my side, he stopped me, not letting go of my hand. “Thank you. For tonight. For being there.”
“You’re welcome, Hudson.” After tonight, I didn’t think I wanted to be anywhere else. I certainly didn’t want to be alone, either. But I knew what he meant. He was thankful I was willing to be with him. I doubted he’d even care if he knew I was agreeing so I didn’t have to sleep by myself.
Mostly.
Well, partly. I wanted to be there for him. I also knew the risk. Spending a night with Hudson again would open up my heart to him, and I still wasn’t certain I was ready to hand it to him again.
With a heavy sigh, he climbed out of the truck and I met him at the back where we walked close to each other, but not touching, all the way into the elevator and then into his loft on the top floor.
Darkness shrouded us as the door clicked shut. He’d pulled his curtains, blocking his view of the state’s capitol building and streetlights. A light flicked on and the pendulum lights over the kitchen island blinked to life.
I dropped my purse on the kitchen table.
Hudson scrubbed his hands through his hair and then shoved them down his face. “I didn’t think to ask if you needed to stop at your place first.”
“I’m fine.”
I scanned his apartment, unsure of what to do next. He wanted me with him, but did he need to talk? My hands twisted together in front of me and I stepped toward the coffee table where a week ago, I’d felt like he’d done the largest betrayal.
But now, it was muted behind the truth of David’s explanation and his upcoming fight.
Still, the same pain lashed through my veins as I remembered the last time I stood in this spot. The coffee stain gone, but the memory so vivid, it rushed back to me like it was that morning all over again.
“You’re still pissed,” he said, coming to where I stood and reading my mind probably easier than he knew his own.
“More still hurt, but yeah.”
But I didn’t hate him. Couldn’t. He’d somehow managed to stitch himself into what felt like the very fibers of my being.
“I know.” He shoved his hands to his hips and let them fall. “And I understand why, but for tonight, will you let me hold you? I know I don’t have the right to ask. But tonight…”
His voice trailed off. He looked like a dead man walking. Had the look of a man ravaged by loss and fear.
Despite my own war in my chest, I settled my hand on his chest, where his heart thumped wildly.
“Tonight,” I said. He bent his head down and the strong line of his shoulders fell. “I’m here for you, Hudson. Through all of this. Your dad is strong and his prognosis good.”
“Good.” His lips twisted into a sneer. “There is no good when it comes to cancer.”
“I know. But thinking positive will help him.”
A muscle along the side of his nose twitched. He opened his mouth like he was ready to argue but then clamped it shut. “Come with me.”
He lifted his hand, palm up. My hand at his chest fell to his and he walked us toward his bedroom.
Right to where a week ago, I’d given my body to him. I’d given my heart to him so much earlier than that. Memories of our night together danced in my memory banks, the sounds of our bodies joining, the feel of him pressing into me that first, glorious time while he held me so tenderly. Like I was breakable. That night had been perfect. Only to have the illusion shattered in the morning.
I froze at the edge of his bed, covers thrown up and made, but messily, like he usually did it. A half-hearted attempt at best.
So far vastly different from the cleanliness required of me at home, and then the preciseness required in prison.
But there was comfort in a gentle mess. The freedom to live how you wanted. Something I was still trying to find, despite my fighting for it.
Such a simple, silly thing that messy beds made me think of. I shook my head and turned to Hudson. He was watching me, eyes glazed.
“Would you like to use the restroom first?” I asked.
“No. You can.” He slid around me to his dresser, went to the third drawer down and pulled out a University of Iowa T-shirt. Gray and faded, it was