This One is For You

Chapter Sixteen

Josie

I went to my morning classes today, but ditched out on the afternoon ones so I can go be with Hudson. I also called Deanna for him, as he requested, and we've pushed our next recording session to next week.

Now, I'm on the way to see him and his sister with pizzas in my front seat.

My heart aches for them. I can only imagine how hard Rylie is taking it. I don't think I could be as strong as her. Watching your parent overdose in front of you? That's some dark stuff.

From what Hudson has told me, and from my own conclusions, I can tell them and their mother weren't close. She's had a drug addiction most of their lives.

Still, I can't imagine losing both of my parents before the age of sixteen like Rylie.

I silently say a prayer of protection over my parents. As much as they can get under my skin, I love them. I don't want anything bad to happen to them.

Then, the guilt ebbs in that I haven't had a real conversation with my mom in weeks. I sigh, getting Siri to call her for me.

"It's about time, Josaleigh."

"Sorry, mom. I've been so busy."

"Oh, I know." I can hear her snideness even over the Bluetooth speakers of my car. "Trey filled me in on everything."

Everything? What about the part where he assaulted me?  But I bite my tongue.

"That's a long story that neither of us have time for, I'm sure."

"You can explain at lunch on Sunday, then. No exceptions. We haven't seen you in weeks. Be there at twelve."

"Okay, mom."

"And, Josaleigh? Whatever is going on with you, get a handle on it. You can't throw Trey away. You two are the perfect match. I do expect you to work things out."

I grimace. Hudson and the singing thing might've pushed me in the right direction with Trey, but the farther away I get from the situation, the more I see how bad it was.

We aren't supposed to be together. He wasn't good for me.

"I have to go, mom. Bye."

I let out a groan of frustration when I end the call. Sometimes I have to be reminded why I avoid calling in the first place.

I quickly take the thought back. My mom might be annoying, but she's alive.

I pull up to the sketchy apartment building, and will myself to not look afraid while walking past all the people—men—who linger outside.

When I start walking, I kind of wish I'd have called Hudson and let him come down to walk in with me.

"Damn, mama. A pizza for me?"

I ignore the man, walking past as if I didn't hear him.

"You don't belong here dressed like that, cupcake."

I almost gag at the nickname, and resist the urge to look down at my attire. It's nothing special. Dark jeans, boots and a long-sleeved cream-colored top.

My fist connects with the door, and I almost feel disrespectful, like loud noise will make their grief worse or something.

"Hey." Hudson answers, and I have to hold back from sucking in a sharp breath. His eyes have bags under them, and are bloodshot. His hair is greasy, and stubble coats his jawline. He looks like he hasn't slept or showered. I guess he probably hasn't. "Come in."