9. Sofia
CHAPTER 9
Sofia
The bar was packed tonight, the kind of night where I barely had a moment to breathe between orders. As I moved through the rush, handing out drinks and greeting familiar faces, my mind wandered to the conversation Hudson and I had the night before. Telling him about Dane had been… surprisingly easy. Easier than it should’ve been. I hadn’t planned on opening up, but Hudson had this way of listening that made it feel safe, like I wouldn’t regret it later.
And I didn’t. Not yet, anyway.
A burst of laughter rang out from the corner booth where a group of regulars sat, their Santa hats slightly askew. People-watching was one of my favorite parts about being a bartender.
Which was probably why I couldn’t stop stealing glances at Hudson. He was perched at the bar, his elbows resting on the counter, his hands loosely clasped. He’d been there for a while now, and despite the chaos swirling around us, he seemed more relaxed than anyone else in the room.
Or maybe that was just the effect he had on me—calm in the chaos.
Sliding a glass of wine to a tourist with a practiced motion, I grabbed the towel tucked into my waistband and wiped my hands. The worn fabric was a lifeline on nights like this. Not because I enjoyed the feel of scratchy, heavily bleached towels… but more because fidgeting with it was a small ritual that grounded me when my thoughts were a blur.
I moved back toward Hudson, who was watching me with a small, knowing smile that made my heart skip a beat.
“Anyway, what was it like?” I asked, stopping in front of him and leaning against the bar to resume our earlier conversation. “Serving overseas, I mean. I’ve never been out of the country.”
He tilted his head, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the question. “Some parts were rough. Some were… really cool. I had a good time in Italy when we stopped there once on the way back from a deployment.”
“Tell me something. Story time.” I straightened, folding the towel and tossing it onto the counter before leaning in slightly.
“What kind of story?”
I tapped my chin. “Hmm… something funny.”
His lips quirked. It was a dangerous, heart-stopping smirk that seemed to undo me a little. “Okay… I fell off my bike at Kunsan Air Force Base in Korea. Totally wiped out in front of all of my friends.”
I raised an eyebrow, already intrigued. “What were Marines doing on an Air Force base?”
“There was this big multinational exercise going on.”
“And… we’re talking about South Korea, right?”
He blinked, a touch of humor behind his blank look. “Yes.”
“Got it,” I said with a laugh, shaking my head at myself.
I pulled a pint glass from beneath the bar and began filling it for one of the waitstaff who’d just held up a ticket. Multitasking was second nature on nights like this, but it wasn’t hard to keep most of my attention on Hudson. In fact, it was hard not to.
“The base is about 50 miles outside Seoul,” he continued, leaning forward slightly and resting his arms on the counter. “There’s this place on base called Wolf Pack Park. It’s at the top of this big hill, right in the middle of the base. At night, they lock the gates around the base, so if you’re on night crew, you’re stuck.”
I slid the pint onto the tray as one of the waitstaff whisked it away. “Locked in? Like, no way out?”
“Pretty much. The guys on day crew got to stay out in town at a nice hotel. Balconies and everything. But, us night crew guys?” He shuddered dramatically, the gesture so exaggerated it made me grin. “Not so lucky.”
“How bad was it?” I asked, crossing my arms as I leaned against the bar.
Before he could answer, Derrick strolled in, his jacket dusted with snow. He gave me a warm smile as he approached the bar. “Hey, Sofia. Can I get another Snow Hill Sleigh Ride?”
“Coming right up,” I said, flashing him a quick smile. I pulled out the ingredients and started mixing the cocktail while keeping an ear on Hudson.
He leaned back slightly, his expression turning mock-serious as he answered my question. “Well, let’s see… The squad bays—these long metal buildings with rows of beds—looked like something out of a horror movie. Dirty mattresses with no sheets, spiders everywhere, bugs crawling out of the walls… Oh, and the portapotties outside? That was the bathroom situation.”
As I handed Derrick his drink with a quick, “Enjoy!” before I glanced briefly at the door. It was an old habit that had resurfaced since running into Dane yesterday—this subtle hyper-awareness of my surroundings. I hated that I felt like this. Hated even more that Dane’s presence in Snow Hill had dug up old instincts I thought I’d buried back in Philly.
I tried to shove it down again, turning back to Hudson, my nose wrinkling at the thought of everything he’d just described. “You didn’t have running water in the squad bay?” I asked, my voice tinged with disbelief.
He shook his head solemnly. “We kinda did… But the water was brown, and it smelled like rust.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish. The laundry machines were all broken, too. It was like living in a haunted campground.”
“Did you ever see anything that made it feel haunted?” I asked, intrigued.
“Not me, personally. But there were grave markers all over the place on the hill, and a lot of people said it was haunted. And there were these deep gashes in the metal on the outside of the squad bays.”
“From what?” I asked, eyes wide.
“Don’t know. Looked like a werewolf had tried to claw its way in.”
“You’re lying.”
He held up his hands. “I’m not. I swear.”
“Okay, now I’m picturing you guys up there, surrounded by werewolf scratches, just hoping to make it through the night.”
He shook his head, taking a sip of the whiskey he’d been nursing for over thirty minutes. “Night crew, remember? The only bright spot was that we were on the flight line on the other side of the base when it was dark outside. It wasn’t all bad. We tried to make it fun.”
“Which, I’m assuming, is what led to you falling off your bike?”
He laughed, the deep, warm sound washing over me like a balm. “Yeah, we rented bikes to get back and forth to work. One day, the other guys started jumping their bikes off dirt hills on the way back from the flight line. I’d never ridden a bike on any terrain other than Snow Hill’s streets when I was a kid… But I thought, ‘How hard can it be?’”
“Oh, no. Famous last words.”
He pursed his lips as he nodded solemnly. “I flipped right over the handlebars. Hit the ground so hard I thought I’d cracked a rib.”
I winced at the image, feeling the impact almost as if I’d been there. “Um… is now a good time to thank you for your service?”
“Nah.” He held my gaze, his lips quirking slightly. “My time at Wolf Pack Park doesn’t even make the top ten worst things I’ve dealt with as a Marine.”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the bar as if getting closer would help me grasp how he could be so nonchalant about such a miserable experience. “Seriously?”
“Yep. Not even close.” He shrugged, his easy demeanor making it clear he wasn’t exaggerating. “And I’ve heard recruiting duty’s supposed to be one of the worst duties you can get.”
“Worse than haunted squad bays with brown water?”
He shrugged. “Mentally, yeah. But I’m not planning on riding a bike to work, so at least I’ll be safe on that front.”
I snorted at that, the image of Hudson on a rusty old bike somehow absurd and endearing all at once. The thought lingered as I turned away to grab another round for a couple down the bar. And then, I couldn’t help but wonder why he’d chosen to hang out here tonight. Alone. Snow Hill wasn’t exactly teeming with nightlife, but did he really want to spend his night at the bar by himself when he could’ve been… I didn’t know. Doing something else?
What if he was being subtly protective, keeping an eye on me after what happened with Dane and what I’d told him last night? The thought sent a mix of excitement and unease through me. I didn’t want anyone—especially Hudson—to feel like they had to babysit me.
But at the same time… it was kind of nice not to feel alone in all of this.
The regulars were getting louder, their Santa hats now either inside out or on the floor. I served some drinks, exchanging quick laughs and holiday banter before making my way back to Hudson.
As I approached, I couldn’t help but notice the way he wasn’t just another guy sitting at the bar—he owned his space, like the bar was there for him to enjoy, and the rest of the guests were just lucky enough to share it with him.
When I returned to my spot in front of him, he was spinning the glass of water in front of him lazily, his hazel eyes tracking me like I might disappear if he looked away. “Busy night,” he said, his tone teasing but not unkind.
I sighed, running a hand over my hair, which had been threatening to escape its ponytail all night. “You have no idea. But at least no one’s fallen and cracked a rib. Yet.”
His smirk deepened, and my chest tightened at how unfairly attractive he was. “The night’s still young.”
“Don’t jinx it,” I warned, shaking my head. “I already feel like I’m running on borrowed luck.”
The door opened as more customers trickled in, their chatter adding to the din of the bar. I glanced at the clock—barely past nine. It was going to be a long night, but with Hudson sitting there, it didn’t feel quite so daunting.
“So,” I said, wiping down a section of the bar next to him, “if recruiting is as bad as they say, why are you doing it?”
“She says like I had a choice,” he quipped. When I narrowed my eyes at him, his expression softened. “It’s one of those things where you can either take the orders and put in the time or choose to get out. I don’t wanna get out, so here I am. It does mean three whole years without a deployment—which is huge.”
“At least you’re close to home.”
“That was pure luck.” He took another sip of whiskey, eyeing me over the rim of the glass. “I’m not bad about it. It’s nice to be near Ida. Get to hang out with my old friends. Meet new ones.”
Like maybe… me? He didn’t say it, but I felt it in the way his gaze lingered, steady and unflinching.
For a moment, I couldn’t think of anything to say. The bar seemed to fade around us, the noise dimming as if the universe had hit pause on everything else. My throat tightened, and I forced myself to break eye contact, focusing on rearranging the neatly stacked cocktail napkins in front of me.
I reached for the ticket that a server had just slipped onto the counter, glancing at it quickly before punching in the order. When I turned back to him, he was still watching me, his smirk back in place but his eyes softer than before.
“Are you always this charming, or is it just a special effort tonight?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Depends,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “Is it working?”
It was working far too well, but I wasn’t about to admit that. Instead, I rolled my eyes and grabbed an empty glass from the bar, giving myself an excuse to step away for a moment. My pulse thrummed in my ears as I rinsed it out, trying to focus on the task instead of the fact that Hudson Green was somehow undoing me with nothing more than his dry humor and quietly sensual smile.
It was pretty strange how natural this felt. Him sitting there, me leaning against the bar, trading stories while I worked like we weren’t in the middle of a packed room. After the last twenty-four hours, it was a welcome feeling I hadn’t realized I’d been craving until it was right in front of me.
But those good vibes didn’t last long before Dane’s name flitted through my mind like a dark cloud. What if he came in? What if he saw Hudson here, talking to me, and made another scene?
I forced myself to breathe, gripping the edge of the counter for a moment before straightening. I couldn’t let Dane live rent-free in my head, not tonight. Not when Hudson was sitting here, making me laugh, making me forget—even if only for a little while.