“Sorry. Sorry he was…that was uh…” Peyton shrugged and bit his lip. “I didn’t think he was going to do that.”
Hudson wanted to rage. He’d worked his ass off to escape his ex and all the shit Austin put him through, only forthisfucker to bring him back into his life? But the thought only lasted a minute because he could see Peyton was either on the verge of screaming or crying. Or maybe both.
“I have beer,” he eventually said. “Shitty dates usually feel better after some beer.”
Peyton laughed. “Yeah, not for me. Um. But I have brownies?”
Hudson groaned in spite of himself. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Peyton looked a little less like he was on the verge of collapse. “You want to share?”
“I’ll leave my door open,” Hudson said, then he spun his chair and hurried inside so he could take a second to process what the fuck he’d just seen.
Throwing his keys on the table, he wheeled into the back room to open the office door and check on Pancake who was sitting on the top of the cage preening. The bird didn’t acknowledge his existence, which was probably for the best. Although Pancake had no say in where he came from, Hudson still struggled to look at the thing some days, and tonight would be rough.
He took a deep breath, then headed for his room when he heard a hesitant knock on his door. “I’m just changing,” he called out. “Make yourself comfortable.”
He hoped Peyton understood that changing wasn’t a quick thing for him, though he did his best to rush it. He slung sweats over his arm, then headed into the bathroom and grabbed a catheter so he could take a quick piss. He was more profoundly aware of the clock than ever as he wiped himself off, then braced himself on the end of the toilet so he could switch from his trousers to his sweats.
By the time he was dressed and back in his chair, he was a little calmer. His head was still racing because seeing his ex after a hundred years would be too fucking soon, let alone a few months, but he had to remind himself it wasn’t Peyton’s fault.
Probably.
There was very little chance Peyton knew who Austin was. And he liked to think Peyton was the sort of guy who wouldn’t have dated a man like Austin if he knew what his ex had put him through.
His hands felt a little sweaty as he pushed himself into the living room, and he found Peyton on the sofa, hunched over one of his little bento-like boxes, picking at the brownies. His entire body was still tense, and Hudson fought back the irrational urge to put his arms around him.
“Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want to eat and forget?”
Peyton looked up as Hudson set his brake and carefully slid from his chair to the cushion one space away from where Peyton was perched. He licked his lips, then sighed. “Have you dated since you became disabled?”
Hudson startled at the question, but he shook his head. “No. But to be fair, it’s not really about the disability. My ex did a pretty big fucking number on me.”
Peyton looked devastated. “Yeah. After those two dates with him, I can see how that’s possible. He um.” Peyton bit his lips between his teeth and shook his head. “I guess I don’t really need to explain that to you, do I?”
Hudson almost laughed. “No, but if you want to, I’m here to listen. At the very least I get it.”
Peyton nodded, his gaze going back to the brownies. After a beat and a deep breath, he passed the box over. Hudson told himself not to indulge—to be a good friend and pay attention to Peyton’s pain—but they looked too good. He broke off a corner and groaned at the taste.
“What the fuck? They’re amazing. What flavor is this?”
“Thin Mint,” Peyton said, “though I can’t call it that because, you know, trademark shit. Mint wafer inspired, I guess?” He huffed a soft laugh, but he looked like he was genuinely pleased with Hudson’s reaction. “I haven’t gotten to the naming process yet. They’re new.”
“How about heaven, because I think I’ve just been transported,” Hudson said, taking another bite, then he grimaced. “God, was that corny as fuck or what?”
Peyton just laughed and shook his head, settling back. His fingers were still twisting together, though, which told Hudson that he had more to say besides his bad date. “So, I went to this really brief group therapy after my surgery. It was during the afternoons, and they served bad coffee and knock-off Oreos. My therapist suggested it, and it took me a while to get the courage to show up. It felt kind of pointless for me to be there because it was just some general—so your life has changed—kind of thing. My therapist told me not to compare our situations, you know? Like there were people who had spinal injuries, or who had just gone blind, or lost limbs. And I was just sitting there with my colon shitting into a bag, which in hindsight, was making memoreable to live my life.”
Hudson set the brownies down and turned to face him. “Your life still changed, though. And so did your body.”
Peyton blew out a puff of air. “Yeah. At the time, I felt like all the stuff they said wouldn’t apply to me. I mean, I knew dating would be weird when I started seeing people who didn’t know me. But I didn’t think—” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat before looking up at Hudson with pained eyes. “He kissed myforehead. Like, he got out of the car and pinned me to the wall and kissed my forehead after telling me what a good job I did at dinner.”
Hudson swallowed thickly. “What did you do that was so good?”
Peyton’s laugh was harsh and bitter. “I don’t know. I ate my fucking food? I drank some water? I made conversation like a normal goddamn human being? We just went out to eat,” he said, throwing his hands up. “Then I told him about my stoma and suddenly I became some infant to him that…” He trailed off, and Hudson realized he wasn’t going to finish that thought.
Bowing his head, he knew he had to come clean. He dug into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and he opened up his photos. He had exactly four photos of Austin saved, and he wasn’t really sure why, but they served a purpose now.
“Remember how I told you about my shit ex?”