Chapter 19 HUDSON
HUDSON
Icouldn’t remember the last time I’d slept so well.
No stiffness in my back. No ache in my legs. No weight pressing down on my chest like a goddamn boulder. Just warmth. Quiet. A soft sheet tangled around my waist.
I smiled as the memory of Matty flooded my mind. He’d been in my bed last night. We’d talked and kissed and made love. And it’d been beautiful.
We’d held each other.
We’d found our rhythm again.
God, it’d felt so fucking good to fall asleep with my head on his chest. I stretched a little, rolling onto my side, instinctively reaching toward the other half of the bed—
Nothing.
My fingers brushed a pillow. Cool. Empty.
I blinked, confusion sliding in to replace the comfort. I pushed up on one elbow, rubbed my eyes, then patted the mattress again, slower this time, like maybe I’d missed him somehow.
But no Matty.
The space where he’d been was cold.
I sat up fully, heart knocking a little harder against my ribs.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Last night felt like a turning point.
Like the moment we’d finally stopped pretending.
We’d made promises with our hands and mouths, if not with words.
And yeah, I’d fallen asleep fast, but I figured I’d wake up to his thigh across mine or his stupid heavy arm draped over my waist.
That was how it always used to be.
We’d switch positions during the night without ever meaning to, one of us always finding our way around the other. It became a little joke between us. Who would be the big spoon by morning? Who would groan and accuse the other of being a blanket thief?
But this morning… no blanket thief.
No Matty.
My chest tightened.
Had he left?
Had he woken up and realized he’d made a mistake?
I dragged a hand over my face and dropped back against the bed, staring at the ceiling. Shit. What if he’d had time to think about all the baggage I’d dumped on him? About being a prostitute. My prison record. His mother.
Maybe I should have left that part out. Maybe I should have left a lot of it out.
And then Ivy, screaming in the night like her little soul was splitting in half.
What the hell kind of life was I offering him?
What the hell kind of man was I?
I rolled onto my side, staring at the crumpled pillow again, trying to find some trace of him in the dent left behind.
He wouldn’t just… leave.
Not after last night.
Not after the way he’d kissed me and held me after.
Would he?
I frowned, listening to the stillness. No sound from Ivy.
She always came into my bed if she was awake before me, climbing under the covers, burrowing into my side, whispering “Daddee” in that soft little voice like she thought I might disappear if she spoke too loud.
Was she still asleep?
I reached blindly for my phone on the nightstand. I blinked at the time.
11:47 a.m.
“Shit.”
My heart dropped. I bolted upright so fast I whacked my shin against the corner of the bed frame.
“Fuuuck,” I hissed through my teeth, hopping on one foot as pain radiated up my leg. “Goddammit.”
I’d missed half the day of work, and I couldn’t afford to have my pay docked. Gray probably wouldn’t, but what would I say as an excuse? Your son wore me out last night, so I slept like a log. I couldn’t take advantage of Gray that way. He’d already done so much for our little family.
There was no way Ivy was still asleep. Why hadn’t she woken me up? The last time she’d tried pouring water on her own and had gotten the floor wet. What if she tried to…
Oh God.
I rushed out of the bedroom barefoot, skidding a little on the hardwood as I rounded the corner into the hall, then the living room.
And stopped short in the kitchen doorway.
Matty stood at the counter in one of his old T-shirts that I’d stolen from him four years ago.
I wore it all the time, and now it was faded and soft, shrunk to fit his frame like it had been made for this exact moment.
He could’ve been modeling a flour-splattered romance cover, barefoot, sleeves rolled up, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Ivy stood beside him on the stepstool, piping bag clutched in her frosting-coated hand, her little tongue poking out the side of her mouth in concentration.
They were decorating a cake.
A crooked, sunken, lopsided thing with too much frosting globbed on one side, and gummy bears stuck into the top like a toddler’s version of modern art.
The kitchen was a wreck.
Flour dusted every surface—the counters, the floor, Ivy’s curls. A streak of icing ran across Matty’s cheek like war paint. An empty egg carton lay on its side beside a bowl of half-melted butter, and there were suspicious smears of something blue on the cabinet handles.
It looked like a tornado had hit a bakery.
And it was the most beautiful damn thing I’d ever seen.
My heart stuttered.
“Matt?”
He hadn’t left. He was keeping my three-year-old occupied so I could get some extra hours of sleep.
Matty turned, eyes crinkling at the sides from his smile. “There you are,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I was starting to think you might sleep through lunch.”
I groaned, entering the kitchen. “What have you two been doing?”
“We bake a cake, Daddee!” Ivy cried.
“I see, pumpkin.” Moving closer to inspect their handiwork, I scratched my chin like I was a cake critic. “Well, well, what do we have here?”
“Do you like it, Daddee?”
“Five out of five stars for sure.” I ruffled the top of her head. “You did great work, Bug.”
“Maah helped! You pat Maah’s head too, Daddee.”
Matty smirked, eyes glinting with that mischievous light I’d missed more than I’d ever admit. “Yeah, Daddee,” he said, mimicking Ivy’s tone with a teasing twist, “pat my head too.”
My stomach flipped at Matty’s playful tone. So much for thinking he’d changed his mind about us. My cheeks flamed, but I shook my head and reached out to give Matty’s head a little pat. “There. There. Big boys don’t really need pats now. Do they?”
Instead of answering, he leaned in and kissed me, a quick press of lips, but it knocked the wind outta me because it felt so familiar.
He’d been this affectionate back then too.
Without thought, he would kiss me whenever he liked, touched me however he liked.
It was the most natural thing about him, and I’d missed it. I’d missed him.
God, I’d forgotten how good it felt to be kissed without a reason.
I rubbed the back of my neck and cleared my throat, suddenly shy, like I was back at the bar on our first date when I found out he was only nineteen and not allowed to drink. Only difference was that I didn’t hightail it this time.
Ivy, oblivious to my spiral, held out something toward me with frosting-covered fingers. “Worm fuh you, Daddee.”
“Worm? Just what kind of cake is this?”
“Gummy worm.”
I took it with mock reverence and popped it into my mouth. “Mmm. Breakfast of champions.”
Ivy giggled. “It’s not b’fast. It cake time!”
“Sorry, sorry.” I grinned despite myself. Then I sobered up a little. “I’m sorry I slept in. Should’ve been up hours ago to take care of Ivy. You turned off my alarm, didn’t you?”
“You were sleeping through it.” Matty shrugged, licking frosting off his thumb. “Thought I’d give you a break. You were tired. You earned it.”
I frowned. “Still. I should’ve—”
“I already called the ranch. Told Dad we wouldn’t be in today.”
I gaped. “We?”
“Yeah, someone had to keep Ivy occupied while you slept in.”
“But we can’t both miss work.” I placed an arm around his waist because I couldn’t bear not touching him.
The only thing keeping me from climbing him was the three-year-old impressionable child piling worms on her cake with a fascination that should be studied.
“They can’t afford to lose two ranch hands today. ”
“I got a couple of guys from town to fill in for us. Paid them out of my own pocket. It’s handled.”
I blinked. “You paid them before they did the work?”
He shrugged again, way too casually. “It’s a small town. Not so hard to find them if they don’t do the work.”
I rubbed my temples. “Okay. So what am I supposed to do with my day?”
“Whatever you want. Ivy and I have already gotten a start. We had breakfast—”
“You had breakfast already?”
“Of course. It’s noon. Ivy was hungry, so I took her out for breakfast. Then we went grocery shopping—”
“But I already bought groceries yesterday.” I walked over to the fridge and yanked the door open. My jaw dropped. Fresh fruits and vegetables, juice, milk, eggs, and lots more were crammed into every corner of the fridge. “What the hell, Matt?”
“Daddee, you said a bad word!”
“Sorry, Ivy, I meant heck. What the heck, Matt?”
Ivy puffed out her chest. “Maah bought me snacks too, Daddee. Loooots and loooots of snacks.”
My jaw ticked. He hadn’t.
Without a word, I stalked to the pantry. I yanked the door open and stared.
Full shelves.
Fully stocked shelves.
Cans lined up like parade soldiers. Boxes stacked like bricks: candy, snacks, cereal, cereal bars. Bottles of water, cans of soda, energy drinks. He hadn’t just bought snacks for Ivy. Hell, there were even paper towels, and we were always down to the last roll.
My throat tightened. The damn pantry hadn’t looked like this since before Heather left.
I stood there a moment longer, then shut the door with a soft click.
“Bug.” I turned back around. “Can you give me and Matt a minute, please?”
Ivy looked up, finger halfway to her mouth. “Uh-oh,” she whispered dramatically. “Maah’s in trouble. Daddee gonna put Maah in time-out.”
She scampered off with frosting on her chin, muttering something about how Maah was in trouble now.
“Are you?” Matty asked. “Gonna put me in time-out that is?”
“Matt, this isn’t funny. You didn’t need to do all that.”
Matty raised a brow. “All what?”
“The groceries. The snacks. The cake. Paying for help at the ranch. Taking care of Ivy. You don’t need to do all this. I can take care of my kid. I’ve been doing it on my own.”