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I look at him hard, and even though he looks familiar, I can’t pinpoint from where. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he reassures me quickly. “I don’t hold it against you. All I care about is that you’re safe now.”
My heart skips a beat at his words, memories of the horrific blaze flooding back in an instant. The smoke, the heat, the desperate cries of my children—all of it threatens to overwhelm me once more. I press my hands against my temples, trying to block out the cacophony in my mind.
“Easy there,” Hudson murmurs, reaching out to steady me with a firm but gentle grip on my arm. His touch is warm and reassuring, a lifeline amidst the storm of my thoughts.
“Thank you,” I whisper, forcing myself to meet his gaze. There’s something about those intense blue eyes that makes me feel…safe. As if it’s a fact that he knows, somehow, everything will be okay in the end.
“Of course,” Hudson replies with a smile, but it’s tinged with sadness. He knows better than anyone what I’ve just been through, and I can see that it weighs on him too.
My mind races as I look at this man, trying to ground myself in the whirlwind of fear and confusion. I force my voice to steady, focusing on the most pressing question. “Where are my kids? Are they okay?”
Hudson’s eyes soften; he understands the urgency behind my words. “Yes, they’re fine. Your children were pulled out before you. They’re safe.”
“Did you save them?” I question.
“I did,” he replies, a hint of pride lacing his tone.
“Thank you.” I smile at him.
“It’s my job.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a badge that identifies him as a member of the city’s fire department.
“How long have I been here?” My voice is barely above a whisper, betraying the vulnerability I feel.
“You’ve been unconscious for a couple days,” Hudson explains, his voice like a soothing balm against the raw wounds of uncertainty. “I’ve been visiting you when I can. I didn’t want you to wake up alone. You inhaled a lot of smoke, and some debris fell on you during the fire. The doctors wanted to make sure everything was stable before they brought you out of sedation.”
A shudder runs through me, memories of the burning bakery replaying in my head. “How…how bad was it?”
“Bad enough,” he admits, the haunted look in his eyes indicating he’s seen far too much destruction in his line of work. “I think you’ll have to start over from ground zero.”
I figured as much, but his words make me want to curl up in a ball and cry. It’d taken me years to finally achieve the bakery of my dreams, and one dumb mistake…burned it all down.
“But we managed to get everyone out in time,” Hudson tells me. “That’s what matters.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, my voice laden with the weight of a thousand unspoken emotions.
“Anytime,” he replies with a small smile, his calloused fingers brushing against mine in a fleeting moment of connection. The spark that passes between us is as intense as it is unexpected, leaving me breathless and wanting more.
But this isn’t the time for such thoughts. My kids need me, and there’s a long road ahead before life can even begin to show some semblance of normalcy.
How am I so comfortable with a man I don’t know? For now, I decide not to question it.
“Wait, where are my kids?” I demand suddenly, the urgency of their safety cutting through my foggy thoughts. I know they’re okay, but I don’t have a clue where they are.
Hudson’s face softens with a reassuring smile. “They’re okay, Harper. They’re with your mother while you’ve been here.”
A mixture of relief and concern washes over me. If my mom is taking care of them, that means they must not have been hurt by the fire, but I can only imagine the fear for me that must be gripping their young hearts. The thought tightens a knot in my chest.
Even worse is imagining my mother’s reaction to all this.
“Thank you,” I whisper, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as I blink away the memories. “Thank you for saving us.”
“Hey, it’s what we do,” Hudson replies gently, his gaze never leaving mine. “You don’t have to thank me.”
But I do. The gratitude I feel toward this man—this stranger who risked his own life to pull us from the inferno—is overwhelming, and words alone can’t begin to convey the depth of my emotions. For now, though, that’s all I have.
“Really, thank you. I owe you so much,” I say, my voice choked with emotion. His strong hand reaches out to cover mine, offering silent comfort and support.
