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Peyton scoffed. “Yeah. Andfuckthat guy.”
Hudson bit the inside of his cheek, then turned the phone to face Peyton. “His name is Austin. He lives on the north side of the city—we both used to. We sold our house and split the cash, and I think he bought a condo in our old neighborhood while I moved across the city.”
Peyton’s face was unreadable apart from his wide eyes which looked full of something. Hurt, maybe? Fear? He glanced up at Hudson. “He’syour…”
“Yeah.ThatAustin is my ex. We were married for two years before I collapsed in the shower. He lasted three years with me in my recovery, but when the doctors told me that this was about the best I was going to get, he cheated on me. Then he cried and told me he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to be with a man who couldn’t fuck him the way he wanted to be fucked.” Hudson turned the phone back toward himself and stared down at the photo. They were both younger then, though Hudson could see his unhappiness even back then, before he knew anything was wrong. They were on a boat, and Austin was smiling like he had the world cupped in his hands, and Hudson looked…
Well, he just looked tired. For a long time, he hadn’t realized just how demanding Austin was. How expensive and time consuming, and how he never let Hudson take priority in their marriage. Ever. Even when he got sick.
“I didn’t know,” Peyton whispered. “I swear I didn’t know it was the same guy.”
Hudson set the phone down on the table, then looked back over at his new friend. “Peyton, I know you didn’t. And I don’t know if he’s changed, so I’m not going to be some posturing dickhead and tell you to stay away from him. But I do think you should be careful.”
Peyton shifted uncomfortably. “When we started talking, he made me feel sexy. I wasn’t sure I could, you know, feel that way again? I mean, logically I knew I’d get used to the changes, but yeah.” He pulled his hair tie out and let his hair flop over his shoulders—thick and curly from the bun—before twisting it back up again. “Our first date sucked, but he promised me he’d make the second one better.”
“And then he kissed you on the forehead,” Hudson said.
Peyton laughed, rolling his eyes as he flopped backward. That position left his shirt tight over his stomach, and Hudson could just make out the shape of his bag, but he didn’t let himself stare at it. “I actually like forehead kisses. I mean, call me whatever you want, but I like them. I like cuddling and being sweet. But I also like fucking. I used to like getting fucked, and I wanted to find a way to feel like that again, you know?”
“Yes,” Hudson said, meeting Peyton’s gaze. “I do.”
“Yeah.” Peyton rubbed at his eyes. “I’m sorry for coming over and getting my feelings all over your couch.”
Hudson couldn’t stop the smallest laugh. “I invited you. And you brought brownies.”
“The one thing I’m really good at, apparently.”
Hudson wanted to argue, but it felt unfair to Peyton’s obvious need to wallow. Hudson knew what that was like too, and he understood that sometimes people needed a moment to just feel sorry for themselves.
“Well, if it helps, I think he’s still an asshole. Like a total and complete asshole, and…” Hudson’s words cut off when his phone began go buzz, and he didn’t need to look down to know who it was. Shit. Fucking shit.
“That’s him, isn’t it?” Peyton asked quietly.
Hudson pursed his lips. “Probably, yeah. But he doesn’t want me back if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Are you serious?” Peyton snapped, sounding genuinely angry. “Even if the date had been amazing, you seriously think I’d go out with him again? You think I’d care about any of that after what he did to you?”
Hudson shrugged, giving his honest answer. “You barely know me, Peyton.”
“You could be a literal stranger on the street and I wouldn’t—” he stopped abruptly and took a breath. “I get that you don’t know me very well, either. But you will, and someday you’re going to feel like a real jackass for thinking I would date a man like that after what he did.”
Hudson tried to ignore the warmth in his chest as he tossed his phone onto the table. “I don’t give a fuck about him either. By the time the divorce was final, all that was left was apathy and some trauma. Part of me wishes that I could care how he feels, only to prove that I’d once had any feelings for him at all, but I don’t. He can live, he can die. He can be a failure or a success. I honestly don’t care.”
Peyton said nothing for a long while. “But we’re good?”
“We’re good.” Hudson started to settle back down, then leaned forward to grab the brownies again, stuffing one into his mouth. “You should call them Hudson’s Heaven.”
Peyton laughed. “And you shouldn’t quit your day job. You’re not great at naming things.”
“No, but I am good at listening,” he said thickly, swallowing through chocolate. He turned his head to look at Peyton. “You’ll find that feeling again, you know. That power over yourself, and your body, and your sexuality. It might not come in the form you expect, but it will.”
“It happened for you?” Peyton asked.
Not for the first time, he considered telling Peyton about his company, but right then he didn’t want the questions. He just wanted to be there—as a man, and a friend—for his neighbor. He wanted to see Peyton smile more, and avoid thinking about the warm, wanting feeling in the pit of his gut because he knew it was more than just friendship. But he was terrified.
“It did,” he said eventually. “And a guy like you? I doubt you’ll have to wait long.”
Hudson wasn’t entirely sure, but in that moment, he thought he might have caught a faint blush dusting Peyton’s cheeks. God help him, but that made him want even more.
