Chapter 28
Hudson stared into the paper cup as if it might become coffee if he looked at it long enough.
Beside him, the vending machine spluttered into silence. Wyatt sipped and bared his teeth. “Jesus.” He shook his head. “Coffee’s shit.”
Hudson lifted his own cup. “Can confirm.”
Somewhere down the hall, a nurse laughed, tired and human, but the sound went nowhere near either of them.
“The file. You backed it up?”
“Yes.” Hudson stared at the black liquid in his cup. “They would’ve known that. But there was a notebook. I think that’s what they wanted.”
Wyatt studied him for a long moment. “You have feelings for her?”
Hudson held the cup between both hands. The coffee had stopped burning. He wished it hadn’t. His thumb tightened until the paper cup buckled.
Wyatt huffed a quiet breath. “Fifteen years is a long time.”
“I was young and stupid.”
“Yeah.” Wyatt didn’t look away. “She stopped riding for weeks.”
Hudson didn’t move.
“Wouldn’t even come near the stables.”
That was the blade. Hudson stared at a hand hygiene poster without seeing a word of it.
He’d never let himself picture the aftermath. Wyatt knowing. Sophie wondering why her daughter had stopped riding. He’d always stopped the memory at the point where he drove away.
“We were kids.”
“You knew you were leaving,” Wyatt said. “She didn’t.”
Hudson could have defended himself. But nothing would change how he’d left her to deal with the aftermath alone.
Hudson took another sip and let it punish him on the way down.
Wyatt shifted beside him, shoulder against the wall now, arms folded. “You saved her life tonight.”
Hudson closed his eyes for a second. “I was the one who put her in their path.”
“Maybe. Still saved her.” Wyatt’s eyes narrowed. “Doesn’t mean I’m not pissed at you.”
A rough breath left Hudson. “Fair.”
“I’m not trying to be fair.”
“No.”
Wyatt looked back toward Sarah’s room. “Whatever this is, it’s already touching her.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Hudson turned his head.
Wyatt’s face had gone still. Hudson remembered that look from operations, when everything depended on the next ten seconds and the wrong answer got people killed.
This wasn’t war. It felt more dangerous.
“Yes,” Hudson said. “I’ll find them before they get another chance.”
“Good.” One word. Hard enough to level ground.
Hudson looked away first.
Fuck.
Wyatt pushed off the wall. “Doctor says they’re keeping her overnight for observation. Mom’s going to argue with that like it’s negotiable, then go home because Sarah will be annoyed if she doesn’t. I’ll take her.”
“Sure.”
Wyatt took two steps, then stopped. “Don’t let her wake up alone.”
Hudson didn’t answer right away. Finally, he said, “I won’t.”
Wyatt held his gaze for a beat, then left.
Hudson stood alone by the coffee machine with a paper cup cooling in his hand and an old wound opening back up inside him. He hadn’t wanted anyone to see what it had taken out of him. Wyatt had seen anyway.
By the time he returned, Sophie was standing near the bed with her coat clutched in one hand, her other palm resting on Sarah’s blanket-covered leg.
Sarah was asleep.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He didn’t know if he meant tonight, fifteen years ago, or all of it.
Sophie’s hand smoothed once over Sarah’s blanket before she looked back at him. “Thank you for staying.”
He nodded. Fuck.
Wyatt appeared at the door. “Walter’s arranging a deputy for her door.”
Sophie kissed her daughter’s forehead and whispered something Hudson didn’t hear. Sarah didn’t wake, but her fingers moved against the blanket.
Wyatt paused beside the bed. His hand came down lightly on Sarah’s shoulder. “Sleep,” he said. “That’s an order.”
Sarah made a faint sound that could have been defiance if she had more energy.
Wyatt’s mouth tilted. Then he looked at Hudson.
Expectation.
Wyatt handed him a set of keys. “My car for tomorrow. I’ll drive Mom home in her truck.”
Hudson gave a single nod.
Wyatt and Sophie left. Hudson dragged a chair closer to the bed.
Sarah’s hair was loose, darker where it fell against the pillow, a few strands caught near the tape at her temple.
The cut looked smaller now it had been cleaned, but the bruising had gathered color along her cheekbone.
One hand lay outside the blanket, fingers curled, her nails short and clean, a faint scrape along one knuckle.
He stared at that scrape longer than he should have. It was easier than looking at her face.
If he looked at her face, he saw the truck on its side. The blood sliding across her skin. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped hard enough that his forearms ached.
This case had found her.
No.
That was too easy. He exhaled a shaky breath. He had brought it to her door.
Sarah stirred. Her breath hitched, shallow and uneven, and her brows drew together in sleep. She murmured something unintelligible.
Hudson straightened, one hand hovering over her shoulder. Waking her might make the headache worse. Besides, she deserved sleep more than she deserved another conversation with him.
He brushed a strand of hair away from the tape above her temple, his thumb lingering before he made himself pull away.
He’d walked back into her life. Six days later, someone had tried to kill her because of him.
He’d finish this before it touched her again.