Page 54 of Abyss

My chest aches from a wound I know will never truly heal. “Doctors said it was sudden cardiac arrest during the night. He went to bed as normal one night, but never woke up.”

Hudson frowns. “I’m sorry, Kavi.”

I swirl the last bits of broth in my bowl with my spoon, blinking away the mist from my eyes. “Thank you.”

Hudson leans back in his chair. “As hard as it may be for you to believe, I grew up much the same way. My mom passed away when I was young, so Dad raised Jett and me for the most part on his own. And though he had the fishing charter, there were years where we barely scraped by financially.”

“Well, would you look at that?” I ask, crossing my arms on the table and smiling at him to lighten the mood. “I guess we do have a few things in common.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up, not giving me thesatisfaction of a full smile, of course. “I bet we have more in common than you think. It just depends on the layers you want to peel back.”

I twist my mouth, thinking. “Okay, so instead of things like favorite color or music, let’s go deeper. I want to know more about my cranky old boss.”

He nods. “Only if you answer the same questions.”

“Deal.” I tap my lips, thinking about what I want to ask first. “What’s the accomplishment you’re most proud of in your life?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Madison. Raising her is, by far, what I’m most proud of. My dad and Jett both helped me the best they could, especially when I was attending college, but for the most part, it was just me and her.”

I can’t help the smile that stretches on my face, my eyes misting at the pride in his features. It’s obvious how hard it must have been to raise a child as a teen, but he did it. “And she turned out perfect, Hudson. She’s one of the kindest, most incredible people I’ve met. Not to mention, she’s so smart and hard-working.”

“You can tell her that she gets all those qualities from her dad the next time you see her.” He winks at me, and my heart skips. “She’ll love that.”

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to do that,” I lie.

Reading my sarcasm correctly, he waves a hand at me. “Your turn.”

I shrug. “My degrees, I think. As you know, going to college when things are tight at home can be challenging. But thankfully, I had a scholarship and financial aid to make it work, along with parents who encouraged me to do so.”

Hudson clears his throat. “Your paintings are . . . incredible.”

I smile. “You went through them?”

He looks a little embarrassed. “After the movers came, I had them set it in that room and, well—”

“I’m just giving you a hard time. I don’t mind.” My smile withers. “Painting saved me. It got me through some of the worst times in my life. It’s also the basis of what I plan to give back to the world.”

“I remember you telling Silas and,” his jaw ticks, “Corbin that you wanted to work with kids who had been abused or bullied.” His eyes search mine. “Is there a reason you’re so specialized?”

It’s my turn to look out the window, though I don’t even notice the rain or the streetlamps flickering. “My experiences are entangled with my art. They’re one and the same in many ways. Every painting is a diary entry. I want to teach kids that they have other means of speaking their minds, even if it’s taking their anger and frustrations out on a blank canvas.”

Hudson intertwines his fingers together on the table, his eyes lingering on my arm. “Are you ever going to tell me how you got that scar?”

I drop my arms, hiding my scar beneath the table. Damn, the man is way too astute for anyone’s good. “Maybe one day, but not today. Anyway, it’s my turn to askyoua question.”

He smiles, letting the topic go.

“What’s something you’re afraid of that most people aren’t?”

He circles his thumbs around each other. I can tell he has an answer to my question, but he’s wondering how to phrase it. Finally looking up, he says, “Finding someone worth changing for, only for her to realize I’m not worth the trouble.”

Whoa.

His unexpected vulnerability catches me off guard. Is this the same man who walks around with his heavily armoredheart, wielding a razor-sharp tongue and bullet-proof standards? “I’m guessing you’re speaking from experience?”

He shakes his head. “No, I haven’t experienced it, and that’s what scares me.” He pauses. “What about you? What’s something you’re afraid of that others might not be?”

I swallow as familiar tentacles of unease threaten to bind me. It’s not often that I open up to people. “The dark.”

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