Page 48 of Lost Then Found
“He’s good with animals,” I add, thinking of the way he always had a soft spot for the runts, the strays, the ones nobody else thought were worth saving. “And he used to be the best baseball player in Summit Springs.”
Hudson’s eyebrows lift slightly at that.
“He could’ve gone to college on a scholarship,” I say, giving him a small smile. “Probably could’ve gone pro if he wanted to.”
Hudson huffs. “Then why didn’t he?”
I inhale deeply, my heart aching a little. “That’s something you should ask him.”
Hudson is quiet for a long stretch, his fingers tracing over the grain of the table again. I hate this. I hate the position I’ve put him in. I hate that he has to process something this big, that I’m asking him to figure out how he feels about a dad he never knew, a dad he didn’t even know existed until a few minutes ago. My heart aches for him.
Finally, he glances up at me. “Are you guys friends?”
I nod. “We’ve known each other a long time.”
He tilts his head, considering that. “How long?”
I smile faintly. “Since I was younger than you are now.”
Hudson lets out a low whistle. “That’s a long time.”
“It is a long time,” I say softly.
He nods to himself, like he’s weighing it all out in his head. Then, finally, he exhales and says, “I guess dinner wouldn’t be too bad.”
Relief floods through me so fast I almost feel lightheaded. “Yeah?”
He shrugs. “Yeah.”
I swallow. “And maybe after that, if you want to, you guys can keep spending time together. We can work our way up to weekends.”
Hudson watches me, something unreadable in his expression. “Weekends where?”
I shift in my chair. “He has a ranch.”
Hudson’s eyebrows furrow. “A ranch?”
I nod. “It’s big. The Wilding Ranch. He grew up there. I did too, kind of.”
His fingers tap the table again, considering. “Like, with animals andstuff?”
I smile faintly. “Yeah. Horses, cattle, a bunch of different animals. And big, open fields. When we were kids, we used to go riding through the pastures, go fishing, spend summer nights outside with nothing but a campfire. It’s beautiful out there.”
Hudson nods his head slightly. “That sounds kinda cool.”
“Yeah?”
He shrugs again. “I’ve always wanted to fish.”
That makes me pause. “You have? Why haven’t you ever told me?”
He gives me a look. “Mom. You hate fish.”
That was true. I hate everything about them—the way they smell, the way they move, the way they feel like something prehistoric that should have been left the hell behind. But something about this—about Hudson never mentioning it—makes my chest ache. What else hasn’t he told me? What else has he kept to himself because he thought I wouldn’t care?
“Well, your dad’s a really good fisherman. I’m sure he’d be happy to teach you.”
Hudson smirks. “He doesn’t sound so bad so far.”
