Page 58 of Curvy Desire's Second Shot

“What do you see?” she asked, turning to look at me.

I hesitated, the weight of the question settling over me. “A life,” I said finally. “One where we’re not always looking over our shoulders. Where we can just... be.”

She smiled faintly, her eyes distant. “That sounds nice.”

“It’s more than nice,” I said, my voice steady. “It’s possible.”

She glanced at me, her brow furrowing slightly. “You really think so?”

“I do,” I said, reaching for her hand. “Because we’ve already fought through the worst of it. And we made it.”

That night,as we drove back to the apartment, I found myself reflecting on how much had changed. Not just around us, but between us. Naomi had come back into my life like a storm—unexpected and undeniable—and she’d changed everything. She’d given me a reason to believe in something bigger than the fight, something worth building a future for.

She didn’t just make me stronger—she made me better.

When we got home, she sank onto the couch with a tired sigh, her head leaning back against the cushions. I sat beside her, my hand resting on her knee as I watched her.

“We did it,” she said softly, her eyes closing for a moment. “We actually did it.”

“We did,” I said, my voice steady. “But it’s not over.”

Her eyes opened, meeting mine. “What do you mean?”

I hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s time to move on, Naomi. To leave all of this behind. Together.”

Her breath hitched, and she stared at me, her expression a mix of surprise and something softer, something hopeful.

“Together,” she repeated, her voice trembling slightly.

“Always,” I said, my hand tightening on hers.

Chapter Forty-Three

Naomi

The road stretched out ahead of us, winding through fields just starting to show the first hints of spring. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of blooming wildflowers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I could breathe. Really breathe.

Hudson’s hand rested on the wheel, his fingers tapping along to the rhythm of a song playing softly on the radio. He glanced at me occasionally, his lips curving into that small, reassuring smile that had become my anchor. I leaned back in my seat, watching the scenery blur by, and felt something I hadn’t in years: hope.

We were leaving Cedar Hill. Not permanently—not yet—but enough to begin the process of finding a new place to call home. It was strange to think about starting over, about stepping into a life free of the shadows that had clung to us for so long. But it was also exciting. Terrifying, yes. But exciting.

“You okay over there?” Hudson asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

I turned to him, nodding. “Yeah. Just... thinking.”

“About?” he prompted, his tone light.

“Everything,” I said, gesturing vaguely out the window. “How far we’ve come. How much has changed.”

He smiled, his gaze briefly flicking to me before returning to the road. “It’s been a hell of a ride.”

“That’s one way to put it,” I said, laughing softly. “But it’s worth it, right?”

“Absolutely,” he said, his voice steady. “And it’s only going to get better.”

The first housewe visited was nestled in a quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of a small town. It was a modest two-story with a wraparound porch and a yard that had seen better days. The real estate agent met us at the curb, her smile bright as she ushered us inside.

“It’s a bit of a fixer-upper,” she said, gesturing to the scuffed floors and outdated kitchen. “But it has a lot of potential.”

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