Page 121 of The Rehoboth Retreat
And neither was he.
Miles
I hadn’t planned on falling in love in Rehoboth Beach, fresh out of a divorce.
Hell, I hadn’t even planned on speaking to anyone other than my dog and maybe a few polite exchanges with baristas over oat milk lattes. This retreat was supposed to be aboutme—a solo recalibration. Healing. Coastal solitude. A perfectly curated palate cleanser for the soul.
But then Hudson Knight happened.
Loud. Crass. Unfiltered.
And somewhere between his reckless charm and the way he looked at me like I washisquiet, safe place—I got swept away.
Now, here I was, sitting on his leather sectional in the beach house next door, knees curled beneath me, watching him finish folding a shirt he clearly didn’t fold often. It was inside out, and it still had a faint stain on the collar. Lipstick, maybe. Or barbecue sauce. I didn’t want to know.
Apparently, he’d decided now was the time to do a proper packing job. But I knew it was just an excuse to stall—to spend as much time with me as he could. We both knew the inevitable was coming.
His suitcase sat open on the coffee table. Half-packed. Half-defiant. Like it didn’t want to go either.
“Your folding technique is a hate crime,” I murmured, trying to smile.
Hudson snorted. “Please. This shirt and I have been through war. It deserves wrinkles. It’s gotcharacter.”
I looked away, my throat tightening.
He noticed.
“Miles.”
I glanced back.
He was standing now, arms crossed, brow furrowed in that rare way that meant something was actually getting to him beneath the bravado. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Like I’m already gone.”
I stood slowly, barefoot on the cool tile, crossing the room to him. The space between us felt heavy with unsaid things, like the air itself was thick with ifs and maybes and wish-you-would-stays.
“This weekend…” I began, exhaling. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I came here to get away. From the city. From Owen. From all of it. I thought I was supposed tofindmyselfhere.”
He nodded slowly, jaw working.
“And now?” I continued, stepping closer. “Now, I can’t picture this place without you in it.”
He swallowed hard. “Miles…”
“No, let me finish. I don’t want you to leave, Hudson.”
He blinked.
“I know this was never supposed to be about you,” I said, voice trembling. “But now you’re part of the story. You’re part of theretreat.And I don’t want to go back to silence and spreadsheets and wine nights with Cecilia where she pretends not to know I’m sad.”
His eyes softened. “You really think this…us… would work?”
I gave him a small, almost broken laugh. “I think you drive me insane. You make me drink more than I should and eat carbs after eight. But I also think… Idon’twant to be alone anymore. And I don’t want to not know what happens next between us.”
He closed the space between us.
