The Hudson Boys

C H A P T E R 2 4

C H A P T E R 2 4

We drive in silence until we reach the town centre, where upon Tate turns down one of the side streets and pulls into the car park if a small diner off the main street. The exterior is old brick with patches of old ivy plants creeping up the walls to in twine with the gutter. A soft glow comes through the windows as the lights illuminate the café inside. It looks inviting, and warm and my stomach grumbles once again at the thought of what we might find inside.

"What is this place?" I ask curiously, looking up at a large neon sign which reads, Donna's Diner.

"It's a bit of a town secret." He explains as he holds the front door open for me, the bell jingling as I pass under the archway and into the warmth of the café. "Only the locals really know about it but it's been here for years."

"So, you've been here a few times?" I ask as we take seats opposite each other in a small round booth at the back of the room. I'm curious to hear more about Tate, I have noticed that he doesn't seem to open up to anyone, including his brothers regardless of how close they are. If us becoming closer would end this strange anger he seems to have towards me then I'm certainly open to it, and the first step to that is getting to know each other better.

Looking around the room I see many people bustling about; waitresses in light pink, spotted aprons, the chef behind the counter, dashing back and forth across the kitchen as he prepares customers' orders, and the customers themselves, squashed into tiny eggshell-blue booths, chatting animatedly over steaming coffee and baked goods. It all feels very traditional, like an old-time diner minus the roller skates. It is the sort of place that feels homely and inviting, the sort of place I could certainly get used to. Turning back to face the boy in front of me I listen closely as he answers, drinking in any information he is willing to share.

"They make the most amazing blueberry muffins." He smiles widely, an animated expression crossing his face, his blue eyes bright with life. It is a stark contrast to his usual grey attitude "I used to come here all the time when I was younger, we would come almost every day on the way home from school and Cam..." He cuts himself off halfway through his sentence. The once gleeful expression leaves his face and not a trace remains behind as his eyes drop to the table top and he distractedly knots his fingers together.

"Tate? Are you okay?" I ask softly, thrown by his sudden change in attitude. He looks up quickly, his blue eyes losing their glassiness as if he is slowly coming back to reality.

"Hmm, yeah." He mumbles distractedly as he abruptly stands up, his words tumbling out in a jumbled rush. "I'll be back, I've just got to take care of something."

He turns quickly and leaves the diner through the front door, leaving me sitting alone. Once again this boy has thrown me into a state of confusion and left me wondering how.

------

The waitress arrives at our table before Tate returns and I order one of the "famous" blueberry muffins that he spoke so highly of before his sudden departure. I have to hand it to him, they certainly live up to my expectations. The muffin is soft and the berries were sweet rather than sour, as if they had been picked as soon as they ripened.

I also order an iced coffee with extra whipped cream. I have always had a strange temptation towards the frothy substance. My mother used to make me hot chocolate with mountains of whipped cream every Monday morning. It had become a sort of tradition and was the only reason I would get up for school at the beginning of each week. As I drink it I think of her, her memory held in the rich, creamy flavor.

Tate doesn't come back for over an hour and by the time he does return I have begun contemplating how to find another ride home.

"Where have you been?" I demand sternly as soon as he returns to the booth. I am using every ounce of self-control not to blow up at him and I seriously hope that he has a decent explanation

"I told you. I had something to take care of." He rings his fingers together and bites the inside of his lip.

"You left me here for over an hour," I repeat coldly and feel like I have every right to be rude to him. He ditched me, in a town that I don't know, with no way to get home. Why can't he understand how wrong that is?

"Well, we're going home now anyway." He says shortly, standing up and waiting a moment to see that I follow before he walks out the door ahead of me and trudges across the car park.

I am a bit stunned but considering he is my only ride home I decide it's best to follow quickly before he changes his mind and leaves me here for good.

"Where were you?" I ask again as I slide into the passenger's seat and clip my seat belt into place. I feel as though he owes me at least some sort of explanation.

"I just-, I had something I forgot I had to do." He explains briefly the clipped tone of his voice warning me to drop the subject. As frustrated as I am after the sudden turn of events, especially considering the progress I thought we were making towards getting along, I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Okay, fine, whatever," I say bluntly, turning to face the window as the weatherworn townhouses turn into rolling fields.

I can imagine him rolling his eyes but he doesn't reply. It takes us another twenty minutes before we arrive back at the Hudson's house. Tate pulls into the garage quickly and gets out of the car, locking to door when he knows that I am also out of the vehicle. I hurry inside after him, shutting the garage door behind us. Marcia is standing in the kitchen when we arrive, an amused look crossing her face when she sees the two of us together.

"Where have you two been?" She asks with a half smile however this drops quickly when she sees Tate's downturned face. "What happened?" Her voice is cautious and small as if she is unsure what his reaction may be.

"Nothing," Tate grumbles as he trudges up the stairs, his hands fisted into the hem of his sweatshirt. "Still nothing." The way he says it implies a double meaning to his words. Marcia looks at me with wide eyes and I shake my head, hoping that will tell her that I know even less than she probably does.

"I'll go talk to him." She says softly, giving me a pale smile. "Dinner is almost ready so don't go too far."

I nod agreeably and she leaves the room, following her moody son up the stairs. Once she is out of sight I collapse into one of the large armchairs in the main living area. My copy of The Mortal Instruments hangs over the arm of the chair and without the energy to do much else I settle in to read it until dinner is ready.

A/N.

I'm not going to say much other than thank you so much for the increase in the reads on this book. You guys are phenomenal and as of March 11th, we are almost at the 3K mark.

Thank you for all the support you have given just you reading my story and adding it to your reading lists.

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