Beautiful Collide (Saints Of Redville #3)

Chapter 51

51

Hudson

It’s been a long two weeks, and my mind is a mess.

Tomorrow’s the championship game. The culmination of everything we’ve worked for all season.

The hotel room is quiet. The only sound is the hum of the air conditioner and the occasional muffled laugh from the hallway. I’m lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to will myself to sleep.

It’s not working.

I should feel confident.

I should feel ready.

But instead, my brain won’t stop running through every possible scenario—the good, the bad, and the downright catastrophic.

A soft knock on the door startles me out of my spiral.

I glance over, my pulse kicking up. Only one person would knock that way.

“Molly,” I say quietly, opening the door just enough to see her standing there.

She’s in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, her hair loose around her shoulders.

“Can I come in?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

I step aside, holding the door open. “You know this is probably against a hundred rules, right?”

She shrugs, slipping past me. “You’re not exactly a rule follower, Wilde.”

“Fair point,” I say, shutting the door behind her.

She walks into the room like she’s been here a hundred times before, her presence instantly grounding me.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asks, perching on the edge of the bed.

“Something like that,” I admit, sitting down beside her.

She studies me, her sharp green eyes missing nothing. “You’re nervous.”

“Am not,” I say automatically, leaning back on my hands.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she counters, crossing her arms.

I exhale heavily, running a hand through my hair. “Fine. Maybe I’m a little nervous.”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

“Okay, a lot nervous,” I amend, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees. “It’s the championship, Molly. Everything’s riding on tomorrow. What if I screw it up?”

“You won’t,” she says, her tone so steady it makes me believe her, if only for a moment.

“You don’t know that,” I mutter, shaking my head.

“I do,” she says firmly. “You’ve worked your ass off for this, Hudson. You’re not going to screw it up.”

Her confidence in me is almost overwhelming. I glance at her, the knot in my chest loosening just a fraction. “What if I don’t know how to turn my brain off?”

She tilts her head. “What can I do to help?”

I can’t help the grin that tugs at my lips. “I can think of a few ways,” I say, my voice dipping into something lower, something teasing.

She rolls her eyes, but the faint blush on her cheeks gives her away. “I’m being serious, Hudson.”

“So am I,” I reply, leaning closer.

She gives me a look, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she shifts, her legs brushing against mine. “You want me to distract you?”

“Wouldn’t hurt,” I say, smirking.

She narrows her eyes at me, then slowly, deliberately, she straddles my lap.

My breath catches as her hands rest on my shoulders, her touch warm and familiar.

“Like this?” she asks, her voice soft but with an edge of mischief.

“Perfect,” I murmur, my hands settling on her waist.

She leans in, her lips brushing against mine in a kiss that starts slow and sweet but quickly deepens. Her fingers thread through my hair, and for the first time all night, my mind goes blissfully quiet.

She pulls back slightly, her forehead resting against mine. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” I whisper, my grip tightening on her waist.

She smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that makes me think, just for a second, that maybe everything really will be okay.

For the rest of the night, I don’t think about the game, the pressure, or the noise waiting for me tomorrow.

There’s only her.

And it’s enough.

More than enough.