Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Trust that I will be okay and not just because Hudson is behind me, but because I know in my heart, I’ll be safe.
“Fine. I’ll do it.” The words come out quickly, despite my uncertainty.
I don’t want to change my mind.
I need to do this. So I do. I take a step up, then another, and another until I’m at the top.
Once on solid ground, I stop short, surprised by what I find.
The space is unexpectedly charming, with sunlight pouring in through a large arched window.
It feels like we are in another country. It’s magical.
He really pulled out all the stops.
In the center, Hudson has set up a blanket, and on top of it sits two Mason jars filled with pale yellow lemonade. There is also some wrapped bundle that I have to assume is food.
He steps up behind me, his larger-than-life presence filling the small space.
“Fancy,” I say, turning over my shoulder to look at him.
Hudson shrugs, grinning like this is no big deal. “Hey, I have standards.” He leads me to the blanket, then drops down and pats the spot beside him for me to sit.
I hesitate.
But finally, I lower myself beside him, legs folded awkwardly beneath me.
He unwraps the bundle, revealing slices of red apple and a handful of sugar cubes nestled in a cloth.
“Snacks for the horses?” I shoot him a sideways glance.
“And us.” He pops a sugar cube into his mouth like it’s a piece of candy.
“You can’t be serious. You want me to eat raw sugar?”
“Yeah, what of it?” he says, holding a sugar cube out to me. “You know you want to.”
I hesitate, narrowing my eyes at him.
He’s a pain. He’s fully aware I won’t back down when he words it like that. I pluck it from his hand, the tips of my fingers brushing his.
It’s a small thing, that touch, but it lingers more than it should.
I place the cube on my tongue, my brows furrowing as it dissolves. It’s sweet.
Very sweet, but it makes me feel giddy. Must be having a sugar high.
“See?” Hudson says, his grin widening. “Not so bad.”
“Not bad,” I admit.
We fall into a comfortable silence, sharing the slices of apple.
I glance at Hudson out of the corner of my eye. The sunlight catches on his face. He’s beautiful.
Something about him makes me ache in a way I don’t want to name.
How does he do it?
How does he do this to me?
For a second, my heart races, but then I take a breath.
It’s funny. I would never expect Hudson to be so comfortable here. I wonder if he misses Redville. Or is this enough?
“You ever get tired of this?” I ask suddenly, the words spilling out before I can stop them.
Hudson blinks, turning to look at me. “Of what?”
“This.” I gesture broadly at the barn. “The quiet, the farm . . . everything.”
“Never,” he says without a second’s hesitation, leaning back on his hands. “It’s home.”
The word hits me hard, and it’s difficult to keep steady. Home. The word feels foreign. I drop my gaze to my hands, the weight of the word pressing into me.
I’ve never had that. Not really. Home isn’t a place for me. It’s just . . . somewhere I end up. That’s not true. I have Dane.
Had.
He now has Josie.
Must be nice.
Where does that leave me?
But for a second, I allow myself to believe—just a little—that maybe I could have this.
Hours later, Mason jars still in hand, Hudson shows me the rest of the property. Eventually, we stop to sit down and drink our lemonade.
“Pretty great, right?” he says, tilting his chin toward the horizon. The sun is currently a beautiful shade of pink as it dips low into the sky.
I smile faintly and let my eyes follow his. The fields stretch endlessly. It’s green as far as the eye can see.
“It’s beautiful.” I sigh.
It really is beautiful. Too beautiful, maybe.
Like something out of a dream I would never let myself have.
We fall into silence—not awkward, not tense, just quiet.
Everything about this moment is perfect.
The way the air smells of wildflowers to the soft breeze in the air that tugs at the loose strands of my hair.
Hudson’s hand reaches out and tucks the piece behind my ear, and when he does, I let him.
I love being here with him.
It feels right.
“Do you miss this?” I gesture around us, making it clear I’m talking about the farm.
Hudson takes a deep breath before looking out over the fields.
“Every day,” he admits on a sigh. “But what other choice do I have? Hockey’s the dream, you know? Always has been.” He pauses. “But this . . . this is home.”
There’s that word again.
Home.
And it lands as heavy right now as it did before.
I tighten my grip on the jar. My throat feels tight, and I’m not sure why.