So instead of running, instead of hiding away in a desperate attempt to protect myself, I look at Hudson and tell him the only truth I know.
“You’re right. Honesty won’t keep any of us from getting hurt,” I say as I think back to my conversation with Jaxon earlier that week. Our talk was as open and honest and devastating as any conversation I’ve ever had in my life, and we both walked away hurting. “But it does guarantee that we’re on the same page. And I think that’s all any of us can hope for.”
I see the words hit Hudson, see him absorb them like body blows. And that’s when I know that I have to tell him the whole truth, no matter how vulnerable, how exposed, how damaged it makes me feel.
Which is why I take a deep breath, do a slow count to five, and then blurt out, “Jaxon and I broke up.”
14
Talk to the Stone
Hudson’s eyes go wide, his face colorless. “You broke up?” he repeats, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.
I study his face, trying to figure out what he’s thinking or feeling, but astonishment is the only emotion I can get from him before everything goes blank.
Which isn’t exactly a surprise. I always thought Jaxon was good at hiding his emotions—if you discount the earthquakes, of course—but Hudson belongs in the World Series of Poker.
Even knowing that, I can’t help but get nervous as he stares at me with deliberately empty eyes. Which is probably why I start tripping over my tongue trying to explain myself. “We decided to take a break so we could…well, he brought it up, so I guess you could say he decided…but we talked and thought a break might—”
The more I babble, the more stonelike Hudson’s face becomes until I force myself to stop vomiting words and take an actual breath. As I do, I count backward from ten, and when I can finally think in some kind of coherent fashion, I start again. “He said it wasn’t right… Everyone was in pain…and things, well, things just weren’t…” I trail off, not sure what else to say.
“What they used to be?” He fills in the blanks. “Yeah, a rogue mating bond will do that to a couple.”
“It isn’t just the mating bond. We—”
“It’s the mating bond,” Hudson says, cutting me off. “Trying to pretend otherwise just makes us all look like children. You broke up because of me, which is what I’ve been trying to avoid.”
“Is that why you’ve made sure you’re never with me alone, at lunch or anywhere?”
He shrugs. “Yet here we are.”
“Jaxon and I broke up because everything feels off between us lately,” I contradict him. “Without the mating bond, nothing feels right. That’s not because of you. That’s because of Cole and the godawful spell from the Bloodletter.” I squeeze his hand. “Honestly.”
Hudson stares at me for a while but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he drops my hand and just kind of shakes his head before he starts gathering up his pens and notebook off the table.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “Are you seriously just going to walk away without saying anything? Again?”
“The library’s closing,” he tells me, even as he nods to someone over my shoulder. “Go pack up your stuff, and I’ll walk you to your room.”
“You don’t need to do that.” I back away from him, confusion and hurt churning in my belly. I thought being honest was the way to go—we just agreed it was the right thing to do—and now he’s treating me like gargoyle-itis is something he can catch if we have an actual conversation.
“I know I don’t need to, but I’m going to.” He steps out from behind the table for the first time since we started talking and begins shepherding me across the room toward my belongings.
“I’m perfectly capable of walking to my room on my own,” I try, more forcefully this time.
“Grace.” He sounds weary as he says my name, like everything about me, about this, is too much effort for him. It gets my back up, even before he continues. “Can we skip this fight if I acknowledge that I am aware that you are fully capable of doing anything you put your mind to? And I’m still going to walk you to your room.”
“Why should I let you do that when it’s obvious you don’t want anything to do with me?”
His sigh is somehow both exaggerated and impatient. “What I want, at this exact moment, is to finish our conversation in private while I walk you to your room.” His accent turns the words into sharp little arrows that hit with precision. “Is that obvious enough for you, or do I need to be more specific?”
I stop packing up my backpack to glare at him. He glares right back, mutters something under his breath that I can’t quite catch but which I totally know was all about how tiring it is to put up with me. And I get it. I know my emotions have been all over the place tonight, but I’m trying to get that under control. And even though they are a mess, that doesn’t mean he gets to talk to me like I’m a child. Unless he wants me to actually act like a child.
It’s a tempting thought. Wrong, probably, but still so tempting that I can’t resist.
I lean back on my heels, cross my arms over my chest, and turn to stone.
The cool thing about learning to control my gargoyle is that now I can turn to my statue form and still be sentient—which means I get to watch as Hudson’s eyes go big and his mouth literally drops open. And can I just say, turning Hudson speechless is worth every second of not being able to slap back at him while I’m encased in stone.
Especially when he remembers to close his mouth with a snap but makes sure to leave his fangs on full display this time. Although I’m not sure what he plans on doing with them, considering he’ll need some serious dental work if he tries to take a bite out of me now.
Amka, the librarian, approaches warily, as if she’s not sure she wants to get involved in whatever this is. Not that I blame her. Of course, this isn’t the first altercation between students with power that I’ve seen, and I’ve only been here a few months. I can’t imagine what she’s seen in her time here.
Hudson says something to her, but I have no idea what, as it sounds like it’s coming through at least fifteen feet of water—maybe more. She answers him, and whatever she says must not be what he wants to hear, because the anger on his face slowly morphs into something that looks an awful lot like fear.
It’s not a common emotion for him—the last time I remember seeing it was when his father bit me—so I can’t be entirely sure, but as he steps forward and starts talking urgently to me, I figure it might be time to change back. I wanted to teach him a lesson about being condescending, not actually worry him.