Page 12 of Commit

“I’m Starling,” I gasp, wondering if I should start screaming.

“I know. People call me Pete.”

Pete? I rack my brain, but I don’t know anyone by that name.

“But you can call me Hudson.”

I whip my head up to look at him, feeling my cheeks flush with another bout of embarrassment. “You’re Abbot’s dad?”

He nods, his eyes moving over my face. I stay still, feeling like prey caught in a trap.

There’s something captivating about the man. I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting that. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing about this man that isn’t terrifying, and I wish Abbot had warned me. In my head, I had placed him into the deadbeat dad category. But that, I fear, is only the tip of the iceberg.

“So you’re the stepsister?”

I swallow and nod, wondering if I’m strong enough to crawl out of his lap so I can find a hole somewhere to fall into.

“Landon told you that you’ll be staying with me?”

Again, I nod, biting my lip so I don’t blurt out something stupid.

“You’re a quiet one, aren’t you? Yeah, I think Birdie will work just fine.”

He chuckles when I still don’t say anything, the sound warm and rich and oddly comforting.

“You okay now? I’m sure Abbot’s looking for you.”

I get to my knees and crawl away, ignoring the hiss from behind me as I scramble to my feet. By the time I’m ready to face him, he’s already standing. This time, his eyes move over my whole body, taking me in inch by inch. This gaze feels like a touch, as if I can feel it skating over my skin, making my blood throb in my veins.

Forget warning bells. This man is a walking, talking public safety announcement.

Warning. Danger ahead. Turn back.

If only life were that simple.

“Landon said it’s your birthday soon. You’ll be eighteen?”

I walk back toward where I left Abbot, Hudson following beside me. He’s not touching me, but he’s far closer than I like.

“Yes. On the twenty-seventh.”

“That’s good,” he mumbles. He might be waiting for me to turn eighteen so he can kick me out without feeling bad because the CPS won’t care what happens to me then. He doesn’t need to worry. I have a plan. But that doesn’t mean that getting tossed out on my ass doesn’t scare the hell out of me.

“I’ll get a job and pay you rent. I’ll help out around the house and do the cooking. Anything you want as a thank you for letting me stay,” I rush to say. My worry about being kicked out erases my fear of overstepping.

“Anything?” he says, his fingertips brushing against my arm. “Be careful, Birdie. I might just take you up on that.” He smirks before walking ahead.

This time, I’m the one who reaches up to check my pulse. I must be dead, right? Because none of what just happened could be real.

But if I’m dead, it begs the question: does finding myself in Hudson’s sights mean I made it to heaven? Or am I in hell?

Chapter Four

Hudson

The service was simple. The attendees were all people who had superficial relationships with Eloise, whom the boys had invited. The kind of people who never really bothered with you in life, probably even talked about you behind your back. But in death, they had the audacity to stand there and cry their fake tears and act like she was the second coming.

I didn’t give a fuck about any of them. I watched my boys, feeling like a spectator to their grief and having no words to console them that wouldn’t sound cliché or ignite their anger. They stood tall, their faces forward, ignoring the dramatic sobs and whispered comments, instead focusing on the priest’s words about love and loss.