Chapter 27

One Month Later

Briar and I sit in the parked truck. I don't talk, and neither does she. But she's here, and that alone helps in some way I can't really explain.

I'm not a man who gets nervous or feels uneasy. I've been trained not to show emotions besides anger. But right now … I am. This is the last time I'll ever go into the house that belonged to Cami and me—the one where the nursery is still made, and all the pillows, paintings, curtains, and area rugs my wife picked out still remain.

My mom is going to clean the place out for me and relocate everything to a new home. And then it's going up for sale. But first, I need to walk through and take anything that I don't want to leave behind. A part of me feels like selling it is letting Cami and our daughter go, but it's not like that. I could never live with another woman in a house that we bought together. But still, I feel the need to bring Briar here. To show her something that takes up so much of my heart and soul.

Briar's hand cups mine, holding it tightly.

Finally, I crane my neck toward her. "Ready?"

My free hand takes hold of the handle, but before I can push the door open, her hand pulls me back, stopping me.

"Hudson, I don't have to go in with you if you don't feel right about it. I can wait in the truck while you go inside. Really." She removes her hand from mine and brushes my hair away from my forehead. "I know it's hard for you to come here. I don't want to make it worse." Her voice is a whisper now. "I also want you to take as much time as you need. I'm in no rush."

"I promise, I want you here." I swallow. "I need you here."

"Okay," she says, offering a tiny smile. "Then, right here is where I'll be."

We both get out of the truck and walk toward the house. Everything is how I left it the last time I stopped in. Well maintained and appearing like people actually live here.

Taking a few steps up the porch slowly, I push the key into the door. I don't feel connected to this place anymore, and I know it's because they aren't here. This might have our things in it and stuff we accumulated and picked out together. But at the end of the day, they're just items. And without Cami in it … this house is just a soulless box.

She was what made it home.

When I walk in, the same scent hits my nostrils that always causes that familiar pain in my chest. A scent that makes me feel like she's so close that I could reach out and touch her. Only, the reality is, I can't. It's faint, but it's there. Making this place even harder to be in.

Briar gives my hand a slight squeeze. "It's okay," she whispers. "It's okay to feel things. It's all right to hurt. I promise, Hudson, I don't ever want you to hide that you miss them. They are a part of what makes you, you." Big tears swell in her beautiful eyes. "You can love them and miss them and still love me."

Sometimes, I look at Briar and know that as messed up as it might sound to some people, she was sent here from above to bring me back to life. Because I think a big part of me died six years ago, right alongside my wife. And until Briar James came along, I wasn't living anymore. I was going through the motions and nothing else.

I had given up. Because truthfully, I didn't see the point in life after loss.

I pull in a breath. It hurts my chest, but it doesn't feel like it's going to kill me. Not the way it usually does.

The pain I lug around with me every day, I know, will always be there. But at least now I don't have to carry it all alone.

We drive down the street and farther away from a place that Hudson once called home. He's quiet, but I know that he's processing so many emotions right now. The second we drove in front of that house today, I watched every hard part of the exterior of Hudson Hale, cold and ruthless undercover agent, crack. And left behind was a sad, broken man.

An hour ago, he let me into a part of his life that I know he mourns so deeply. His wife and unborn baby are a part of what makes him who he is. Though I wish I could turn back time and bring them back for his sake, I plan to do my best to love him through the tough days because, as someone who knows loss, the bad days will never go away completely. But now, at least we have each other to get us through those dark times.

"You got a map, Dove?" His deep voice says the words almost idly.

"Not on me," I say, giving him a teasing smile. "I don't usually have one in my pocket though." Curiosity gets the best of me. "Why?"

From behind the wheel, he glances over at me. "Pick a place, anyplace, on a map. That's where we'll go."

"What?" I blurt out. "Wh-what do you mean?"

We come to the end of the street, and he shifts the truck into park.

"I mean … Georgia isn't home for me anymore. And I can work pretty much anywhere now that I won't be undercover. Hell, I could even work for the FBI from home." He leans his arms on the steering wheel, tilting his head forward at me. "I guess what I'm saying is, you're my home now, Briar. And I want to know where you see yourself living. And hopefully, I'm there too."

There is something I found out a few days ago, but between him making arrangements with his mom and the movers, he's been busy. For other reasons besides that, I've been nervous about telling him that I heard back from one of the art schools I applied to, simply because of where it's located.

"How do you feel about Boston?" rushes quickly from my lips. "I mean, I know you moved to the South to get away from New England winters. So, if you say absolutely not, I'd understand." My mouth can't stop moving as more words flow from my lips. "I applied to college in Boston and found out a few days ago that I got in. I applied there because it's less than two hours away from Walker and Poppy. And it's about an hour from your mom. Which I know is weird because we haven't been together that long. I'm not trying to be a stalker or steal your mom, I swear. I just … if you came with me, I figured you'd like to be closer to her. Which would be great because she really misses you and Ginger." The words come from my mouth so fast that even I'm surprised at what I'm saying. "What am I saying? You grew up in New Hampshire. You left. Of course you don't want to go back to that part of the country. I didn't even think I'd get in. I mean, it's a top-rated art college and …" I bite down on my bottom lip, begging myself to just shut up already. "I should have told you I applied there, but honestly, I just didn't think I had a shot at getting in."

There's no mistaking the amusement on his face, and when he reaches over the center console and cups my cheeks, I have no idea what's going to come out of his beautiful mouth. With Hudson Hale, it's always hard to know. But he doesn't look mad. And for that, I'm thankful.

"You know there'd be no shortage of work for me in Boston." He kisses my forehead. "As long as you promise me something."

"What?" my voice croaks.

"Once you finish school and become a famous artist, during those terrible fucking winters, we can travel somewhere warm. Sit our asses on a beach somewhere, sipping a couple of fruity drinks with umbrellas in them."

"I'd love that," I say, absolutely meaning those three words. I want to travel and see the world. And that's why the idea of being an artist is so attractive to me. I could work anywhere. I might not make a ton of money, but if I have Hudson, I don't really care. "Do you mean that? Like … really mean it?"

So many people say things they'll do one day, but they never do them. I want to go everywhere with Hudson. I want to experience the world together. I don't want to just say it. I want it to be our reality.

"One thousand percent, Dove," he says in a serious tone. "Like I said, I could work pretty much anywhere." He winks. "I suppose taking down one of Italy's biggest drug cartels and getting shot—and almost dying in the process—means that from here on out, the agency will make whatever the hell I want to do work." He runs his hand through my hair, tucking it behind my ear. "And they even offered to pay for your schooling. So, now that you know where you're going, you'll have to let them know."

"They didn't really mean that, I'm sure." I huff out a laugh. "I'll take student loans and get a part-time job. No biggie."

His gaze hardens. "Sweetheart, they abso-fucking-lutely meant it. And if they didn't, I'd make it so they did." His brows furrow. "Of course they are going to take care of your education, Briar. You fucking led them to Vittoria Island."

"Not really," I mumble. "Natasha did more than me."

"Bullshit," he growls, tugging my hair gently. "So … we're going to Boston."

My eyes widen, and I try to fight the exaggerated smile before it breaks across my lips but fail miserably. "We'd be right in the heart of the city. There are so many restaurants and things to do."

"You know I love to eat."

"And so much shopping," I add, even though I don't really give a shit about that.

"I love to watch you shop." He continues to nod.

"Ten coffee shops. All within walking distance of the school."

"I love to get jacked up on coffee with you," he tosses back. "Sign me up."

"And, most of all … we'll be closer to our families."

"Family … right … yay ," he deadpans, but I know right away that he's just teasing me when his grin spreads. "I'm kidding. That all sounds great. But you know what I like most about it?"

"What?" I practically squeal.

"We'll be there. Together."

I open my mouth to answer or scream in excitement when a horn suddenly honks. Looking in our mirrors, we both spot an old lady glaring at us before she lays on the horn again.

"Moment's over," Hudson says with a shrug before holding his arm out the window. "Have a lovely day!" he calls out to her before speeding away, both of us laughing.

Today was sad in many ways, but it also felt healing. How can anyone ever get over the past if they never face it? I'm thankful I got to be by his side, and I'm grateful he allowed me to do that.