Page 34 of The Ex Project (The Heartwood #3)

WREN

Hudson doesn’t take me home. At least, not to my home. And maybe that’s better. I have a sneaking suspicion part of the reason I’ve been so wound up has to do with my family. The constant pushing and striving to be on top, the constant comparison between Claire and I. The fear of failure.

I’ve always had a vice grip on everything I’ve ever done. I have this insatiable need to control every variable, every outcome. My undoing tonight was losing control, in a very public and humiliating way. In a way that might threaten all the success I’ve fought for.

So no, I don’t want to go back to my house yet.

I don’t want to look at the pictures of Claire lining our staircase.

Our family group chat was popping off during the presentations.

I checked it a couple of times only to find out that, yes, my sister is putting herself forward for the medical director position, and yes, she is the most qualified, and yes, she is the top contender.

Here I am, floundering and failing at my last-ditch effort to get to the top of my field. To prove that I have what it takes in my own right. That I deserve this promotion. And if I fail? I’ll forever be second best compared to Claire. I’ll be the first Miller to ever lose so catastrophically.

The way Hudson is looking at me as he glances over at me in the passenger seat of his truck, though, he’s not looking at me like I’m a disappointment. He’s looking at me like I’m the only thing in his world that matters.

He’s still looking at me like that when we get to his apartment and he lets me in through the front door.

Ruby is right there to greet me, tail wagging, a happy expression on her face, and seeing her feels like a relief.

“Hi, girl.” Today, I don’t care that her fur is decorating my perfectly pressed pant suit.

I don’t care that the side of my leg looks like it’s growing another dog.

I. Don’t. Care. I ruffle Ruby’s fur, leaning down to stroke her neck.

A single tear rolls off my cheek and disappears into her shiny coat, and I sniff the rest of them back before they threaten to burst out of me like a dam breaking.

“You go get comfy on the couch, I’m going to run you a bath,” Hudson says, his instructions firm like he’s already made the decision and I don’t get to question it.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I quip, but my tone has a lot less forcefulness than I was hoping for. I’m tired.

“It’s okay to let me take care of you,” he says, his hands gripping my shoulders, gentle but firm.

I nod reluctantly. I hate it when he’s right. But I don’t have the mental space to make any decisions right now anyways. And frankly, a bath sounds incredible .

I do as I’m told, for once in my life, and I head straight to the couch, curling up on one end and resting my head on a throw pillow.

Ruby follows me, stuck to my side like she can sense that I need her.

She matches the shape of my body on the couch and tucks herself next to me.

I close my eyes, letting my mind focus only on the feeling of her fur between my fingers.

Ruby sighs, her body relaxing, and mine does the same.

I don’t want to move, but when Hudson comes to get me and lets me know my bath is ready, I once again follow his gentle prodding to go and get in.

He gives me space, closing the bathroom door behind me, and I’m grateful for it. Though there’s a part of me that wants to see where things could go with Hudson, and although I have a physical need to be close to him right now, I need some mental space to process the revelation I’ve had tonight.

Still, I imagine what it would feel like to have his rough, calloused fingers grazing my skin, undoing the buttons on my blouse, letting the strap of my bra fall off my shoulder. How his large hands would form to the shape of my hips as he slid my lace panties down until they fell to the floor.

I slide down into the hot water, my skin prickling in the heat. All my muscles loosen, and I let out a moan I’m sure can be heard from anywhere in the apartment.

I’m grateful Jett isn’t home. I didn’t ask where he was, because I don’t care about his whereabouts.

That moan was just for Hudson, and a soft smile plays on my lips thinking about him hearing me.

I wonder if he’s considering coming in here and getting into the water with me. I wouldn’t turn him away.

He doesn’t, and I finish my bath, letting myself soak away the stress and worries of the day.

The vote somehow feels far away now. Although a new pang of adrenaline shoots through my chest when I think about finding out the results.

We left before the ballots were counted.

I take a deep breath. I already know in my gut what they will be. Now, it’s about navigating the fallout.

What my boss will say. The way Brody will rub it in my face that he’s better positioned for the promotion. How my father will react. How Claire will react.

Another realization dawns on me. It’s already done. I can’t go back and change anything now. I did what I was told to do. I presented the version of the arts centre Rick instructed me to. I can’t take it back now, and most of all, I can’t control how anyone reacts to the outcome. Except for me.

For someone who has been hell-bent on controlling every aspect of my life, the thought of not having control is … liberating. It feels good. It feels like I can let go.

I wrap the fluffy towel Hudson had set out for me around my chest, realizing the only clothes I have with me are the ones I came here in.

Like hell am I putting my stuffy suit back on now.

When I open the bathroom door, Hudson is puttering in the kitchen, tidying up the day’s mess, and the way he’s moving around his apartment with me here feels comfortable, casual.

Like we do this every day. We’re coexisting together.

He looks up at me, standing in the hallway to the side of the kitchen, the towel covering my breasts but not long enough to come down to an appropriate level of my thigh. His eyes roam over me for a moment before he snaps his gaze up to my face.

“I left some shorts and a T-shirt in the bedroom for you.” He nods towards the bedroom door, so I follow where he’s pointing and find a neatly folded T-shirt and a pair of blue, striped boxer shorts on the end of the bed.

I let the towel fall around my feet, not bothering to close the door.

Hudson can’t see me from the kitchen directly, and if he came into the bedroom and saw me naked?

Well, so what? Good for him. I have no energy to care about hating Hudson anymore, and the way he’s taken care of me tonight, I have to question why I ever did.

I’m almost disappointed that Hudson hasn’t walked into the room yet, as I slip into the clothes. I run my hands over the soft cotton of his T-shirt. It smells like him. Warm like cinnamon, with something sweet, like orange.

I suddenly feel like every bone in my body weighs ten pounds more than before. I’m exhausted. Panic attacks take a lot out of you, as it turns out. It’s all I can do just to crawl into Hudson’s bed, under the thick, navy blue duvet, and cocoon myself in it.

I feel Ruby’s weight on the mattress as she jumps up and scoots herself close to me before lying down, and when I turn to look over at her, Hudson is standing at the door, a mug in his hand.

“I made you a chamomile tea. It always helps me wind down after a stressful day.” He rounds the bed and sets it down on the oak nightstand next to me.

He must have changed while I was in the tub, because now he’s dressed in a white cotton T-shirt and blue plaid pajama bottoms, and he looks soft, inviting. Like I want to curl up into him.

I prop myself up on a pillow against the headboard, finally taking the time to look around the bedroom, dimly lit by bedside table lamps.

“Thanks,” I answer, picking up the warm mug and taking in the soft scent of chamomile. “You didn’t strike me as a chamomile guy,” I add as I look around the room. There’s a lot about Hudson I would never have guessed.

The decor in Hudson’s place is simple, yet cozy and inviting.

He has a lot of natural wood furniture in a mid-century modern style.

His apartment is mostly navy blue and a creamy white, and wood finishes.

Some of the walls are the original brick and it gives it a rustic, industrial vibe I like.

The place suits him, the only part that stands out is how tidy it is.

Tidy is not what I was expecting of Hudson. I never thought of him as being organized, or disciplined, or motivated. He always goofed off, and for most of my life, I liked to goof off with him. Until reality slapped me in the face and I understood graduation meant it was time to grow up.

Apparently, somewhere along the line in the last ten years, Hudson got the memo, too.

It makes me have this uncontrollable curiosity and need to know all the ways Hudson has changed.

I suddenly want to know everything that has happened to him over the last decade, what experiences shaped him into who he is today.

Hudson sits next to me on the bed, propped up on a pillow against the headboard, too, but leaning on his side so he can look at me .

“The stress of working at the firehall used to get to me. Never knowing when my pager was going to go off, balancing that and my construction job. It was a lot. I finally managed to get on top of it, though. Now I like to have a strict bedtime routine, and the chamomile helps me sleep if I’m worried about the pager going off in the night. ”

It hits me that Hudson does manage a lot—a lot more than I ever would have given him credit for. It’s not like I didn’t think he was capable. I knew he could accomplish whatever he set out to do—that wasn’t the problem. I didn’t think he wanted it badly enough.