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Julius looked at him like he was insane.
“I’m dead serious,” Hudson went on. “You haven’t slept. You got shot at yesterday. You’re not going to make it much longer if you don’t take care of yourself.”
“But—”
“I’ll send Noah flowers. The rest can wait.”
Julius opened his mouth, then closed it.
“Go take a bath. We’ve got a fancy-ass bathtub that we never use.”
Julius took in a deep breath in, exhaled, and then leaned forward and kissed Hudson.
“Thank you,” he said, disappearing into the bedroom.
Hudson half-smiled, watching him go.
Give him fifteen minutes and then join him, he thought.
He knew exactly how to get the tension out of Julius.
As Hudson got out stuff for breakfast-in-bath, he smiled to himself, thinking of the delicious things he was about to do to his mate.
But then, just as the pan was heating on the stove, the doorbell rang.
Hudson rolled his eyes, turned the stove off, and went to go see what the UPS guy had brought. Hopefully it was that new tailpipe for the Harley he was customizing for one of the lions.
Instead, he opened the door to a bored-looking young woman in a polo shirt and khakis.
“Are you Julius Bloom and or Hudson Trager?” she asked, reading from a form on a clipboard.
“I’m just Hudson Trager,” he said.
“Please sign here,” she went on in the same monotone. “You’ve been served. Have a nice day.”
She retreated back down the porch steps, then got into her car and drove away.
Hudson stared down at the envelope in his hands.
It was a fucking subpoena.
He stomped back into the house, all the thoughts of getting some alone time with Julius ruined. He tossed it angrily onto the kitchen counter, clutching the granite surface in both hands, trying to fight down his rage.
Why can’t people just leave us alone?he thought.
We should just move out into the woods, like Kade and Daniel. I bet they never deal with this bullshit.
The bedroom door swung open and Julius stood there, a towel around his waist, dripping onto the hardwood floor. His phone was in one hand.
I should have made him leave the damn thing with me,Hudson thought, looking at it.
“The Taylors are suing us,” he said, his voice tight with rage. He looked like he might snap the phone in half. “Me for spraining their daughter’s wrist, and both of us for the emotional damages from that bitch watching us kiss when I realized you weren’t dead.”
Everything in front of Hudson’s eyes went red in a flash and he squeezed the countertop even harder. He wanted to sweep everything off of the counter — plates, eggs, mugs — then take the pots off the stove and throw them around the kitchen until everything in the place was good and broken.
Ten years ago, that’s exactly what he would have done.
Instead, he took a deep breath and envisioned his lungs as a balloon, expanding and deflating as he breathed. It was a trick his therapist had taught him a long time ago, a trick that allowed him to live in polite society instead of as a nearly-feral shifter who’d get in a fight over any little thing.
