Chapter 20-Daniela
The smell of bacon and fresh coffee is doing its best to soothe the awkwardness, but let’s be honest—nothing short of a time machine could erase the sexual tension still crackling in the air like leftover static from a thunderstorm between Hudson and me.
I take a cautious bite of the sandwich Koa handed me.
It’s warm and delicious, and I’m almost convinced to relax, until I notice Hudson’s stare fixed on me in the rearview.
Before I can respond or react, Koa opens his mouth.
“You could look a little more grateful, bruh,” he starts.
Hudson glares.
“At least Coach and Luca are in their own truck,” he mutters.
“What—you didn’t think I could fit Great Dane and Luca fucking Warden in here with you lot, did ya?” he jokes, gesturing toward the packed cab of his massive truck.
Three of us fit across the bench. Sorta. Not really. I mean the Jackson boys are enormous, and I’m not small.
But Hudson manages to pull me closer to him so I’m not touching his brother in the least. It’s cute, if a little boorish.
Tank snorts from beside me, answering Koa.
“Honestly, I expected at least one of ‘em to be hanging off the tailgate.”
“Nah. Coach takes that personal bubble of space thing very seriously. Gotta respect a man who’s got respect for boundaries,” he replies with a shrug.
He turns on the AM radio station, then shuts it off quickly. There’s nothing but static up here, anyway.
The brothers chat about the upcoming tourney, and my mind wanders a bit.
It took us all of an hour to clean the cabin top to bottom, pack up the leftovers and nonperishables, and make sure we didn’t leave a single stray sock or spoon behind for Mr. Knight to find.
Professionalism matters.
Even after everything that happened.
Even after we sort of fucked like bunnies all over his cabin.
I clear my throat, suddenly picturing Tank in a pair of bunny ears and silk black thong like a Playgirl model, and I’m trying not to laugh hysterically at the image.
“You alright?” he whispers.
I nod.
I mean, I should be alright. Here we are, heading back down the mountain. The roads are a glistening mess of black ice and slush, and Koa is driving more expertly than I’d have given him credit for.
But I can’t really think at all because my brain is all full of what now questions.
I clutch the coffee cup in my hands and stare out the window as if it’ll offer answers.
“Um,” I clear my throat. “Koa, will you drop me off at my place?”
Hudson stiffens beside me.
I don’t look at him.
“Sure. Sure,” Koa murmurs, shifting smoothly around a bend in the road like this isn’t the most emotionally fraught truck ride in history.
Small talk fills the silence—mostly me and Koa talking about the holiday, the storm, Finley’s panic texting, and whether Mitchell Knight’s beard is real or a topiary.
Hudson stays quiet.
Watchful. His thigh pressed against mine like a heated question I don’t have the answer to.
By the time we roll up to my small townhouse just past that faded old sign that reads Welcome to Consequence, my stomach is a twisted mix of nerves and caffeine.
I open my mouth to say goodbye, maybe thank them for the lift, maybe offer a casual see you at practice, but Hudson beats me to it.
He’s already out of the truck.
He grabs my overnight bag—and his—and walks straight to my front door like he’s been there a hundred times before.
Then he stops.
Turns.
Holds out his hand. “Keys?”
I stare.
“Hudson,” I say slowly, “What am I going to do with you?”
He gives me that crooked grin, the one that sends heat straight to my chest.
“Let me in for starters, Sweetheart. It’s bloody fucking cold out here.”
And just like that, I’m stunned. Speechless.
Because the man is here. With both our bags. On my doorstep. Like he never had any plans of going anywhere else.
Like we’re not done yet.
And maybe he’s got a point.
Maybe I don’t want us to be done yet either.