Taylor dropped her keys on the counter and went to the fridge, pulling out two beers. She tossed one to Hudson, then leaned against the counter, arms crossed.
"Okay," she said. "We’re home. We’re warm. Now… spill."
Hudson opened the beer and took a long drink, stalling. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh comeon." Taylor lowered her voice, gentle but firm. "Clearly something's on your mind, and I don't want you to suffer in silence. Being your loving sister and all."
Hudson sat down on the couch, beer in hand. "Really... It's nothing. I'm fine."
"God, you’ve said that more times than I can count."
"Because it's true."
"Is it?" Taylor plopped down in the armchair across from him. "Because you haven’t been your funny, slightly obnoxious self ever since you got home."
Hudson leaned back into the couch cushions and studied a water stain on Taylor's ceiling like it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.
"Is it about someone?" Taylor asked.
He kept quiet, which was apparently answer enough.
"Oh my god, it is." Taylor sat forward, eyes lighting upwith that special brand of sibling nosiness that Hudson had been dealing with his entire life. "Who is she? Do I know her? Is she military?"
Hudson sipped his beer, still not answering. His ears were ringing, like his body knew he was about to step off a cliff and was trying to warn him against it.
"Come on, Huds.” Taylor’s voice softened. “I'm not going to judge. Just tell me who she is."
Hudson opened his mouth. Closed it. Ran a hand through his hair instead, postponing the inevitable.
He could lie. Make up some girl from base, keep it vague, change the subject. Taylor would let it go eventually.
But honestly, he was so fucking tired of not talking about it. A year of keeping it locked down, and for what? They were not at Selection anymore. He would most likely never see Shaw again. The rules didn’t apply anymore.
"It's not—" Hudson stopped, trying to figure out how to do this. His palms were sweating. Jesus Christ, his palms were actually sweating. He’d flown combat missions without this kind of physical response. "There's no she."
The words came out quieter than he meant them to. Almost a mumble.
Taylor leaned in closer. “What?”
He stared at his bottle, picking at the label with his thumbnail. “I said, there’s no she.”
Hudson could practically hear the gears turning in her head. "Okay. So... you're not seeing anyone?"
"No, I—" Hudson ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. He forced himself to meet her eyes. "There was someone. At Selection."
"At Selection," Taylor repeated slowly. "Okay. And this person...?"
Hudson didn't answer, just braced himself for when the penny dropped.
"Huddy." Taylor's voice was gentle now. "Are you telling mesheis ahe?"
Heat crept up the back of Hudson’s neck, but he still wasn’t looking at her. "Well… Yeah."
"Oh." Taylor sat back in her chair, processing. “Okay.”
His head snapped up. “Okay?”
"Yeah." Taylor’s expression was… he couldn’t quite read it. Surprised, maybe. But not disgusted. She nodded slowly. “So… a guy. From Selection.”
