Page 144 of Wrecking Us
“Yeah, I guess he is,” he says, his voice tinged with awe that makes me smile.
I take a sip of my beer.
“And so are you…” he says, leaning over to kiss my jaw.
I settle my beer in between my legs and shift closer to him. With one hand, I reach out and grasp his jaw and turn him to meet my lips.
I kiss him slowly, reveling in the smooth feel of his tongue in my mouth. When he pulls away, I see the undeniable happiness in his eyes.
“We should head inside,” I say as I check my watch. “Get dinner ready before the big game.”
Though we’d wanted to go to Andre’s first game back coaching, Hudson couldn’t get the time off, and so I didn’t want to go without him. So, we opted to stay here, but told everyone—including Andre—that we’d be watching from home and cheering him on from our couch. I still can’t believe I get to say that—ourcouch.Ourhome.
If you would have told me two years ago that I would be here—living with my best friend and boyfriend—I would never have believed it, but I guess that’s the thing about life. Sometimes it surprises you.
“Not yet,” Hudson says, taking a pull of his beer. “We have time.”
I pull my legs up and stretch them out on the swing, adjusting myself as I lean against Hudson’s chest. He moves his arm from my waist to my shoulder so I can get comfortable, his hand finding its home right over my heart. I slowly drink my beer, relishing in the warmth of his solid body against mine as I watch Rocket bound up the steps and leap up onto the swing, nearly knocking my beer out of my hand. Luckily, I manage to hold it up as he throws himself in my lap, tail wagging happily as he licks Hudson’s hand, my shirt, and my neck.
Hudson sighs.
With my free hand, I scratch behind Rocket’s velveteen ears and he closes his eyes, burrowing his face against my hand.
“Sure you don’t want to bail?” I say, leaning my head back to look up at him. I catch Hudson’s gaze, noting the flecks of gold shimmering as bright as the sun that’s shining.
His lips turn up in a soft smile.
“Positive,” he says, reaching his fingers to play with Rocket’s fur. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”
Rocket settles in my lap, and I catch his big stretch and yawn.
I pet him slowly, the motion oddly calming.
“But you’re free to head in and make dinner, if you want,” he says, his voice full of teasing.
I’m not the best cook—since most of my adult life was spent eating takeout rather than learning how to cook because I was never home—but I’m slowly learning. Hudson’s definitely better than me when it comes to cooking, for sure.
I look at Rocket in my lap, who’s now zonked out and snoring softly. I let out a chuckle.
“Can’t,” I say with a grin, relaxing against him as I rest my hand on top of Rocket’s big head.
The birds tweet, and somewhere in the distance I can hear a sprinkler going off and the faint laughter of the neighbor kids.
“What do you mean? Of course you can,” he says, setting his empty bottle down on the table next to the swing. I finish mine, and without saying a word, he grabs it from me and does the same with it.
“Nope,” I say, closing my eyes as I lean my head on his chest. My fingers play with Rocket’s soft fur and Hudson’s crisp rainwater scent fills my lungs. My heart feels so fucking full, I think it’s going to burst.
“If I move, I’ll wake him up,” I say, my eyelids feeling heavy all of a sudden. I’m warm and comfortable.
“Mhmm,” Hudson mutters, pulling me into his lap. I don’t fight him as I lay my head down. The swing shifts, but it’s a welcome movement; almost soothing. Rocket shifts, but doesn’t wake, his soft snores turning to little chortles of heated puppy breath on my leg.
Hudson’s fingers slide through my hair rhythmically.
“Then I guess we’re stuck here,” he says, but I note how soft his voice is. How full ofloveit is. “Until he wakes up, anyway.”
“Uh-huh,” I mutter, slumber calling my name. “Should be a couple minutes.”
I feel the faintest rhythm of the swing; back and forth. “Five minutes,” I breathe.
