Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
KATE
The house feels strangely quiet after Lukas leaves.
Not exactly empty, because Hudson is upstairs somewhere and the television is still murmuring faintly through the wall from where he left it on earlier, but different. Charged somehow. As though the air he occupied hasn’t quite settled yet.
I close the front door slowly, leaning back against it for a second as I let out a long, slow breath.
God. This feels dangerous.
Not because of the age gap or the hockey or the fact that he looks unfairly good in basically every situation imaginable. Not even because sleeping with him blurred the lines I’d spent years carefully rebuilding around myself.
It’s dangerous because I’m starting to care. And that changes everything.
I push away from the door and walk through the hallway, my fingertips brushing absently along the wall as I move.
My body still feels warm from him. From the way he kissed me goodbye, I’m sure he didn’t want to leave.
If I’m honest, I didn’t want him to either, but inviting him to stay the night so soon feels a little out of place.
No one has kissed me like that in a very long time. Not out of habit or expectation or routine, but like it mattered.
Upstairs, a floorboard creaks, and I glance automatically toward the ceiling. Hudson is probably getting ready for bed now, headphones on and half-paying attention to whatever game he’s watching on YouTube. The thought grounds me slightly, because this isn’t just about me. It never can be.
That’s the part I keep circling back to, no matter how hard Lukas makes it to think straight.
I’m not twenty-five with endless freedom and no consequences waiting at home.
I’m thirty-five years old with a mortgage, a son, and a life that has been carefully structured around stability for a very long time.
And yet tonight, standing in the hallway with Lukas looking at me like I was something precious, I forgot every reason I’m supposed to be cautious.
I head into the kitchen mostly because I need something to do. The coffee cups from earlier are still sitting beside the sink, and I pick them up absently, rinsing them out while my thoughts drift straight back to him anyway.
To the lake.
To Hudson, laughing.
And Lukas, walking slightly behind us at one point, listening to us argue over whether pineapple belongs on pizza with this gentle expression on his face, like he enjoyed watching us together.
Like he fit there.
My heart clenches unexpectedly, and that’s new, too. Not just wanting him near me, but wanting him near Hudson. Wanting those two parts of my life to exist in the same space.
I dry my hands slowly on a tea towel and stare out into the dark garden through the kitchen window, my reflection faint against the glass. For years, my world has been small on purpose. Safe.
Work. Hudson. Emma. Routine.
After Daniel left, I stopped expecting more than that. At first, because I was too devastated to imagine it, and later, because it just became easier not to want things. Easier not to risk needing someone.
People always talk about heartbreak like it’s dramatic, loud and obvious, but mine wasn’t. It was quieter than that. I had to pull myself together quickly in the weeks after Daniel walked out. I had Hudson to take care of.
Daniel didn’t announce he was leaving. He just went out to work and never came back. Not that day or any day after. He just disappeared. There was nothing left for me or Hudson to reach anymore. One day, he was my husband, and the next, he was gone.
Hudson was four years old.
I swallow hard against the familiar ache that still sits somewhere deep inside me after all this time. The worst part wasn’t even losing him; it was what it did to Hudson. The confusion and the waiting.
The way my little boy used to sit by the window some evenings, asking if Daddy was coming home today.
I think that’s when I stopped being a woman first and became somebody’s mother entirely. Everything after that was survival, routine, and making sure Hudson never felt abandoned again.
There was no room left for me after that. Not really.
Until now.
And that thought alone is enough to make panic flicker briefly in my chest. Because what if I’m getting this wrong? What if I’m letting someone in too quickly because Lukas makes me feel things I buried years ago?
What if Hudson gets attached and it all falls apart?
“Mum?”
I jump at Hudson’s voice, turning to find him standing in the kitchen doorway in joggers and a hoodie, damp hair curling slightly at the edges from his shower.
“You scared me,” I fluster, pressing a hand to my chest.
“Sorry.” His eyes narrow slightly as he studies me. “Why are you standing in the dark like a serial killer?”
I blink, then glance toward the unlit kitchen around me. Right. I laugh despite myself and reach for the light switch. “I was thinking.”
“That’s never good.”
“Cheeky.”
Hudson grins as he moves towards the fridge. He seems more relaxed than normal tonight. Looser around the edges. I notice it immediately.
“You had fun tonight,” I ask.
He shrugs, but it’s unconvincing. “It was alright.”
“Mm-hm.”
“What?” he asks defensively, grabbing a bottle of water.
“Nothing.”
His eyes flick toward the hallway briefly before returning to me. “He’s okay.”
I try very hard not to look too interested. “You don’t have to form an official opinion immediately, you know.”
“I know.” He twists the cap off his water bottle. “I mean…” He hesitates slightly, which immediately gets my attention because Hudson rarely hesitates unless he actually cares about what he’s saying.
“He talks to me normally.”
The words land harder than he probably realises. I lean back lightly against the counter. “What does that mean?”
Hudson shrugs awkwardly. “Most adults try too hard. They either act like I’m five or they act weird because they know about Dad.” He takes a sip of water before adding quietly, “Lukas doesn’t.”
Emotion catches me so suddenly, I have to look away. Because God, that matters. More than Lukas probably even knows.
Hudson studies me carefully, too perceptive for his own good. “You really like him, don’t you?”
The question catches me off guard enough that I laugh under my breath. There was a time when I would have denied it automatically. Deflected and changed the subject, but I’m tired of pretending.
So instead, I answer honestly. “Yeah,” I admit. “I think I do.”
Hudson goes strangely still for a second, processing that. Then he nods, slow and thoughtful. “Okay.”
“That’s it?” I ask, surprised.
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. Something dramatic, maybe.”
“You’d cry.”
“True.”
That earns me the faintest smirk from him before his expression shifts again. “You deserve to be happy too, Mum.”
I think I actually stop breathing for a second. Because I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me so plainly before. Not even me. Not even Emma.
Hudson looks uncomfortable with the sincerity of what just came out of his mouth and immediately ruins the moment by adding, “Also, he bought me mozzarella sticks. You never let me order extra sides.”
I laugh helplessly, emotion still lodged painfully behind my ribs. “Ah. So you can be bribed.”
“Depends on the food.”
Hudson heads back toward the doorway before pausing halfway through it. “Don’t let him hurt you, okay?”
There it is, the protectiveness. The fear underneath all the cautious curiosity. And suddenly I understand something important. This isn’t just hard for me. Hudson remembers what it looked like when loving someone went wrong.
“I won’t,” I promise.
He nods like he wants to believe me, then disappears upstairs again.
The house settles back into quiet then, but it feels different now, lighter maybe. I stand there for another minute before finally grabbing my phone from the counter. There’s already a message waiting for me.
Lukas: I think your son likes me now. This is a very important development.
Laughter escapes me instantly.
Kate: Don’t get overconfident. You’re still being evaluated.
The typing bubble appears almost immediately.
Lukas: Ah yes. The tiny bodyguard.
Warmth spreads through my chest so quickly it almost startles me. And not because he’s flirting or even because he’s being unintentionally funny, it’s because he notices Hudson. Pays attention to him naturally instead of treating him like an obstacle standing between us.
That’s the part that’s undoing me.
Another message appears.
Lukas: Also, for the record, you looked beautiful tonight.
I stare at the screen longer than necessary, my heart turning over painfully in my chest.
For years, I stopped seeing myself as someone women like Emma would describe that way. I was Mum. Reliable and responsible, maybe a little tired, but not beautiful and certainly not wanted like this.
And somehow Lukas looks at me like none of the damage matters. As though I’m still allowed to have a future. My throat tightens unexpectedly as I type back.
Kate: You’re very distracting, do you know that?
Lukas: Good. I’m trying very hard to romance you.
I laugh again, shaking my head as heat rushes into my cheeks.
And standing alone in my kitchen long after midnight, I finally let myself acknowledge the truth I’ve been carefully avoiding for weeks now. I’m falling for him.
Fast.