“Are you in love with her?”

“In love with her?” I repeat the question, the L-word feeling different than the others as it spills from my mouth. I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind at some point in the last several weeks, but I’d quickly pushed it away, not ready to tackle that baby just yet.

Grams waits patiently for my answer, leaning back in the cushioned wicker rocking chair out on the front porch, where she’s brought me for our chat. And with that first question, she came out firing.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” I slowly admit as I cross my arms over my chest, looking out over the resort property, lit up by twinkling white Christmas lights strung across the roofs of the lodge and all of the individual cabins.

My gaze is immediately drawn to cabin number eight, and the memories of Hudson during that first week we stayed here bombard me. From the first moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she was different than any girl I’d met before, and after our first kiss, I knew she’d be mine. The natural chemistry between us was undeniable…is undeniable.

“Do I like her? Adore her? Think she’s damn near perfect? Definitely. I’ve never felt with anyone what I feel when I’m with her,” I continue, leaning my weight against the wood railing, “but I’m not sure we’ve known each other long enough to say we love each other, or even if we’re in love.”

“Let me make it easy for you,” she says, her face softening. “Is she the last thing you think about before you go to sleep each night and the first thing you think about when you wake up every morning?”

That’s a no-brainer. “Yes. Without a doubt.”

Nodding, she chuckles lightly. “Right. So what’s your plan to get her back?”

“Well, first, I quit my job at the bar, and Doug got me a job at The Green Halo helping Danny,” I reply, unsure if she’s aware I’m working there or not.

“Yes, my son shared that tidbit of information with me. What else do you have?”

“I’m crashing on a friend’s couch temporarily,” I drop down in the chair next to her and lean forward, bracing my forearms on my knees, “but his lease is up at the end of next month, so assuming we don’t kill each other and I’m able to save up some money, we’re going to get a two-bedroom place together. I also filled out an application at the local community college to enroll for the spring semester, which Mom has offered to pay for, since she moved in with Luke and her expenses are less. They said I’d know next week whether I was accepted or not, but I did pretty well in high school and on my SATs, so I’m not concerned.”

She holds her hand up in the air to stop me from going on. “Everything you just said is great and all, but what does any of that have to do with Hudson?”

“Once I get my life put back together, I can prove to her that I’m worthy of her, that I’ve healed after everything with Caleb.” The ache of emptiness in my chest still throbs every time I say his name, but my new therapist says the physical pain will gradually lessen with time.

The disapproval on Grams’ face is unmistakable. “And how long is that going to take? Two or three months? Are you ready to repeat what you did tonight for however long it takes you to get all of your ducks in a row? ‘Cause I can promise you right now, she’s gonna try to drink or screw you out of her system until she’s actually able to let you go. Is that what you want?”

“Of course it’s not.” Dropping my head, I grab fistfuls of my hair and tug hard, trying to erase the mental images she’s providing me. The jealousy I felt earlier seeing Hudson in the guy’s lap made me damn near homicidal. “What am I supposed to do though?”

“Not wait two damn months, for starters,” she exclaims as she slaps her hands on her lap. “That girl inside that house—that girl you’re in love with, whether or not you want to admit it or not—she’s a fixer. Ever since she was a little kid, all she’s ever wanted to do was to fix everyone’s problems for them, never worrying about her own. When she found out about Caleb’s epilepsy, all she wanted to do was help him get better. When you were dealing with your loss of your brother, she swept aside her own time for grieving and focused all of her attention on you, doing everything she could to offer you support and comfort. It’s who she is.

“Now she’s the one who’s broken; she’s the one who needs to be fixed, and you’re the only person who can do that. Are you going to leave her suffering while you try to work out all of your stuff by yourself, or are you going to apologize to her—on your damn knees, if that’s what it takes—and help each other heal?”

Wow.

When she puts it that way, I want to run back through the front door, shake Hudson to consciousness, tell her how sorry I am for everything, and plead with her to take me back.

Then, I want to have out-of-this-world make-up sex. For hours. Days. Until I’m the only guy she’ll ever think about in bed again.

Grams must recognize the desperate look in my face, because she stands up and offers me her hand, pulling me out of the chair. “Go home and think about what I said. If you’re serious about making it work, you need to show her how you feel. Just don’t wait around for the timing to be perfect, because there’s no such thing in life. You have to make it the perfect time.”

The conversation with Grams plays on an endless loop in my head—during the drive to Rory’s apartment, through my attempt to sleep, and when I wake up the following morning and go to work. She’s right. I need to fix shit with Hudson, and I need to do it ASAP. The girl consumes my thoughts day and night, and I want her to be by my side as I attempt to tackle all of these goals. If that means I love her, well then, so be it.

Fuck, that word is scary though.

When we collide into each other in the back room at The Green Halo, her presence completely catches me off guard, and I end up acting like a tool throughout the short conversation. So badly, I just want to blurt out I’m sorry and want her back, and that I’ll do whatever it takes to fix everything, but I don’t.

I’m a fucking coward, afraid she’ll reject me. So I heehaw around my words, only drawing up enough courage to ask her about her arm as she’s walking out the fucking door.

Then she’s gone.

And I still haven’t apologized.

Forgetting all about whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing for Danny, I sprint out the door to catch her before she drives away, pride be damned, and to my surprise, she’s stomping across the parking lot, headed directly for me. And she’s pissed.

She pulls up just short of where I’m standing, with her hands fisted on her hips and an irritated scowl etched onto her face. “How did you know about my arm?”

Shit! Why in the world did I open my big, fat mouth?

“I’m the one who treated and bandaged your arm last night after I took you home from the party,” I reply quietly, knowing it’s time I start telling her the truth, even as I prepare myself for the angry outburst sure to follow. Knowing her, it’s inevitable.

“You did what?!” she shouts, her eyes bulging out of her head.

As I reach out to rest my hands on her arms, a futile attempt to calm her down, she side-steps out of my grasp with flared nostrils. “Don’t touch me! And you better start explaining what in the fuck happened last night. How did you even know where I was?”

Dragging my fingers through my messy hair, I inhale a fortifying breath through my nose and slowly blow it out of my wind-chapped lips. “I’m not sure how much you remember, but Rory—the guy I used to bartend with and whose apartment I’m staying at now—was at the party, and he called to let me know you were there and that you were drunk and hanging on some other guy.”