Chapter 4
Under no circumstances was I prepared for that mustache. Sure, it had been my idea, but absolutely nothing prepared me for the reality standing in front of me now.
With his beard gone, Huddy’s jaw was sharp in a way that felt almost unfair—clean lines, strong and deliberate, hiding beneath that rough exterior this whole time.
The mustache only emphasized the planes of his face, bold and unapologetic, turning him from quietly handsome into are you kidding me right now.
Now, I could see the curl to his dark hair, swooping up at the nape of his neck beneath his hat. Even his shoulders looked broader, nothing about him hidden beneath the scraggly facial hair.
When I finally made it up to his bright hazel eyes, they were focused on me, watching me watch him.
“Dangerous?” he said, one brow lifting like he was amused despite himself.
I swallowed, my mouth having gone dry. This was the same Huddy as a few minutes before.
Reliable, rule-following Huddy who drank chocolate milk straight from the carton and thought mayo on burgers was a crime.
Except now he looked like he could ruin lives with a single look, but might apologize for it afterward.
“Yes,” I said. “You look like you either fix motorcycles or solve crimes on the beach at sunset. Maybe both.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, heat flickering in his eyes, and my stomach dipped in response. I couldn’t ignore how close we were standing, or how easy it would be to reach out and test whether that mustache felt as soft as it looked.
I didn’t. Barely.
Instead, I turned toward a rack of sweatshirts nearby, flipping through them with exaggerated interest. Generic sizing was great in theory.
In practice, it usually meant will fit my shoulders or will fit my chest, but rarely both.
Being soft and curvy had its perks, but buying anything off a rack without trying it on was always a gamble—especially when my boobs arrived in a room a full second before the rest of me.
“Tourist chic,” I muttered, holding up a navy crewneck that read CHICAGO in block letters.
Huddy hummed. “Bold.”
“I like to blend in,” I said. “Nothing says local like screaming it across your chest.”
I was still flipping through sizes when he reached over me, stopping my hand. I looked over my shoulder, savoring his warmth at my back.
“Here,” he said.
I turned in time to watch him pull his hoodie over his head.
The hem lifted, just enough to expose a strip of skin and the hard lines of his stomach, and my brain blue-screened.
Yes, I could see the width of his shoulders beneath his hoodie, and I’d guessed he was toned everywhere, but seeing was believing, and boy, was I believer in the abs I’d just seen.
His chest was covered in a light dusting of hair, dark against his skin, and I had to bite my cheeks to keep my tongue from rolling out like a carpet.
By the time my brain rebooted, he was holding the hoodie out to me.
“You don’t have to—” I started.
“I know,” he said, calm and steady. “But you’ve been shivering for hours.”
That did something to me. The quiet kind of care I only accepted from my sister—and even then, reluctantly.
I took it, fingers brushing his for half a second longer than necessary, and pulled it over my head. It swallowed me in the best way—soft, warm, oversized in all the right places. It smelled like him—clean soap and cold air, with a faint trace of pine that felt out of place in the city.
“Better,” he said with a quick nod.
I tugged the sleeves down over my hands. “Won’t you be cold now?”
He shook his head. “No. Cold was kind of a constant growing up. I’m used to it.”
“Well, thank you,” I said as we stepped back outside. The wind still had teeth, but it didn’t cut as badly bundled in his hoodie. I glanced up, noticing the sky had shifted from black to charcoal, the edges of night softening like it was preparing to give way.
Huddy checked his watch, then looked back at me. “We should probably head home.”
The word should lingered between us, heavy and reluctant.
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess time caught up with us.”
He ordered a car without ceremony, phone already in hand.
“Where to?” he asked, passing it to me.
I typed in my new address, a knot forming in my chest as soon as I hit confirm. Finality had a way of sneaking up on me like that.
The car pulled up soon after, not giving me any time to reconsider this.
Inside, the city blurred past the windows, streetlights streaking gold across the glass. The quiet between us felt heavier than any of our confessions all night. Not awkward, but weighted like we were both holding something fragile, unsure where to set it down.
I tugged his hoodie tighter around me, all too aware that this was slipping toward an ending I hadn’t agreed to yet.
I shouldn’t feel like this, I told myself.
I’d known him for hours. Not days. Not weeks. Hours.
He hadn’t promised anything. Hadn’t even tried to push past the edges of tonight. And that was what I’d asked for, right?
Just companionship on a lonely night. Innocent and uncomplicated.
So why did my chest ache like I was about to lose something important?
I glanced over at him. Huddy stared out the window, jaw set, mustache catching the glow of passing lights. Still solid. Still calm. Still not reaching for me.
And maybe that was the problem.
If he’d flirted harder, I could’ve dismissed this as chemistry. If he’d tried to kiss me again, I could’ve chalked it up to attraction. But he hadn’t. Instead, Huddy stayed exactly where he was—present, steady, respectful.
Dangerous in a different way.
I swallowed, my instinct screaming at me to be the one who left first. To step out clean before this turned into something that hurt far worse than I was prepared for. Leaving was easier than being left.
The car slowed, and I frowned, peering out the window.
This wasn’t my street.
Instead, we rolled to a stop beside dark sand and an endless stretch of water, the lake barely visible in the thin, pre-dawn light. The horizon was just beginning to soften, night loosening its grip.
I turned to Huddy, confused. “Uh—this isn’t—”
“I know,” he said. Then, after a beat, “Truth or dare, Daisy?”
My breath caught, the meaning behind his words landing all at once. Not a joke. Not a throwaway line.
A reach.
“Dare,” I said, echoing our very first conversation—back when I’d been the one asking him to stay.
“Watch the sunrise with me,” he said, one hand braced on the doorframe, like he was steadying himself.
I didn’t answer right away.
The silence stretched, my heart pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it. Inside, every alarm bell I had was ringing, trying to get my attention—not because of him, but because of how much I already cared. How easily he’d slipped past my defenses.
He shifted, jaw tightening. “You know what—never mind,” he said, backing off just as quickly as I had. “I’ll take you home. Driver?”
His retreat was careful, protecting me even now, but I hated the sadness on his face more than I hated the idea of how much this would hurt tomorrow.
I grabbed his hand before he could pull away, lacing our fingers together. “I’m not about to lose now.”
His hazel eyes snapped back to mine, surprise flickering across his face. Uncertainty, too. Good. If I was going to be standing on unsteady ground, he could join me.
I scooted closer and reached past him to open the door myself. “Come on.”
He got out first, then turned to help me out, his grip firm but questioning, like he was still waiting for me to change my mind.
But I couldn’t now.
The cold lake air hit my face as my shoes sank into the sand, the sky just beginning to bloom with pale color.
I tightened my fingers around his, anchoring myself to the moment.
The beach was quieter than I expected, the sound of the waves softly lapping against the shore.
The lake stretched in front of us, dark and glassy, the horizon brushed with pale pinks and blues that looked almost unreal.
I knew Lake Michigan was big, but standing here, it felt like an ocean.
I slipped my arm through his, tucking myself closer for warmth. He was only in a short-sleeve shirt now, hands shoved deep into his pockets, but his shoulders were still relaxed like the cold didn’t bother him in the slightest.
“What the heck,” I said, tipping my head back to look at him. “Why aren’t you freezing?”
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. Before I could say anything else, he pulled me in. One arm wrapped around me, solid and sure, holding me against him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
When he rested his chin on the top of my head, I melted. There was no other word for it.
“I played hockey for a very long time.”
“That explains the thighs,” I said, and his chest rumbled with another laugh.
When the wind picked up again, I looped my arms around his waist, fitting against him like I’d always belonged there, my cheek pressed to his chest. He hugged me back, and I tried and failed to remember a time when a hug had felt this grounding. This safe.
We stood like that as the sun broke free of the horizon, light spilling across the water, turning the lake molten gold. A new day, quietly demanding we take notice.
It was both a beginning and an ending, symbolic in a way I didn’t want to acknowledge.
Eventually, we walked back toward my place in silence, fingers laced, shoulders brushing. The lobby was warm and bright compared to the outside, the elevator humming as we waited.
He pulled me in for one last hug, slow and deliberate. When we pulled apart, he brushed a loose strand of hair away from my face, studying me like he was committing me to memory.
“I’m proud of you,” he said. “For being brave. For starting over, even when it’s scary. You’re going to do so many wonderful things, Daisy. I know it.”
My throat tightened, his words soothing every fear I hadn’t even spoken aloud.
“And you, Huddy,” I said, the words tumbling out before I could overthink them. “You are such a good man. It is so easy to care about you.” I swallowed, my eyes burning with tears I refused to let fall. “Just—make sure whatever comes next is what you want. Not just what everyone else needs.”
Something shifted in his expression, like I’d hit a truth he didn’t hear often enough.
He nodded once. Then he stepped back.
The elevator opened, and I got on before I could change my mind. He lifted a hand to wave goodbye, and as quick as the night began, it was over. The doors slid shut, and I began to rise.
With every inch I moved away from him, my breaths came quicker, pulse hammering in my veins.
My hands shook as I pulled my phone out for the first time all night and pulled up my text chain with my sister.
Daisy
Do you believe in soul mates? Because I think I just met mine.
The elevator chimed as I passed the second floor, and I looked at the number 5, glowing on the side panel. I slid the phone back into the pocket of my hoodie, only now realizing it was Huddy’s hoodie, not mine.
“Shit,” I mumbled, then slapped the button for the floor above. My legs bounced as the elevator came to a stop, then the doors opened at a speed fit for a turtle.
The moment they were wide enough to let me through, I sprinted down the hallway, racing to the stairs. I took them two at a time, imagining him waiting in the lobby for me, just as devastated as I was to say goodbye.
By the time I burst back into the lobby, breathless and wild with hope, it was empty.
He was gone.