Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
HUDSON
Three years after Selection
Not in a bad way. Or maybe in a bad way. Hard to tell.
The point was: Shaw was here, at the wedding. He had shown up last night looking criminally good in a button-down shirt, and Hudson had spent all night staring at the ceiling thinking about how many bad decisions he was prepared to make to get in on that.
Turns out? A lot. Like, an impressive amount for someone who was supposed to be a trained military professional with at least some capacity for strategic thinking.
He sat up, running both hands through his hair.
He had spent three years trying to prove to himself Shaw wasn't special.
Three years of hooking up with people—girls, guys, whoever was interested and interesting—in a very scientific attempt to demonstrate that what happened at Selection had been circumstance.
Proximity. Convenience. Stress and competition and hormones all combining into a feeling that seemed significant but wasn't, because how could three months define the rest of your life? That would be insane.
Except it turned out Hudson's dick and his heart had both independently reached the same conclusion, which was that Shaw was absolutely special, and no number of other people were going to change that.
So, yeah. He was fucked.
Therefore, Hudson had decided sometime around 0200 when he’d finally given up on sleep: if he was fucked, he might as well be fucked in the fun way. The way that involved Shaw's hands on him, his mouth on him, Hudson being taken apart the way only Shaw seemed capable of.
Not forever—Hudson wasn't delusional. They lived on opposite sides of the country, when they were even home, and Shaw had made it pretty clear three years ago that relationships weren't really his thing.
Plus the military situation, which Hudson chose not to think about too much because it would be too depressing.
But one more night to remember instead of spending the rest of his life wondering?
Yeah. Hudson wanted that.
He got out of bed and headed for the shower, already working out his approach.
The wedding was at some vineyard an hour outside of Fayetteville that Sarah had apparently been obsessed with since she was twelve.
Hudson had to admit, it was pretty nice.
Rolling hills, rows of grapevines getting ready for summer, one of those rustic barn venues that cost more money than Hudson made in six months.
Reed and Sarah had decided to do the ceremony outside despite it being March in North Carolina, which meant everyone was freezing their asses off in dress uniform and fancy dresses while pretending this was totally fine and romantic.
Hudson stood with the other guests on the lawn, hands shoved in his pockets, and scanned the crowd for Shaw.
He spotted him near the front standing with a group he didn't recognize.
Dark blue fabric pressed to perfection, medals catching the afternoon sun.
Clean shaven jaw. A strand of hair falling down his forehead.
At parade rest, shoulders back, spine straight, his face was set with the controlled intensity that Hudson loved. No, liked.
The uniform hid everything Hudson could vividly map from memory. Broad shoulders tapering to a lean waist. Defined six-pack. Tattoos snaking across Shaw’s upper body. A very well-defined a—
Shaw's gaze swept past him, landing on something in the distance before swinging back. Their eyes locked across twenty feet of cold grass. Shaw held his gaze for so long Hudson forgot, briefly, how cold it was.
Shaw's mouth twitched. Then a guest nearby pulled his attention away, back to parade rest, and Hudson could breathe again.
Sort of.
"You okay, man?" Novak appeared at his elbow, eyebrows raised. "You look like you're about to pass out."
"Fine. Just freezing."
Studying his face, Novak followed his gaze to Shaw. "Right. Freezing.”
Novak had shot him a look at the rehearsal dinner last night that suggested he knew more than he let on. This confirmed it. Fucking military guys. Always so damn perceptive.
"Shut up."
"You know Reed seated you two at the same table for dinner, right?"
"What?"
"Same table. You, me, Shaw, Fernandez, couple other people from Selection." Novak grinned. "Should be fun."
"Reed's an asshole."
"Reed's a romantic. He thinks you two should talk."
"We talked last night."
"Dude, don’t remind me," Novak clapped him on the shoulder. "Try actual talking this time."
A string quartet saved Hudson from having to respond. He made his way to Reed’s side, very professionally, as groomsmen did.
Reed seemed terrified, which Hudson found weirdly comforting. At least someone else at this wedding was having emotions they didn't know how to handle.
The ceremony itself was nice. Sarah looked beautiful, and Reed gaped at her like he couldn't believe his luck. The officiant said things about love and commitment and choosing each other every day, and Hudson’s eyes stung. He wanted that. Hadn’t known how much until now.
Hudson wondered if Shaw ever let himself want things like this—weddings and forever and someone who knew all your shit and stuck around anyway. Or if Shaw still didn’t let himself want anything that wasn’t on The General’s pre-approved list.
Shaw's head turned slightly, as if he could read Hudson’s mind. Their eyes met for half a second before he glanced away again.
Reed and Sarah kissed. Everyone clapped. Hudson blinked rapidly.
Then he did the math—four hours until dinner, at which point Reed’s seating chart would do the work for him whether he was ready or not.
Dinner was exactly as awkward as Hudson had anticipated.
Novak had been right—Reed had seated them together. Hudson, Shaw, Novak, Fernandez, and a couple other people from Selection. Hudson couldn’t remember their names because his entire brain was occupied with the fact that Shaw sat across from him looking infuriatingly calm and collected—and hot.
"So," Fernandez said, clearly trying to break the ice. "Anyone got any good deployment stories?"
"None I can talk about," Shaw said.
"NATO operations are classified," Novak added.
"CSAR missions too," Hudson agreed.
"Right." Fernandez nodded. "Cool. Anyone want to talk about... sports?"
"I don't follow sports," Shaw said.
"Been deployed too long." Hudson shrugged.
"Weather?" Fernandez tried. "How's the weather where you all are?"
Shaw's mouth twitched. Hudson bit back a laugh. Novak seemed like he wanted to leave.
"The weather's great, Fernandez," Novak said. "Germany’s cold. Middle East’s sunny."
Fernandez gave up.
The rest of dinner passed in a blur of awkward small talk. Every time Shaw moved, Hudson noticed. Every time Shaw's leg shifted under the table, Hudson felt it. At one point their feet brushed and Hudson nearly dropped his fork.
Get it together, he told himself. You've seen combat. You've emergency-landed burning helicopters. You’ve got this.
The toasts started after dinner. Hudson knocked back more whiskey preparing himself for his upcoming speech.
When it was his turn, he cleared his throat, tapped the mic and immediately regretted agreeing to this.
“So,” he started, “three years ago, belly-down in the Montana dirt, Reed and I were on a recon assignment—” He paused as Reed muttered something from his seat. “Right, and phone guy. Very serious military business.”
Everyone laughed.
“Anyway, in the middle of all that, Reed turns to me and says he’s going to ask Sarah to marry him.” He turned to Reed. “Just like that. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.”
He let that land.
“I gave him a hard time about it. Obviously. But the thing is—” Hudson glanced down at his notes, then put them away. “The thing is, Reed knew. He just knew. And I remember wondering what that feels like. To be that certain about someone.”
He found Shaw across the table without meaning to, then his gaze shifted to Sarah.
“Sarah—I haven’t known you as long as this idiot has, but I’ve heard the way he talks about you. The way he’s talked about you for four years. I’d like to think I'm the reason he survived Selection with his personality intact, but we all know it was you.”
Hudson paused. Hadn’t meant to, but words caught in his throat.
“Reed might not seem that smart—” Reed flipped him off. “But it didn't take him long to figure out that risk isn't the scary part. The scary part is deciding you’re allowed to want more in the first place.”
Shaw sat very still across the table.
“Anyway.” He cleared his throat. “We do scary for a living. That’s the job.
But this kind of scary—” he gestured at Reed and Sarah “—this is the one we usually run from. But life’s too short to be afraid of the good stuff.
Turns out, Reed figured that out before any of us.
” He raised his glass. “To Reed and Sarah. May you always go all in.”
Hudson sat down to applause and immediately reached for his whiskey.
"Not bad, Hale," Novak said.
"Who knew you had it in you, hermano," Fernandez agreed. “Very sensitive.”
“Don’t.”
“I’m serious. Hallmark would love you.”
“Shut up, dumbass.” Hudson laughed and threw his napkin at him.
Novak raised his glass. ”To Hale’s career in greeting cards.”
Shaw chuckled under his breath.
Across the room Reed got up and everyone fell quiet.
"I'm not good at speeches," Reed started, and everyone laughed because Reed was notorious for hating public speaking. "But Sarah made me promise I'd say something, so here we are."
When his eyes found Sarah, his entire face softened and a hot stab of jealousy hit Hudson.
"I spent a lot of years thinking I didn't need anyone," Reed said. "Thinking I was fine on my own. And I was. But fine isn't the same as happy. Fine isn't the same as knowing someone has your back no matter what, who sees all your flaws and loves you anyway."
Hudson's eyes stung again. Damn it. He was not going to cry at Reed’s wedding.
"So thank you," Reed said to Sarah. "For sticking around. For putting up with my shit. For making me realize that fine was never good enough when I could have this instead."
Everyone clapped. Sarah cried. Reed sat down looking relieved it was over.
Hudson excused himself because he needed five minutes to not feel things in public.
The bathroom was blessedly empty. Hudson leaned against the sink, running cold water over his wrists because that was supposed to help with… overheating? Emotions?
The door opened.
Shaw walked in and didn’t seem surprised to find Hudson there. Had he followed him?
Hudson shot him a look. "Hey.”
"Hey." Shaw moved to the sink a couple of spots over and turned on the water. “Good speech.”
He watched Shaw wash his hands—remembered them on him, in him. He swallowed hard. “Yeah?”
"If only it was always that simple."
Hudson found Shaw’s eyes in the mirror. "Pretty sure that was the whole point, Shaw. Sometimes you just have to—" he gestured vaguely "—go all in."
He pushed off the sink and stepped closer.
"You've been drinking," Shaw said, turning to him.
"Little bit." Hudson held his gaze. "Needed the courage."
"For what?"
Hudson took another step closer. "I've been thinking about you for three years. Tried not to. Doesn't seem to be working."
Shaw's jaw tightened. "Hale—"
"I'm not asking for forever," Hudson said. "Or for anything complicated. I just—" He stopped, made himself say it clearly. "I want you. That's all. One more time."
The words hung between them. Hudson's pulse thrummed in his throat. Shaw studied him with an expression he couldn't quite read—surprised, maybe, or calculating, or both.
"You're drunk."
"I'm drunk enough to be honest. Still sober enough to mean it."
Shaw's expression darkened. "And tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow I fly back to Bagram and we go back to our lives." He shrugged, even though his hands were shaking. "But if you want… we could have tonight."
Shaw stayed very still, reading his face as if there was a right answer somewhere if he searched hard enough.
Then his hand came up, fingers wrapping around Hudson's wrist, thumb pressing against his pulse point. "My hotel's ten minutes from here."
Hudson's breath caught. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Shaw's grip tightened. Something hungry and certain crossed his face. "Let's go."