Page 46 of Curvy Desire's Second Shot

“Anywhere,” I said, laughing. “Everywhere.”

“Ambitious,” he teased, sitting beside me. “But I like it.”

The evening rolled around,and we decided to keep things simple—pizza and a movie. We curled up on the couch, my legs draped over his as he scrolled through the streaming options.

“Rom-com?” he suggested, smirking.

“Only if you want to hear me critique every cliché,” I said, grinning.

“Deal,” he said, selecting a movie and hitting play.

The opening credits rolled, and I found myself laughing within minutes, the humor light and easy. Hudson joined in, his deep chuckle sending a warmth through me that felt like home.

Halfway through the movie, I glanced at him, my heart swelling at the sight of him so relaxed, so present. He caught me staring and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” I said, smiling. “Just... happy.”

His expression softened, and he reached for my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine. “Me too.”

As the creditsrolled and the room fell into a comfortable silence, I leaned back against the couch, my head resting on Hudson’s shoulder. The weight of the past weeks felt distant now, like a bad dream I was finally waking up from.

I let my mind wander, imagining the life we were building. A home filled with laughter and warmth, a place where we could finally feel safe. I thought about the plans we’d made, the dreams we’d shared, and for the first time, they didn’t feel out of reach.

“For the first time,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, “the fear felt like a distant memory.”

Hudson turned to look at me, his expression soft. “And?”

I smiled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “And I just hope it stays that way.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Hudson

The early morning air was sharp and cold as I stepped out of the apartment. A light frost coated the edges of the sidewalk, crunching softly under my boots. For most people, mornings like this would feel quiet and serene—a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the world. But for me, they were a reminder to stay alert.

I scanned the parking lot as I made my way to the truck, my eyes moving automatically over the cars. Most of them were familiar—the same sedans and minivans I’d seen parked there for months. But one car stood out: a dark sedan tucked into a corner near the lot’s edge. The windows were heavily tinted, and the plates weren’t local. It hadn’t been there yesterday.

I stopped, my keys dangling from my hand as I studied it. There was no obvious reason to think it didn’t belong. People had visitors all the time, and this was an apartment complex, not a private neighborhood. But something about it felt... off. Maybeit was the way it was positioned, half-hidden in the shadows, or maybe it was just my gut screaming at me that something wasn’t right.

I lingered a moment longer, then shook my head and climbed into the truck. I couldn’t let paranoia run my life—not now, not when things were finally starting to settle. But as I started the engine and pulled out of the lot, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching.

By the timeI got back from running errands, the sedan was gone, but the unease hadn’t left me. I parked the truck and grabbed the bags from the passenger seat, my eyes scanning the lot again as I walked toward the apartment. Nothing looked out of place, but that didn’t stop the knot in my stomach from tightening.

Inside, the familiar sound of Naomi humming greeted me. She was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner, her hair tied up in a loose bun. The sight of her there, so calm and relaxed, made my chest tighten. This was what I wanted for her—for us. Peace. Safety. A life where she didn’t have to look over her shoulder every second of the day.

“Hey,” she said, glancing over her shoulder with a smile. “How was the store?”

“Crowded,” I said, setting the bags on the counter. “Didn’t miss much.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You hate grocery shopping.”

“Not my favorite,” I admitted, leaning against the counter as I watched her work. “But you make it worth it.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she rolled her eyes, but I caught the small smile she tried to hide. “Charmer.”

“Always,” I said, grinning.

For a moment, the tension in my chest eased, replaced by the warmth of her smile. But it didn’t last. The memory of the sedan, the flicker of movement I thought I’d seen in the lot earlier, lingered at the back of my mind.

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