Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Naomi
The small diner at the edge of town felt like a terrible place for a confrontation. Its peeling wallpaper, flickering neon sign outside, and slightly sticky tables screamed indifference, as if nothing truly important ever happened here. That might have been why I chose it. Or maybe I thought I’d blend in, that no one would notice me walking in with my heart pounding and my nerves stretched so tight they might snap.
I hadn’t told Hudson where I was going. Honestly, I didn’t even know I was coming here until I was already halfway through town, my phone clenched in one hand, his contact staring back at me from the screen. Something stopped me from calling him. Maybe it was pride, or maybe it was the thought that he’d try to stop me if he knew. Either way, I was here, alone, waiting for a man who represented everything I’d tried to leave behind.
The bell over the door jingled, and I straightened in my seat, trying to look more confident than I felt. When I saw him, I froze. He hadn’t changed much—same sharp features, same cocky swagger. Time hadn’t softened him. If anything, it had made him harder, sharper, like he was trying to prove something.
“Naomi,” he said, sliding into the seat across from me with a smirk. “Long time.”
“Not long enough,” I replied, forcing my voice to stay steady.
The smirk faltered, and he leaned back, eyeing me. “You’ve got some nerve calling me.”
“Guess I do,” I said. “But I need answers.”
He raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from amused to annoyed. “Answers? About what?”
“About why I’ve been looking over my shoulder since I came back to Cedar Hill,” I said, leaning forward. “About why someone’s been following me, trying to scare me. And about whether or not you had anything to do with it.”
His eyes narrowed, and he scoffed. “You think I’ve got time to waste on you? Don’t flatter yourself, Naomi.”
“Don’t play games with me,” I shot back, my voice rising despite myself. “I know you. You don’t let things go. So tell me—are you behind this or not?”
For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze locked on mine like he was trying to decide whether or not I was worth the effort. Then he leaned forward, his voice low and sharp. “You always did have an overactive imagination.”
The words stung, but I refused to let him see it. Instead, I held his gaze, waiting, willing him to say something—anything—that would explain why my life had turned into a nightmare.
“Look,” he said finally, sitting back with a sigh. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but whatever it is, it’s got nothing to do with me.”
“Then who?” I asked, my voice trembling despite myself. “Who’s doing this?”
He shrugged, his expression annoyingly casual. “Not my problem.”
Before I could respond, a shadow fell across the table, and I looked up to see Hudson standing there, his face a mask of barely contained fury. My stomach dropped.
“Who’s this?” my ex asked, his smirk returning as he glanced up at Hudson. “Your new boyfriend?”
“Get up,” Hudson said, his voice cold as steel.
My ex raised an eyebrow but didn’t move. “Relax, man. We’re just talking.”
Hudson’s eyes didn’t leave him. “I said, get up.”
Something in Hudson’s tone must have registered because my ex slowly pushed himself to his feet, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No need to get worked up.”
Hudson stepped closer, his body tense. “If I see you near her again, we’re going to have a problem. Do you understand me?”
“Crystal clear,” my ex replied, his smirk faltering as he backed toward the door. He paused, glancing at me one last time. “Good luck, Naomi. Sounds like you’ll need it.”
The door jingled behind him, and I let out a shaky breath, my hands gripping the edge of the table. I didn’t realize how tightly I was holding on until Hudson’s voice pulled me back.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
I flinched, looking up to see him staring at me, his jaw tight, his eyes blazing with anger and something else—something that almost looked like fear.
“I needed answers,” I said weakly, my voice barely above a whisper.
“And you thought walking into a situation like this alone was the best way to get them?” he snapped. “Do you have any idea how reckless that was?”
“I can take care of myself?—”
“Clearly,” he said, cutting me off. “Because that went so well.”
His words stung, and I looked away, my cheeks burning with embarrassment and frustration. “I didn’t ask you to come.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t?” he shot back. “Did you think I wouldn’t figure out where you were and follow you, just in case you needed me to save your ass?”
“I didn’t need saving,” I said, my voice trembling with emotion. “I’m not some damsel in distress.”
“No, you’re not,” he said, his tone softening just enough to make my chest ache. “But you’re not invincible either, Naomi. And this? Whatever’s happening? You can’t handle it alone.”
“I’m not your responsibility,” I said, standing abruptly. “I’m not someone you have to protect just because you feel sorry for me.”
He took a step closer, his voice low and sharp. “This isn’t about responsibility. It’s about keeping you alive.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the intensity in his gaze stopped me. For a moment, the anger between us hung heavy in the air, neither of us willing to back down. Finally, he let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair.
“I don’t know if you’re trying to prove a point or get yourself hurt,” he said, his voice still sharp but quieter now. “But either way, you’re done doing it alone.”