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Page 58 of All the Beautiful Things

Between games, I ran down to my place and grabbed my books and computer so I could get some studying in for finals, but the only thing I studied was the cut of Hudson’s jaw, the scrape of his scruff against my thighs when he went down on me and the strength of his back and backside when he took me in other ways.

We showered more than once, worked up a voracious dinner appetite that required more pizza and chicken wings.

It was the best day I could ever remember having. Where he talked about his mom some, and what life was really like with some of the kids who came into his home, the lives they had left. Some worse than Brandon’s own story, some so similar to mine except with fathers or mothers who didn’t care enough to leave marks in unseen places.

At night, when the games were done and I’d long since given up on studying, we crawled into his bed where he turned a movie on Netflix that neither of us paid much attention to.

Me, because I was sore and exhausted from the rigorous weekend.

Hudson languidly stroked his fingers down my arm where he’d draped them over my shoulders, my head to his chest, listening to the rhythmic thump of his heart. He’d gone silent, tense against me and perhaps he was also worn out, which brought me great satisfaction at the thought.

I sensed it was more.

“It was a great weekend,” I said, curling my fingers against his chest.

“It was.”

He kissed my temple and a flutter stroked in my stomach from it.

His gentle touches and his tender kisses turned me to butter in a breath.

“What happens tomorrow?”

His chest rose and fell with a heavy, shaky breath, proving my thoughts were correct. He wasn’t rested.

He was worried.

“My dad will start treatments this week. Wednesday.”

I stilled my hand over the center of his chest, where his strong beat thrummed beneath my palm.

“You’re worried.”

He blew out a ragged breath and I pushed off him enough so I could see his face. Those features of his that had been relaxed or heated and showed nothing but desire and love all day were now ragged and weary.

“Shouldn’t I be?”

There was no response that was a good one, so I stayed silent and let that speak for me.

“I have something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

He pushed up in the bed, sitting up more and turning toward me. One of his legs bent, knee up as he planted his foot into the bed. My gaze got distracted by his leg, the fall of his sheet to his waist, revealing the edge of his boxer briefs and a thick trail of hair just above.

Hudson’s finger pressed to my chin, and he was smirking when our eyes met. “Haven’t you had enough?”

The teasing glint in his eye made me smile. “You’re just so pretty to look at.”

He chuckled and then quickly smothered it. “At the wedding, I talked to my cousin, Shawn.”

“The cop?” All my humor fled and I sat up, curling my legs in front of me and turning to him. “Why?”

Hudson’s finger at my chin swept along my jaw, back behind my ear, before he cupped the side of my face. I leaned in instinctively, as it’d become so easy to fall into his chest.

“You told me once your parents moved while you were in prison and didn’t let you know. I asked for his help in seeing if he can find their address.”

“What?” An icy sensation slithered through me, straight to my fingers and toes. I scooted back on the bed until I was on my knees, out of his touch. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I knew you wanted to know where they were.”


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