"Well—" He put the tile down. "It's a guy, Mom."
His mother's hands stilled on the tile bag. Then she set it down, folded her hands on the table, and looked at him.
"Okay," she said.
"I'm bi. I think. I mean, yes. I am."
"Okay," she said again with the same warmth.
Hudson exhaled. "That's it?"
"What did you want me to say?"
"I don't know. Something."
His mother reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. "I love you, Hudson. You're my son. Was there supposed to be more to it than that?"
Hudson swallowed hard. "No. I guess not."
She squeezed his hand and let go. "So. This person."
"Elliot. We were at Selection together."
His mother's expression shifted slightly. "The military Selection program?"
"Yeah."
"Where fraternization was against the rules."
"...Yeah."
She shot him a look. "Hudson James Hale."
"I know."
"That was reckless. You could have been discharged."
"I know, Mom."
"Both of you."
"Jesus. I get it, okay?"
She picked up her tea, took a sip and set it back down. "Tell me about him."
Hudson almost laughed. "He's—" He tried to find the right words for Shaw, which was a problem he'd never successfully solved. "Controlled. Precise. He's French-American, his dad's a General, he's kind of terrifying in the field." He paused. "He's funny. Not on purpose though."
His mother watched him with an expression he recognized and didn't love.
"What?" he said.
"Nothing." She picked up her tea again. "He sounds lovely."
"He's completely infuriating."
"Yes," his mother said. "The good ones usually are."
Taylor came back with the tea, her eyes moving between them. “What did I miss?”
