“I was trying to help. Give him a little push.”
He nodded slowly. “Right.”
“He panicked. That’s what this is.”
“It’s okay. He’s right.” Hudson’s voice came out even, which took some effort. “We’re not a couple.”
“I don’t know, man.” Reed eyed him with more compassion than Hudson had the stomach for right now. “It kinda seemed like it.”
“It’s fine.” Hudson picked up his beer.
“It’s really not fine, you look?—”
“Reed.”
Reed stopped.
Hudson took a long sip. “Tell me more about Mae.”
An hour later Hudson knew everything about Mae’s diapers, the gory details of her birth, the difference between a hungry cry and a tired one.
When Reed got up to catch the train back, he pulled Hudson into a hug and held him there for a moment. “Be safe, okay?”
“Always.” Hudson patted his shoulder. “Say hi to the girls for me.”
When Reed turned to leave, Hudson headed to the bar.
The bartender looked up when she saw him coming and smiled like she’d been expecting him back.
Hudson leaned onto the bar and smiled back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
HUDSON
Six years after Selection
The helicopter had takenfire over Kandahar at 0600 on a Monday, which Hudson thought was a pretty shitty way to start the week.
The RPG didn't hit them directly—just close enough that shrapnel tore through the tail rotor and sent them into a spin that Hudson was about seventy percent sure was going to kill them all. He'd managed to get them down in one piece, more or less, which his co-pilot said was either incredible skill or dumb luck.
Hudson figured it was a little bit of both.
He broke his left wrist, cracked two ribs, and scored a concussion that made the medics nervous enough to ship him stateside. Which was how he’d ended up in a military hospital in Germany, then back in the States, and finally in Taylor’s guest room in Brooklyn with his arm in a cast and strict orders to “take it easy." Whatever that meant.
"You look like shit," Taylor said, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.
"Love you too."
"I'm serious. When's the last time you slept?"
Hudson shrugged with his good shoulder. "Tuesday?"
"It's Friday."
"Then Tuesday."
Taylor sighed and sat on the bed. She seemed older than he remembered, more settled. Her hair was shorter, pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore scrubs from the hospital where she worked as a pediatric nurse.
