Page 9 of Too Broken to Love

Stumbling on the sand and marsh grass, he ran down the slope toward Nathaniel waving from the rear of the car. Sweat mixed with tears and dripped into Hudson’s eyes. He squinted against the sting as his foot plunged into a hole.

Nathaniel caught him by the shoulders. “I was driving home from D.C. and saw Sam’s car in front of me at the stoplight on Bay and Third. Then the light turned green and he took off and swerved all over the place until he…”

Hudson twisted from Nathaniel’s grip. Broken glass crunched under his sneakers. He lunged for the driver’s side door. Pop’s silver hair came into view as Hudson fell to his knees beside the vehicle. Gripping the edge of the shattered window, he reached in and pressed his fingers to Pop’s neck. “It’s Hudson. Can you hear me?”

No pulse.

No response.

And no deployed airbag.

He pressed harder into the blood-covered flesh and prayed for a beat to quicken beneath his fingertips.

“Wake up, old man. I got you.” Tears blurred his vision as he rose and yanked on the door handle. “Open, Goddammit.” It didn’t budge. He looked back at Nathaniel. “Try the passenger door.”

Nathaniel’s suit jacket strained against his shoulders as he mimicked a tugging motion. “I tried. It’s jammed too.”

“Try again.” Hudson’s ribs roared in agony as he wrenched at the door another time to no avail. A scream tore from behind him. He spun.

“I’m too late.” Tessa let out a strangled sob. “Please, tell me he’s not dead.”

No. Pop’s not dead. He can’t be.

Hudson caught a flash of sandy-colored hair on the passenger side of the car. “Get that damn door open.”

Malcolm grunted. “Working on it.”

Sirens blared from the top of the embankment. Blood dripped from Pop’s nose. More trailed from lacerations on his cheek that appeared more ashen than it had been seconds ago.

Nathaniel latched onto the back of his shoulders. “It’s too late. He’s gone.”

“No.” Hudson threw back an elbow. Glass pierced his shirt as he thrust his upper body through the window. He held his breath, tensing so hard he barely felt his own heartbeat, and waited for a moan, a breath, any indication he wouldn’t be attending another funeral this week.

“Come on, old man.”

A groan trembled from Pop’s lungs. Relief filled Hudson’s chest so fast he almost puked. Pop’s lashes fluttered. For a heartbeat, Hudson stared into eyes the color of his own, but brighter.

Pop blinked. “Son-of-a-sea-bass. You’re here boy.”

The thick, bloody rattle smothered Hudson’s relief with bone-deep fear. “You’re going to be fine. Don’t move.” He angled Pop’s head to the side, bracing his neck with both hands. “You’ve been in a car crash. Concentrate on taking slow breaths and stay with me.”

Pop latched onto Hudson’s wrist with surprising strength.

“I can’t, Hudson.”

“No.” Hudson shook his head and stared into the eyes of the man who’d taught him how to be a man. “Don’t give up. I need you. We’ll get you out of here.”

A shuddering wheeze shook Pop’s body. The violent burst sucked the air from them both as the cough settled. The eerie precursor to the inevitable, which Hudson had witnessed far too often on the battlefield, blanketed the car. “Listen to me, old man. You’re not allowed to die.”

Another trickle of blood slid from Pop’s mouth as he patted the back of Hudson’s hand. “Did you meet Tessa?”

“Yes. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

“You’ll figure it out, boy. Just⁠—”

Pop’s head slumped forward. His limp hand slid from Hudson’s and onto his thigh.

“No.” Hudson’s whisper broke the dam he’d been holding back. Tears streamed down his cheeks on a sob to rival Tessa’s as he buried his face in Pop’s neck and inhaled cigars and the sea.