Page 16 of Curvy Desire's Second Shot

I met her gaze, my chest tightening. “We fight back.”

Chapter Thirteen

Naomi

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, marking the slow passage of time as I sat curled up on Hudson’s couch, staring blankly at the muted TV. He’d gone quiet since we found the note. Too quiet. Hudson’s silence was more unnerving than the threat itself. It wasn’t like him to stay still for long.

He stood in the kitchen now, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the open space like he was waiting for the next attack. Every line of his body screamed tension, and it only added to the weight pressing on my chest.

I wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence, but the words caught in my throat. Hudson had this way of making me feel exposed, like he could see right through me no matter how hard I tried to hide. It was unsettling but comforting all at once.

“You’ve been quiet,” I finally said, my voice breaking the stillness.

“So have you,” he replied without looking at me.

I sighed, pulling the blanket tighter around me. “I guess I’m just trying to process everything.”

“Take your time,” he said, his tone softer now. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

The words hung in the air between us, their weight settling over me like a warm but heavy blanket. I wanted to believe him, to lean on him like he kept telling me I could. But a part of me—an ugly, stubborn part—held back.

“I’m not used to this,” I admitted quietly.

He turned to look at me, his brow furrowing. “Used to what?”

“To... having someone care so much,” I said, staring down at my hands. “It’s... overwhelming.”

Hudson didn’t say anything, but I felt the intensity of his gaze, like he was waiting for me to continue.

I let out a shaky laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “I mean, look at me. I’m not exactly the damsel-in-distress type, am I? I’m more like... the quirky best friend in a rom-com who gets a few funny one-liners before disappearing into the background.”

“Naomi,” he said, his voice low and steady, cutting through my self-deprecation like a knife.

“What?” I asked, forcing a smile. “It’s true.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, stepping closer. “Why would you even say something like that?”

I shrugged, trying to deflect. “Because it’s how I feel?”

“That doesn’t mean it’s true,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind.

I looked away, my chest tightening. “You don’t get it, Hudson. You’ve never been... me.”

“Then help me understand,” he said, sitting down beside me, his presence grounding but overwhelming all at once. “Talk to me.”

I hesitated, my fingers twisting the edge of the blanket as I tried to find the words. “It’s just... being me isn’t easy, okay? Being the curvy girl, the one who doesn’t fit the mold, the one who’s always overlooked or underestimated... It’s exhausting.”

Hudson’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I’ve spent my whole life trying to convince myself that I’m enough,” I continued, my voice cracking. “But it’s hard when the world keeps telling you you’re not. And the worst part is, I believe it sometimes.”

“Naomi—” he started, but I held up a hand to stop him.

“I’m not saying this to get sympathy,” I said quickly. “I just... I want you to know why I am the way I am. Why I joke about things or push people away. It’s easier than risking getting hurt.”

His silence made me look up, and the intensity in his eyes made my breath catch. There was no pity there, no judgment. Just... understanding. And something deeper that I couldn’t quite name.

“You’re not what the world says you are,” he said finally, his voice low but steady. “You’re more than enough. And if anyone’s ever made you feel otherwise, they’re a damn fool.”

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