He hadn’t sweat half as much during his session and his plans for being able to escape quickly went right down the drain. Originally, he had no plans to take a shower, but now he needed to take up time, so he rolled into the stall and started the water before parking his chair, stripping, and moving onto the bench.
The grapefruit scent of the bulk soap the office stocked was a little bit of a trigger for him. It reminded him of early days where he’d sweat buckets like he’d run fifty miles in one go just trying to push against a two-pound resistance band. He was no longer that nervous man who had no idea what his future was going to look like—the man whose life had fallen apart and whose marriage was quickly crumbling—but he could remember what it was like as though it were yesterday.
And he never wanted to be that person again. He never wanted to feel so fucking defeated ever again.
He rinsed quickly, then sat under the spray for another two minutes before finally turning the water off and getting dressed into his work clothes. The polo felt itchy on his skin, and he made a mental note to have Aspen look into it since she insisted on being in charge of the merch, and they were selling them on their website.
He didn’t want people to be distracted from buying dildos because their t-shirts were scratchy.
Rolling up to the short mirror, Hudson combed his hair, then put on a couple swipes of deodorant before packing his bag. He was just zipping up when the door opened, and his heart gave a little thud before he saw Dan’s head poking around the corner.
“She’s gone?” Hudson asked.
“She’s still in the parking lot,” he admitted. “I’m not sure she’s going to leave unless you go out there.”
Hudson groaned and slapped a hand over his face. He didn’t have time to hide in a locker room until one in the fucking morning. He was going to have to face her. “Thanks for trying,” he said. “I’ll pick up the walker next week. I need to be able to get the hell out fast.” He was a goddam expert now at transferring to his SUV, his upper body strength enough that he could probably take on The Rock if they were both sitting down.
He'd just have to put up with her incessant bitching until he got the door shut and the engine started.
Dragging a hand down his face, he hitched his bag over his shoulder and shot a wave at Dan as he rolled through the door. “See you next week.” He normally hated PT, but he’d take a hundred hour-long sessions over dealing with his goddamn mother.
She spotted him the moment he came out of the doors, and he was halfway to his car when she started walking toward him. “Hudson.”
He kept going, pausing by the back door to throw his bag inside. It would be tricky getting around her so he could lift up onto the seat, but he could do it.
“Hudson. Don’t you ignore me. This is serious. I’ve been beside myself all week. The doctor is worried about my heart now thanks to all the stress you’ve put me through. And I realize you don’t care whether or not I live or die, but you could try showing some compassion.”
He laughed. He didn’t mean to. His therapist had told him it was important not to react or engage when she tried emotional blackmail, but the thought of her keeling over because he wouldn’t talk to her was hilarious.
“Oh? You think my condition isfunny?”
He got the door open and was up on the driver’s seat in seconds. She appeared at his side like he expected her to, but when he reached down for his chair, she put both hands on it. She hadn’t been brave enough to touch any of his mobility devices since his surgery, so it startled him enough that he pulled back.
“You’re not leaving until you listen to me,” she spat.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket, then looked her dead in the eye. “Yes, I am. And I will leave my wheelchair here. I will record you holding it, then record myself dragging my body into my office, and I’ll post it on the fucking internet for the entire world to see what an absolute monster you are.”
“I’m the monster?” she asked, her mouth twisting. “When you live a life of…of…”
“Happiness? Contentment? Or did you mean debauchery and gay sex?” he added with a grin.
She snatched her hands away like the chair was made of hot coals. “Do you think going hell for all eternity is funny, Hudson?”
“I think it’s hilarious,” he said dryly. “You’ve been threatening me with it since I married Austin.”
“You’re divorced,” she said, lunging for the door so he couldn’t close it after he got his chair inside. It was upside down and haphazard—probably bending the frame a little, but he could fix that. It was better than taking the time to pull the wheels off. “Surely you’ve come to understand—”
“I’ve come to understand,” he interrupted sharply, “that I’m a gay man with a spinal injury whose husband left him because being married to a disabled man was too much for him. Just like having a queer disabled son was too much for you.”
“You know I pray for you every day,” she said. “The entire congregation prays for you. We’re trying to help you.”
He scoffed. “Right. Yes. Because it’s done wonders so far. Thank you, Mother, but I don’t need your version of help.”
“Hudson, will you just listen—”
Hudson took his phone and used it to pry her hands off his door without having to actually touch her. “I have to go. We’re having a meeting about ten-inch dildos today and I need to pick out my product testers.”
“Hudson!”