Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
ELLIOT
Two days after Elliot returned to Fort Liberty, he had found Reed on his doorstep.
“You look like shit,” Reed said, balancing Mae on his hip. They stood there looking at each other until Mae wiggled her way out of Reed’s arms and stormed Elliot’s home.
“Thank you.”
“I’m serious. You look like you hit a roadside bomb.”
Elliot snorted. “I see your humor didn’t go MIA too.”
Reed pulled him into an embrace and Elliot patted him awkwardly on the back. “I missed you too, man.”
He shoved a six-pack in Elliot’s hand and walked past him into the house—and that had been that. Twice a week ever since, Elliot either ate dinner at the Reeds or had Reed appearing on his doorstep with leftovers and beer. Last week Reed had even texted him at 0600.
Reed: You good?
Elliot: Yes.
Reed: Sarah made breakfast burritos. Coming over
Elliot: It’s 0600. Don’t.
Reed: Too late already on my way
He'd eaten two burritos and let Reed ramble on about Sarah wanting another baby, sooner rather than later. And he hadn’t minded at all.
When he woke up in a hospital room four months ago he hadn’t been entirely sure what had happened. That part had resolved itself quickly though: the year, the country, the road, the blast, his boyfriend slumped in the chair next to him.
The rest had taken longer. The headaches that arrived without warning and stayed for hours. The sensitivity to light that made hospital corridors feel like an assault. Noise was the worst—the way loud sounds landed all wrong, slightly off-register, forcing his skull to recalibrate.
He’d been told he got off easy. Three doctors had said so, all meaning it as reassurance. Elliot had agreed, but flinching at car doors slamming four months later made everything feel relative.
Being home helped. His own space, his own routines. Reed and Sarah two miles down the road. But now he was getting restless. There was something missing and he knew perfectly well what it was.
Elliot had known JFK would be loud.
He’d taken the quieter entrance. Arrived early enough to find a position near the arrivals board that wasn’t in the main flow of foot traffic. He’d even made sure to take two ibuprofen on the train.
Still, none of it fully prepared him for the moment he walked into the arrivals hall. The sound of it all hit him: the announcements, the luggage wheeling past him, hundreds of people in one space. He pressed his fingers against his temple and breathed. In for four, hold for four, out for four.
Hudson had been dark for most of the deployment, which had been the most excruciating part of it all.
Major Okafor had allowed a handful of calls over the last four months.
Sometimes they were really brief and other times Hudson spent twelve minutes telling Elliot about a bird named Gerald that had taken residence outside the ops room window.
Elliot pulled out his phone and read their first text exchange in months.
Hudson: u better be wearing a T-shirt so I can see the tattoos
Elliot: I’m not going to let you dictate my outfit.
Hudson: u do remember what the tattoos do to me, right?
Elliot: No. Head injury. Remind me?
Hudson: dumbass. Wear a fucking T-shirt and I’ll make it worth your wild
Elliot: It’s ‘while’
Hudson: shut up
Elliot grinned. God, he missed him so much it hurt.
ETA for the red eye from Seattle-Tacoma was thirty-two minutes ago. Elliot’s eyes were locked on the double doors, opening and closing every few seconds to let strangers through.
He’d gotten a call from Hudson just past midnight and answered it with his eyes closed.
“I swear I’ll make the flight. I just had to go straight from Lewis-McChord to my apartment to grab some stuff.”
“If you're not here in six hours, I’m gonna come over there and get you myself.”
Hudson laughed. He sounded tired, but relieved too. Elliot understood. Coming home after a deployment like that was equal parts exhausting and liberating.
“Oh, by the way. I talked to Taylor… hold on—” Hudson shuffled with his phone, thanked a woman, then returned. “She insisted on being there even though I explicitly told her not to bother.”
Elliot opened his eyes. “Be where?”
“JFK. Sorry… you don’t know her. She’s fucking relentless. Elliot, gotta go. Boarding.” The noise in the background intensified. “See you soon, okay? Love you.” And then he’d hung up.
Elliot scanned the arrivals hall warily. Besides the photo he saw on Hudson’s fridge when he visited years ago, he didn’t know what Taylor looked like. He imagined an energetic woman with Hudson’s curly hair and strong jaw walking around like she owned the place.
After ten minutes he concluded there were no such women there. Maybe she had in fact listened to Hudson, which mildly surprised him. He was focusing his gaze back on the sliding doors, when someone appeared at his side.
“You look like someone my brother would do.”
Elliot turned.
She was standing directly beside him, which meant she had approached from this blind side.
He was choosing to attribute that to the noise rather than any lapse in situational awareness.
As expected she had Hudson’s jaw, and his eyes.
She was wearing a Taylor Swift tote bag with the words ‘I’m the problem, it's me’ over one shoulder and a very excited look on her face.
“You're Elliot, right?” she said. “I’m Taylor. Obviously.”
Elliot eyed her. “That opening line would have been a significant miscalculation if I wasn’t.”
Taylor stared at him for half a second. Then she laughed out loud. “Hudson didn’t tell me you were funny.”
“I’m not.”
“Mom,” Taylor turned to call over her shoulder. “He’s funny.”
Gloria Hale materialized from behind Taylor, shooting her a look that said cut it out. She was small, had short, blond hair and piercing, dark blue eyes. She smiled warmly at Elliot and he felt the nape of his neck turn a little sweaty.
Okay. So Hudson’s family was here too. He could have used a little more time to prepare.
“Elliot,” she said and engulfed him in a tight hug.
He hadn’t expected it. Here he was, in the embrace of a woman he had never met before, feeling oddly comfortable. She smelled like coffee and sweets. He thought about his own mother and how he’d almost forgotten what she smelled like.
“I’m very glad you’re all right,” Gloria said, pulling back. “You had us all very worried. Especially poor Hudson.”
Elliot didn’t know how to respond to that. Instead he said, “I’m very pleased to meet you, Ms. Hale. Hudson has told me a lot about you.”
“All lies I’m sure.” She waved a hand around. “And please, call me Gloria.”
“Gloria,” Elliot repeated.
Taylor studied his face. “I have a thousand questions.”
Elliot looked at her. Then at Gloria. Then back at Taylor. “The resemblance to Hudson is uncanny,” he said.
Taylor beamed. “Is that a compliment?”
“More like an observation.”
“I’ll take it as a compliment.” She fell into step beside him as Gloria steered them gently toward a less crowded section of the hall. “So. First question….”
“Taylor,” Gloria said.
“Shush, Mom. This is important.” She turned back to Elliot. “Did you know? Before he did?”
“Know what?”
“That he was mad for you. Did you clock it first?”
Elliot considered this for a moment. “Yes.”
Taylor grinned. “Uh, I’m sure he hated that. How long before?”
“A while.”
“How long is a while?”
“Okay. I’ll get us some coffees,” Gloria said, very tactically withdrawing from whatever this was. She shot Elliot a brief, apologetic look and then she was gone.
Taylor was already onto her next question, talking so fast Elliot’s ears made this—by now familiar—whooshing sound.
But here he was, in the middle of JFK arrivals, being talked to by a woman who shared Hudson’s eyes and his complete disregard for conversational pacing and found, to his own mild surprise, that he liked it.
He was mid-answer when Taylor’s eyes went past his shoulder.
“Oh,” she said, softly. Entirely unlike her previous register.
Elliot turned.
Hudson came through the arrivals doors with his bag slung over one shoulder, still in uniform, scanning the hall with obvious military precision. Elliot watched him search, left to right, right to left. When Hudson’s eyes found him he came to a halt.
Elliot’s heart skipped a beat like it had been doing regularly since Selection. And would most likely never stop doing.
He looked tired. Six-months-of-deployment tired. It lived behind the eyes and in the set of the shoulders, and was not the kind that sleep could fix. He’d lost some weight and his hair was blonder than usual.
He was the best thing Elliot had seen in his entire life.
Elliot crossed the hall and Hudson met him halfway. They threw their arms around each other. Hudson pressed his face into Elliot’s neck and breathed him in.
“Hey,” Elliot said into his hair.
“Hi.”
Hudson leaned back far enough to study his face. His hand came up to the side of Elliot’s face—the right side, where the bruising had been—and his thumb moved once across his cheekbone.
“You look good,” Hudson said, leaning in to kiss him. Right there in the middle of the arrivals hall. Elliot didn’t care who was watching. “God, I missed you.”
“I know,” Elliot said. “I missed you too.”
Elliot had spent the majority of the last four months thinking about Hudson.
He hated not being able to see him, but there had been something almost therapeutic about the distance.
He’d spent so many years denying himself anything real.
Suppressed everything that didn’t fit into his father’s objectives.
Tried so damn hard not to want anything or anyone.
But these last four months had made him realize that no matter how hard he tried, he would never not want Hudson. He loved him. Really fucking loved him. And nothing else mattered. Not his father and especially not the military that he had already given so much. Almost his life.
No more.
From behind him, Taylor said, “Okay that was very cute. Time’s up.”
Hudson stepped back and caught her just as she lunged into his arms. She clung to his neck for so long Elliot felt he was intruding.
He saw Taylor whisper something in Hudson’s ear that made him grin.
His eyes found Elliot’s over her shoulder.
The expression on his face was going to require some privacy to address properly.
“What did she say?” Elliot asked, when Hudson was back beside him.
He smirked. “Hot. Dry humor. I approve.”
Elliot snorted.
“Gotta agree with her. Those are your best assets." Hudson wrapped his arm around Elliot and let his hand drop to his ass.
“You’re a dumbass,” Elliot said and kissed his temple.
They waited for his luggage while Gloria and Taylor went to get the car. The baggage carousel was loud. Elliot tracked it, managed it and kept his breathing even.
Hudson gazed at him. “You’re all right?”
Elliot gave the smallest nod of his head. “Yes.”
He didn’t look convinced. They hadn’t really had a chance to talk about Elliot’s recovery. He needed to tell Hudson about the, most likely, permanent damage to his hearing. About how things like airports and baggage carousels tested his boundaries. But now was not the time.
Hudson pulled his bag off the conveyor belt and they headed toward the exit together.
Elliot almost missed the departure board in his peripheral, but something made him pause. London. Paris. Amsterdam. Lyon.
He stopped.
Hudson took two steps before he noticed. “What?”
Elliot studied the board. Lyon Saint-Exupéry. Departure 07:45.
“How flexible is your leave?” Elliot said.
Hudson followed his gaze to the board. “Well, it's basically three months of no plans. Why?”
“I was thinking.” Elliot watched the destination scroll past and then scroll back. “We could take a trip. At some point. If you want.”
“A trip where?”
Elliot turned toward him. “France. I know somewhere we could stay.”