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For a moment, I can only stare at him, my breath caught in my throat. The sincerity in his eyes is undeniable, and I find myself overwhelmed by the flood of emotions his words unleash within me.
“Are you sure?” I manage to choke out, my voice trembling with vulnerability. “I mean…what’s special about me?”
“I don’t know,” Hudson replies without hesitation, his eyes never leaving mine. “But, I just feel this pull toward you. Do I really need any other explanation?”
The room feels charged, full of unspoken promises laced with temptation.
“Harper,” he whispers, his voice low and husky. He leans closer, his warm breath tickling my cheek, until his lips brush against my skin in a tender kiss that leaves me craving more. My heart races, my pulse quickening as anticipation churns within me.
“Unfortunately, I need to get ready for work,” Hudson says, glancing at the clock on the wall. “But I’ll be back later tonight to see how you’re doing, alright?”
“Okay.” I nod, feeling a twinge of disappointment but also admiring his dedication to his responsibilities. It’s just another reason I’m drawn to him.
“Take care, Harper,” he says, giving my hand one last squeeze before releasing it. As he heads toward the door, I can’t help but watch him, my gaze lingering on the broad expanse of his shoulders, the way his muscles flex beneath his shirt.
“See you later,” I whisper, anticipation already building for his return.
With one last lingering look, he turns to leave the room, the door closing softly behind him. The silence left in his wake is deafening, and all at once, I’m alone with my thoughts.
My heart races as I replay our conversation in my head, his words weaving through my mind. His concern, his playful banter, the way his touch made me feel alive—everything about him sets me aflame. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this way, and it frightens me.
My fingers trace the apple of my cheek, still tingling from his kiss. I can only imagine how nice it’d feel for him to kiss me, really kiss me. The longing inside me swells, filling every corner of my being. My resolve wavers, and I know deep down that resisting him will be like trying to hold back the tide.
A small smile forms on my lips as I imagine what it would be like to have Hudson by my side, not just during this time of uncertainty, but in the future as well. Would he stand strong beside me as we face the challenges life throws our way? Or would the fire between us burn out as quickly as it was ignited?
I close my eyes, allowing myself to indulge in the fantasy for just a moment longer. The image of his piercing gaze locked onto mine, his hands caressing my skin, does things to me.
The silence of the room settles around me like a comforting blanket, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions churning inside. The sun is starting its descent outside my window, casting long shadows across the hospital floor. Tomorrow, they’ll be discharging me, sending me back into the real world.
“Tomorrow’s a new day,” I whisper to myself, trying to muster up some optimism. My heart races with anticipation, a mix of excitement and fear coursing through my veins.
With a sigh, I close my eyes, allowing myself to drift into a fitful sleep.
3
ANTONIO
The smell of burnt wood and charred sugar lingers in the air as I snap photos of the bakery wreckage. The devastation caused by the fire is tremendous, and nothing is recognizable. So many memories, gone. The sight of the twisted metal beams and shattered glass is a stark contrast to what was once a warm and inviting sanctuary.
“Such a shame,” Benedict comments, standing next to me in his firefighter uniform. His face is screwed up in absolute dismay, as if this has happened to him. He’s always been such an empath. “This was one of our favorite spots.”
That’s more true for him than for me, considering I’ve only been to this spot a time or two. But Benedict brought home baked goods from here often, although I’m pretty sure that was because he constantly wanted to flirt with the shop owner.
Not that it seemed to go anywhere.
I nod, unable to tear my eyes away from the crumbling brick walls and blackened countertops that once housed the most delicious pastries we’d ever tasted. A pang of guilt washes over me as I think of Harper, the owner. Her passion for baking was evident in every crumb, every swirl of icing. She didn’t deserve this.
But, sometimes that’s just life.
“The whole thing is just so strange,” I comment as I move over to the oven, said to be the source of the fire, and opening it up. “I mean, there’s nothing in the oven.”
“Okay…?” Benedict raises an eyebrow.
“So, how did the oven start the fire?”
“You think there was another source?”
I shrug. “Maybe she needed the insurance money.”
