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And I’m pretty sure neither of us has an answer.

Fourteen

Willow

I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous for anything ever in my life.

Pulling into the driveway of a nice house in an equally nice, but nondescript neighborhood, seeing lights on in the windows, several other cars in the long driveway, parked along the curb in front…and my anxiety is ratcheted so high that my lungs are struggling to work.

Hudson puts the car into park and turns to me, hand slowly moving over the console, drifting toward me, eyes locked onto mine as though gauging my response to him touching me.

But I don’t flinch away from him because he’s safe.

He’s kind.

He’ll protect me.

I know that like I know exactly what Dylan would have done to me if I stayed.

Soft fingers brush over my cheek and my eyes slide closed for a moment.

Then I exhale quietly.

“It’ll be okay,” he murmurs.

Some part of me knows that too.

Briar and Frankie. Atlas and Royal and Jade. Aspen and Banks. He’s talked about them enough that I feel like I know them already—and that time we spent together at Hudson’s house a couple of days ago proved that Briar and Frankie are exactly as he painted them. But this is Sunday Dinner, the time where his family gets together, where they share good times, where they laugh and tease and bond and?—

I’ve never had that.

Dinner parties where I play the perfect fiancée and hostess.

Drug-fueled benders where I drown out every worry about the past, present, and future.

Family dinners?

Absolutely not.

“You’ve won Frankie over,” he says and my lids peel open to see him smiling gently. “You’ll learn that she’s the heart of the family. If she likes and trusts you, you’re in.”

Approval by a four-year-old is all it takes?

I find that highly doubtful.

And yet, I can’t deny that Hudson’s words loosen the knot in my belly.

“Good?” he asks, running his knuckles along my jaw.

“I’m good,” I murmur.

“Good,” he says, mouth tipping up.

Then he leans back, reaches for the handle, opens his door.

That unsticks me and I do the same, joining him at the front of his car and walking beside him up to the front door. His gait is so much better than even a couple of days ago, as though he never even had surgery in the first place.

Which is a good thing because we’ve barely cleared the top step before the door whips open and Frankie runs out, launching herself into Hudson’s arms.