My own bed. I hadn't been there in days. It felt like a lifetime.
"That sounds perfect."
The verdict came four hours later.
Guilty. On all counts.
Torres called to deliver the news while Hudson and I were curled up on my couch, a half-eaten pizza on the coffee table and some mindless movie playing on the TV. I put the phone on speaker so Hudson could hear.
"Life without parole," Torres said. "He's never getting out."
I closed my eyes, letting the words wash over me. Life without parole. Briggs was going to spend the rest of his miserable existence in a prison cell, paying for what he'd done to Chris Greene.
"Thank you," I said, my voice thick. "For everything."
"You're the one who deserves the thanks, Ms. Ramirez. You put yourself on the line to make sure justice was served. That took guts."
After I hung up, I turned to Hudson. He was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"It's really over," I said.
"Yeah." He pulled me into his lap, cradling me against his chest. "It's really over."
I buried my face in his neck and let myself cry. Hudson held me through all of it, his hands stroking my back, his voice a low murmur in my ear.
"I've got you," he said. "I've got you, honey. Let it out."
I don't know how long we stayed like that. Long enough for the tears to stop. Long enough for my breathing to even out. Long enough for something new to take root in my chest.
Hope.
For the first time in months, I actually believed that everything was going to be okay.
I lifted my head to look at him, and the love I saw in his eyes made my heart ache.
"Hudson?"
"Yeah?"
"Take me to bed."
His eyes darkened. "Betty, you're exhausted. You need to sleep."
"I will. After." I pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I need you. I need to feel something good after everything that's happened. I need you to remind me what it's like to feel safe and loved and alive."
He was quiet for a moment, searching my face. Whatever he found there must have convinced him, because he stood, lifting me easily in his arms.
"Hold on to me," he said.
I wrapped my arms around his neck as he carried me to the bedroom, my heart pounding with anticipation. He laid me down on the bed gently, like I was something precious, and then just stood there, looking at me.
"What?" I asked.
"I'm just... memorizing this. You, here, safe. Mine."
"Yours," I agreed. "Always yours."
He stripped off his shirt, and I let my eyes roam over the hard planes of his chest, the tattoos, the scars. He was beautiful. Dangerous and damaged and absolutely beautiful.
