Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hudson
The early morning sun streamed through the windows, casting golden streaks across the floor. Naomi was still asleep, curled up on the couch with the blanket draped over her. The tension that had etched itself into her face for weeks was finally gone, replaced by a peaceful expression that made my chest ache.
I stood in the kitchen, sipping my coffee and letting the quiet moments settle around me. Last night had been a victory—not just in what we’d accomplished but in the way it had brought us closer. But even in the warmth of that success, a nagging thought lingered: I’d pushed her too far before. The argument at the apartment, the times I’d tried to shut her out, the way I’d let my fear take over—I’d nearly lost her, and I couldn’t let it happen again.
She trusted me. That much was clear. But trust was fragile, and if I wanted to keep it, I had to do better. I had to be better.
I glanced over at her again, watching the soft rise and fall of her breathing. She deserved more than fear and chaos. She deserved to feel safe, to feel free, even if it was just for a little while.
An idea began to form in my mind, and I grabbed my phone, scrolling through the weather app. It was going to be a clear day. Perfect.
When Naomi finally stirred, her hair tousled and her eyes heavy with sleep, I was already pulling a bag together.
“Morning,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
“Morning,” I said with a small smile. “Get dressed. We’re going out.”
She blinked at me, her brow furrowing. “Out? Like, outside-out?”
“Yeah,” I said, tossing her jacket onto the couch beside her. “It’s a nice day, and I figured we could use a break.”
Her lips quirked into a small smile, though suspicion flickered in her eyes. “This isn’t some elaborate ploy to get me to do cardio, is it?”
“Not unless you count walking to the car,” I said, chuckling. “Trust me. You’ll like it.”
The drive was quiet, the kind of comfortable silence that felt more like companionship than avoidance. Naomi leaned her head against the window, watching the trees blur by as we left the town behind. The farther we got, the lighter the air felt, the weight of the past few weeks falling away with every mile.
When I pulled into the gravel lot near the park, she straightened, her eyes widening slightly as she took in the familiar surroundings.
“This place,” she said softly, her voice tinged with nostalgia.
“Yeah,” I said, turning off the engine. “Figured it might be nice to come back.”
We stepped out of the car, the crunch of gravel underfoot grounding me as I watched her take it all in. The park hadn’t changed much over the years—the same winding trails, the same towering trees. It felt like stepping back in time.
“I haven’t been here since...” She trailed off, her gaze distant.
“Since we were kids,” I finished for her, stuffing my hands into my pockets. “I thought about this place a lot after you left.”
She turned to me, a flicker of something soft in her eyes. “You did?”
I nodded, motioning for her to follow me down the trail. “Yeah. It was kind of our spot, you know? Always felt like I could breathe here.”
She fell into step beside me, her pace matching mine as we walked in silence. The trail led to a small clearing near the creek, the water glinting in the sunlight as it meandered through the trees. A weathered bench sat off to the side, and I motioned for her to sit.
Naomi brushed off the seat before sitting down, crossing her legs and leaning forward slightly. “I forgot how quiet it is out here.”
“Peaceful, huh?” I said, sitting beside her.
“Yeah,” she said softly, her gaze fixed on the water. “I missed this.”
“Me too,” I admitted. “I came out here a few times after you left. Tried to figure out why things went the way they did.”
Her shoulders tensed slightly, and I regretted bringing it up, but she surprised me by speaking first.
“I didn’t want to leave,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But at the time, I thought it was the only choice I had.”
I turned to her, my chest tightening at the vulnerability in her voice. “You could’ve told me.”
“I know,” she said, meeting my gaze. “And I’m sorry, Hudson. I didn’t think you’d understand.”
“I would’ve,” I said, my voice firm. “Maybe not perfectly, but I would’ve tried.”
She looked away, her fingers toying with the edge of her jacket. “I thought about you a lot. After I left.”
“Yeah?” I asked, my throat tight.
She nodded, her smile faint but real. “You were my best friend, Hudson. You were... everything.”
The words hit me like a freight train, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. She looked at me then, her eyes shining with something I couldn’t quite name, and it felt like the world tilted on its axis.
“You were everything to me too,” I said, my voice rough.
She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You always knew how to make things sound so simple.”
“Maybe it is simple,” I said, leaning back against the bench. “You and me, here, like this. It feels right.”
She smiled, a real, genuine smile that made my chest ache. “It does.”
The sun climbed higher as we talked, the hours slipping away like water through our fingers. Naomi shared stories of her time away, the places she’d seen, the things she’d learned. I told her about the life I’d built here, the ways I’d tried to move forward without her.
Somewhere along the way, the tension between us melted, replaced by the easy camaraderie we’d had as kids. She laughed at something I said, the sound bright and unrestrained, and the memory hit me like a freight train—she’d always been the one I couldn’t let go of.