Page 108 of The Rehoboth Retreat
He chuckled, and I swear something in my chest unknotted.
I poured two glasses, grabbedthe bottle, and nodded toward the patio. He followed.
Outside, the beach was ink-black under a velvet sky, the waves whispering like they were in on all our secrets. The patio couch faced the dunes, the moon casting a soft glow over the sand like powdered sugar on a crime scene.
We curled up together—me on one end, him leaning into me like the world had finally stopped spinning just long enough for us to catch our breath.
I handed him the glass. “To breakdowns, breakthroughs, and Italian reds.”
He clinked it lightly against mine. “To going off-script.”
We sipped in silence for a bit, the wine warming our insides like a hug we didn’t have to explain.
Then he spoke again, voice quieter. “I’ve never done this.”
“Sat on expensive outdoor furniture with a half-naked celebrity?”
“No,” he laughed softly, “I’ve never been this open. With anyone. Not like this. Not since—”
“Owen,” I finished.
He nodded. “And even with him, I don’t know if it ever felt likethis.”
I wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”
He looked up at me, eyes vulnerable but unafraid. “What is this, Hudson?”
I exhaled slowly, gazing out toward the waves. “It’s terrifying. And messy. And probably doomed. But it’s also the first time in a long damn while that I’ve feltseen. And not just by someone who wants a photo or to get off. I mean, actuallyseen.”
He rested his head against my chest. “Me too.”
I held him tighter, the silence between us growing more sacred than awkward.
And then I said the words I didn’t expect to ever say. Not to anyone.
“I don’t want to have sextonight.”
Miles tilted his head, slightly amused. “Oh? Who are you, and what have you done with Hudson Knight?”
I cracked a smile. “Shut up. I’m serious. I just… I want to hold you. That’s it. I want this night to mean something.”
“It already does,” he whispered.
So, we sat there. Just two broken, complicated men curled together under the stars, sipping overpriced wine and letting ourselves believe—if only for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, we weren’t as unlovable as we once thought.
No cameras. No gossip. No chaos.
Just us.
Real. Raw. Andokay.
For once.
Miles
The first thing I felt was the ache in my lower back. A knotted, rude little reminder that I had slept in a position not sanctioned by the American Chiropractic Association. The second thing I felt was the throb between my eyes, sharp and rhythmic—like my head had been caught between a wine press and a speaker at Diego’s nightclub.
I squinted into the gray blush of morning. The sky was the color of chilled oatmeal, soft and quiet with the promise of sunrise, and the air was crisp with salt. The ocean murmured in the distance, rolling its waves against the shore in a lazy rhythm that felt both comforting and accusatory.
