Chapter Twenty-Six Hudson
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Hudson
I’m lounging on my hotel bed, idly listening to the distant laughter and cheers from down the hall. We barely scraped by with a win against the Harborview Hawks, and while the team seems to be celebrating, relief weighs heavier on me than joy.
Levi is digging through his duffel bag, hunting for something to wear that’s less gym-scented and more socially acceptable. “You coming or what?” he calls, assuming I’m up for another team outing.
“Nah,” I reply, cracking open my laptop. “Got some CV feedback to review.”
“Man, you never shut that brain off, do you?” He finds a shirt that passes the sniff test and chuckles at me.
“It’s hard to do when your brain’s this big,” I say, tapping my temple with a smirk.
“And your ego,” he mumbles under his breath as he slips the shirt over his head.
The door clicks shut behind him, leaving the room suddenly too quiet. I’m alone with my thoughts and the soft glow of my laptop. The professional feedback on my CV is open in front of me, stark and unforgiving: Cut the long explanations. Keep it simple. Just a list of your major awards .
I stare at the screen. Eight years of football, reduced to a bulleted list. All the sacrifices, the victories, the moments of pain and triumph, shrunk down into a few sparse lines that could never convey the depth of my commitment.
And then there’s cheer. No mention of it on my CV, not even a footnote. If Coach Morgan lets me step in last minute for the team, it still wouldn’t merit a mention in my applications.
There are a number of reasons I volunteered to cover for Ash, some of which I’m still figuring out for myself. Of course, there was that withdrawn look on Ella’s face when I showed up to Skyline, her shoulders heavy with defeat.
I want to help her achieve her goals. Plus, I want to spend more time with her. But there’s also this deeper, more selfish need—a chance to reconnect with a part of myself I’d shelved in pursuit of football.
Minimizing the CV feedback, I open a text message thread with Ella. We haven’t been able to practice together again, to go full out with the routine like she wanted to that first night. I promised her we’ll get to it when I get home, but I know she’ll be stressing.
I type out a few encouraging words, then hesitate and backspace through them all. Instead, I consider asking her how she’s holding up, what she’s been up to, but that doesn’t feel quite right either. Eventually, I settle on something much simpler.
Hudson: we won. Ella: wow, you sound so excited Hudson: well, I played like shit, so Ella: no, you didn’t Hudson: you watched the game?
Ella: of course Ella: had to make sure you didn’t injure yourself.
can’t afford to lose another partner x Hudson: thanks for the concern.
I’ll try to stay in one piece for you Ella: do.
I don’t fancy having to break in another impromptu base Hudson: I’m irreplaceable, huh?
Ella: sure. now get some sleep. we’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow
I sigh, and then plunge my hands through my hair, switching my gaze to the cursor on the screen. I power down my laptop and unplug it from the wall, abandoning my half-hearted attempt at the CV revision.
A restless energy has me pacing the room, pulling me toward the window. I press my hands against the cold glass, looking down at the mostly empty streets below.
Ella’s right. I do need to get some sleep, but my brain isn’t ready to shut down yet. I’m too wound up from the game, from the pressure, and from this strange new dynamic between us. The stakes are higher now. It’s uncharted territory, but it’s pulling at me harder than I expected.
I grab my phone again, scrolling through the notes I’ve made on the routine, some ideas that might make the transitions smoother.
My mind races with possibilities, each more intricate than the last. It’s the kind of focus I used to reserve for football, for classes, now redirected at this—a sport I pushed to the back of my mind a long time ago.
And Ella, she’s right there in the thick of it, not just as a partner but as part of the reason I’m reevaluating my priorities.
I’m not just doing this for her, though, or for the chance to compete again.
I’m doing this for the kid who used to think he couldn’t play the game anymore.
The game that cost his father everything.
For the pre-teen who found solace in cheer when the weight of legacy became too much.
For the high-school junior who gave it all up in pursuit of a new goal.
Retrieving my phone, I draft another message to Ella, then erase it. What am I trying to say? That I’m nervous? That I hope she trusts me not to fuck this up?
Instead, I type out a different kind of message.
Hudson: just had an idea for the routine. let’s talk in the morning? Ella: call me before you get on the bus? Hudson: *saluting emoji* Ella: night, Hudson Hudson: goodnight
The world outside is barely lit as I quietly slide open the balcony door.
Levi’s snoring fills the room behind me.
I need to make this call without waking him, and Ella’s already up—her recent Instagram likes are timestamped just minutes ago.
She seems to be an early riser, or maybe she just never went to bed.
I dial her number, phone pressed to my ear.
“Hey,” she answers, her voice sleepy and low.
“Hey. So, I’ve been thinking about the routine,” I start, leaning on the balcony railing. “What if we switch out the initial stunt to a handski? It’s dynamic, could score us a bit higher.”
There’s a pause, a stretch of silence where I can almost hear her frown. “I don’t think we should switch things up right now. We haven’t even nailed it as it is.”
“Do you want to just compete, or do you want to win?”
“Oh, come on. Right now, we don’t even know if we have a chance at all. If Coach Morgan will go for the ridiculous idea in the first place. I just want to qualify.”
I exhale, the breath misting in the morning air. “Fine. But if she lets me join the team, you have to promise to try it with me.”
“I promise.” Her voice softens. “What are you doing right now?”
“I’m out on the balcony, trying not to wake Levi,” I say as I watch a jogger pass by below. “And you?”
“I’m lying in bed, doom-scrolling.”
“Where’s the discipline, Davies?” I tease.
“It’s Sunday morning. Don’t I get a break?”
“I’m fucking with you. Scroll all you want. We won’t be home till noon.”
“Skyline’s closed today,” she reminds me.
“We could hit the park?” I suggest, watching the sky brighten, a slow fade from dark to a wash of blue.
“You know of a good one?”
“I know of a great one. It will do us some good to get outside,” I say, “get a fresh perspective.”
There’s a rustle, the sound of sheets moving. “You know, I didn’t say it before, but … thank you. Honestly. You didn’t have to do this. Despite the gap in your schedule, I know you still have a lot going on.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad to be of service.”
“So, I’ll see you later?”
“One o’clock. Hadley Park,” I confirm, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips.
“Mmm, I’ll be there.”
The line clicks and the call ends. I pocket my phone. The city is waking up, light spilling over tall buildings, and I’m strangely energized.
It’s early afternoon and we’ve made our way out to Hadley. The dew on the grass wets our shoes, but we’re too wired on adrenaline to care.
Luke’s here to spot, Ash is our coach for the day, and Sammy and Gabi have made themselves comfortable on a sprawling blanket. There’s an entire picnic spread out before them like they’re at some summer concert series rather than a cheer practice.
They shout occasional words of mock encouragement, munching on sandwiches and sipping from water bottles. “Just don’t drop her, Foxy. That’s precious cargo!” Gabi calls, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she waves a half-eaten apple.
I grin, even though I can tell Ella’s not entirely amused. The added noise, the casualness of it all, it’s affecting her concentration. She’s more stiff, more precise, as if she thinks their eyes are judging our every move.
After fumbling a trickier stunt, I drop my hands from Ella’s waist and turn to our spectators. “Maybe keep the commentary to a minimum, or, you know, just enjoy your picnic and kindly fuck off?”
Gabi rolls her eyes but complies, her voice dropping to a whisper as she leans back into her conversation with Sammy. They turn their attention away, and I catch Ella’s small, relieved smile.
“From the top?” she suggests, her voice steady, eyes clear.
“You got it,” I confirm, and we dive back into the routine.
This time, we push through the entire sequence full-out, correcting earlier mistakes but hitting a slight bobble that only those as nitpicky as us would notice.
Still, we power through to the end, and there’s a rush in completing it as a whole.
Ella’s eyes light up for a moment. It’s a sort of pure, unguarded pride, but she reins it in almost immediately, a subtle shift back to her cautious self.
“Pretty solid, huh?” I say, trying to keep that light from dimming too much.
“It was fine,” she says, her lips twitching into a smile that suggests she’s more pleased than she’ll admit.
I nod toward the blanket brigade, who offer a smattering of applause, more enthusiastic now that they’ve seen us perfect most of it. “Let’s go again. We’ll nail it today. Then we can show Morgan before practice tomorrow.”
Ella nods, squaring her shoulders as we prepare for another round.
This time, the routine feels nearly perfect.
There’s no hesitation in her jumps, no uncertainty in my catches.
We hit a double up, flow into a one-arm rewind, and execute four more high-level stunts with a precision that feels like second nature now.
We finish, and even from across the park, Gabi and Sammy cheer for us—real ones this time.
Ella’s chest heaves with exertion, but her eyes are bright. “That felt a lot better.”
“It did,” I agree, my own heart racing not just from the physical exertion but from the rush of a flawless execution. “That was it. That’s what we need to show Morgan.”
It’s obvious how in sync we are. How seamlessly we move together. Ella knows it, and so do I. She stares at me for a beat, smooths her hands over her hair, and falters.
I curve my hand around her waist, savoring the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her top. “Are you feeling good about this?” I ask in a low voice.
She nods slowly, her breath still coming in short bursts. “Yeah, I am.”
These practice sessions, the need to anticipate each other’s moves, has drawn us closer in ways I hadn’t expected. It’s a quiet intensity. Every touch, every fleeting glance, carries a new weight. But it’s more than just the routine; it’s the connection we’re building, the trust we’re forging.
Her eyes flicker to my hand on her waist, and for a moment I see a vulnerability there. It’s a raw sort of openness that makes my chest tighten. I give her a reassuring squeeze, and she relaxes slightly, leaning into me.
“Good,” I say softly. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
“It helps that you’re incredible at this. Like, oddly so,” she admits, though it sounds like it costs her something to say it.
I laugh. “Oh, don’t think you can charm your way into my pants.”
She shoves me gently, a mock scowl on her face. “You always have to ruin it, don’t you, Fox?”
“Keeps you on your toes, though,” I say, grinning.
“Unnecessary.”
“A requirement of our deal, actually.”
“Speaking of.” She raises an eyebrow. “We should probably set some real ground rules now that circumstances have changed.”
“Here?” I glance over at our laughing friends, Ash and Luke now sprawled across the picnic blanket, too. “Now?”
“No, but … before the break? You’re headed home to Texas, yeah?”
“Mm-hmm. Levi, too. Just for a few days,” I tell her. “We can talk before then. Lay out all the rules.”
She purses her lips, and scarlet heat warms her cheeks. “For one, we probably shouldn’t be sleeping together while we’re training.”
“No problem. I’ll just go down on you for a few months.”
“I’m serious.”
My insides turn over. “Is that what you want, then? For us to stop hooking up?”
“I—I don’t know. Let me think on it for a bit?”
I brush a lock of hair away from her eyes. “Alright. You think on it. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t stop. No question there. So just let me know what you want, Davies, and I’ll be that for you.”
“I will,” she says, and then she turns to go.
I watch her walk away, her figure silhouetted against the setting sun. She’s glowing in the same way she always does—radiant, effortlessly captivating. And when she sits down with our friends, I know she’ll pretend she didn’t just reach a hand into my gut and twist it.