Chapter 49
CHAPTER
FORTY-NINE
Natalie knew she shouldn’t do this.
But she did it anyway.
After her father had told her the news about her security detail, she’d been shaken. And all she could think about was seeing Hudson—though her logic made no sense.
Despite that, she went to his room.
Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking as she stood outside his door.
Using her free hand, she knocked.
Her other hand gripped a first-aid kit. Gauze. Antiseptic. Ice pack. Band-aids decorated with cartoon cats because she’d bought them on sale and thought they were funny. She’d left them in her bathroom here at her father’s house.
But nothing about tonight was funny.
Hudson opened the door, his eyes widening when he saw her.
“Don’t pretend like you’re not in pain,” she murmured as she breezed past him. “I saw you wince, and I know you’re going to ignore your wounds. I’d hate for them to become infected.”
“Would you?”
“Then you wouldn’t be any good to anyone.” She winced as she said the words. They were meant to sound lighthearted. Instead, they sounded entirely too serious.
She set the kit down and opened it up, pulling out the ice pack first.
“You don’t have to do this.” Hudson’s voice came from behind her, rough-edged and careful. He was leaning against the doorframe, one arm wrapped around his ribs, his white shirt torn and spotted with blood. Not all of it his.
“Sit down.” She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t yet.
“Natalie—”
“I said sit down.” Her voice cracked.
He moved slowly, like sudden motion might spook her, and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. Something about the way he looked while sitting there took her mind back in time.
Back to two weeks ago when Hudson had sat on the edge of her couch, laughing at her story about the disastrous office potluck—the one where she’d tried to reheat her casserole in the break room microwave and somehow set off every fire alarm in the building, evacuating three floors during a client presentation.
Back when she’d thought she knew who he was.
She prayed coming here right now wasn’t a mistake.
Natalie was the last person Hudson had expected to see.
But he was glad she was here—no matter how painful it might be. And he was thankful he’d already checked out the place for any listening devices.
It was clear.
He watched as she picked up the ice pack and turned around.
She examined him with a frown.
He knew the bedroom light was unforgiving. He’d seen himself earlier. His left eye was swelling, the bruise already darkening to purple. His bottom lip was split, a thin line of dried blood trailing to his chin. His knuckles were raw and torn, and his ribs were worse than he was letting on.
She stopped in front of him, the ice pack cold against her palm. “Lift your shirt.”
Hudson’s jaw tightened. “It’s not that bad.”
“Hudson.” A tremor caught her voice. “Please.”
Something in her tone made him comply.
He peeled the shirt up slowly, wincing, revealing a torso mapped with forming bruises. Dark blooms spread across his ribs on the left side. The muscles of his abdomen were taut with pain he tried to hide.
Natalie pressed the ice pack gently against the worst of the bruising.
He hissed through his teeth.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t be.” He caught her wrist—not to move her hand away, just to touch her. His thumb brushed against her pulse point. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “Neither do you, right? You were just doing your job.”
Hudson’s hand dropped. He deserved that.
The silence stretched between them, filled with everything they hadn’t said.
Natalie reached for the antiseptic and a clean cloth. It was almost like she needed something to do with her hands. Something that wasn’t hitting him or holding him or both.
“Look up,” she said quietly.
He tilted his face toward her, and she began cleaning the cut on his lip. This close, he could see everything—the exhaustion in her eyes, the tension in her jaw, the way she watched him like she was trying to memorize his face.
She carefully dabbed at the split skin. “Tell me something about yourself. Something real. Do you really even like hockey?”
“I love hockey.”
“Tell me more.” She continued to treat him. “Have you ever been in love?”
He swallowed hard as he tried to figure out how to answer that question.