Page 123 of Her Goal
“What does that mean?” I ask.
He opens his can of soda and takes a glug. “It means settle in and make yourself at home.”
I watch him swallow, practically on the edge of my seat because surely there has to be a … but coming.
Turning to me, my heart leaps into my throat. Gaze softly on me, Hudson says, “After leaving home, if you could call it that, and having my own place, it was a sanctuary of sorts. A privateplace where I just for me where I didn’t have to listen to anyone fighting—in real life or my brother’s video games. I didn’t host house guests. Then the Nebraska Knights barged in and you followed.”
I sputter, trying to come up with a defense because technically I snuck into Hudson’s garage before the team welcome potluck. Though, perhaps that detail is better kept to myself.
His grin lights up his eyes. “Leah, you’re the shake up I needed. The one I want. You are welcome in my life. In my home. What will be our home.”
The objections come fast and furious. “What if you find my stuff everywhere?”
He shrugs again as he takes another sip of his Dr. Pepper.
Like Vanna White from Abuela’s third favorite game show, I sweep my hand along his bookshelf. “Your books are organized by size and topic. I tend to see a cool shelf organization style, get inspired, and then quit halfway through.”
“Okay.”
“Why are you being so mellow? Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”
He grips my shoulders. “Leah, after we get married this will beourhome andwe’llfigure out howwewant the books organized. I did it that way because no one was around to suggest otherwise. Growing up at my house, being neat or whatever, was a way for me to cope with the lack of control I experienced.”
“That’s insightful.”
“After Hunter bailed in Boston, I went to therapy. Learned some stuff. We’re not going to have a chaotic home, so I won’t need to maintain the illusion of control.”
“Have you met my family?”
He wears a half smile. “They’re wonderful, but there will be rules. They have to ask before rearranging our bookshelves.”
I want to laugh but resist. “Hudson?—”
“Leah—”
We’re both quiet, evaluating each other.
He sits down on the couch. “We will figure it out. We’re going to communicate. If your habits or my habits are at odds, we’ll find a solution. It might be to compromise or it could be that we do things a certain way for a good reason and if that needs to be dealt with, we’ll face it together.”
“Are you saying you might let yourself get a little messy?”
“If you’re willing to be a little tidier.”
I hold out my hand.
We shake and both say, “Deal.” Then he tugs me onto the couch with him. A playful yelp escapes as I try not to spill my soda, then the laughter comes from both of us, long and robust.
My head is in his lap and he smooths my hair. I look up at those dark eyes, unable to think about anything other than how surreal this is. “What are the odds?” I ask faintly.
“Who would’ve thought?” he asks.
Hudson’s gaze traces my features, then his focus lands on my lips. I realize that I’m smiling. His grows until his eyes crinkle. Suddenly shy, I glance away and sit up.
A copy ofPride and Prejudicesits on the coffee table. “I’d agree that we’re a bit of a Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet reversal.”
“There’s still the arranged marriage element.”
“Ignore my parents. They’re loco.”
