"I'll testify," I said. "Whatever it takes."
"Good. Trial starts in four hours. Get some rest if you can. We'll have a car pick you up at your hotel."
Torres walked away, and I turned to Hudson.
"Hotel?" I asked.
"The safe house isn't exactly habitable anymore." He pulled me close, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Martinez booked us a suite. You can shower, eat, maybe sleep for an hour before we have to be at the courthouse."
Sleep. I couldn't remember the last time I'd really slept.
"What about you?" I asked. "You need rest too."
"I'll sleep when you're safe on that witness stand."
"But?"
"Non-negotiable," he said, echoing the word I'd used on him before.
I was too tired to argue.
The hotel suite was obscenely luxurious. The kind of place I never would've booked for myself. But Hudson insisted, and frankly, after the night I'd had, I was willing to accept a little pampering.
I showered first, standing under the hot water until my skin turned pink and the shaking finally stopped. When I emerged, wrapped in a fluffy white robe, Hudson was waiting with room service. All the things he knew I needed.
"Eat," he said.
"I love you."
The words came out before I could stop them, surprising us both.
Hudson went still, his coffee cup halfway to his lips. Then he set it down and crossed to me, cupping my face in his hands.
"Say it again."
"I love you." I reached up, covering his hands with mine. "I know I said it before, at the bar. But I need you to know, it's not just the danger talking. It's not just adrenaline or fear or gratitude. I love you, Hudson. I've loved you for twelve years, even when I was trying my hardest not to."
"I don't deserve you," he said quietly.
"Maybe not. But you're stuck with me anyway."
He laughed. A real laugh, the first I'd heard from him since he'd shown up at my door all those nights ago, and pulled me into his arms.
"I'm never leaving you again," he said against my hair.
He kissed me then, soft and sweet and full of promise. And for the first time in years, I felt like everything was going to be okay.
Not perfect. The trial was still looming, and there would be questions and statements and probably a lot of therapy in my future. But okay.
Because I wasn't facing it alone.
I had Hudson.
And that, it turned out, was enough.
The courthouse was chaos.
Reporters lined the steps, cameras flashing, microphones thrust forward as Hudson guided me through the crowd. He kept his arm around me, his body between me and the press, his expression daring anyone to get too close.
