, then turned slowly. “How bad?”
“Pretty fucking bad,” Peyton said with a shattered laugh. “The guy was an asshole of the epic kind. Like maybe the worst date I’ve ever been on.”
“I have friends, you know. Who are okay with being a little morally grey if you need us to track this guy down,” Hudson offered.
Peyton laughed again, this time a little lighter. “Okay, not that much of an asshole. He just…” Peyton didn’t want to tell Hudson exactly what the guy said because a lot of people didn’t get what the big deal was, and he just didn’t have the energy to explain it one more fucking time. “He said some shit, so I left the date, then he tried to follow me out to the parking lot. I think I’m cursed.”
Hudson stared a good long moment, then jerked his head toward the door. “Wanna come inside? You can meet my bird.”
Peyton blinked in surprise. “You want me to meet your bird?”
Hudson scoffed as he gripped his wheels and rolled up the ramp. “Sure, if you want. He’s a total asshole though, so be warned. It was a parting gift from my ex-husband, who said he didn’t want me to be lonely.”
Peyton grimaced because on the outside, it seemed like a sweet gesture, but he could see it for the dig it was. It was hard to argue, considering that Hudson was abrasive and rude on his best days, but everyone deserved to have people who cared about them. And the more he was getting to know his neighbor, the more he realized that Hudson did have a soft center.
Maybe not like marshmallow fluff, but at least a little bit like saltwater taffy.
He scoffed at his own internal monologue and quickly followed Hudson inside, hoping the man would distract him so he wouldn’t lose his filter and say all that shit aloud.
Hudson’s place was exactly the way Peyton imagined it would be. It was an organized clutter with low tables covered in papers—some of them printed on, others drawn on. He didn’t have any bookshelves or art, but he had plants and in the far corner next to a massive TV was one of those architect drawing tables he saw in the movies.
“What do you do?” he blurted.
Hudson half-spun his chair. “What?”
Peyton slapped his hand over his face and dragged it down. “Sorry. I mean for work.” He gestured weakly at the drafting table. “You design stuff?”
For whatever reason, that made Hudson’s cheeks pink and his mouth twitch. “Yeah, you could say I design stuff. Did you really come in here to talk about my job?”
Peyton shrugged and let out a nervous laugh. “Considering you, like, never really talk about yourself, yeah. I guess I kind of did. It sounds better than talking about my crap date.”
There was a flash of something like sympathy in Hudson’s eyes and he sighed, gesturing to the sofa. “Beer?”
“Water?” Peyton suggested instead. He could drink more since his surgery, but it still always made him feel like crap.
Hudson shrugged like he didn’t care, which was unusual since Peyton’s friends usually gave him shit about not drinking, and he wheeled away, leaving Peyton alone. He glanced around the room for another moment, then flopped onto the sofa which was the strangest mixture of stiff and comfortable.