The kid hesitated, both wary and determined to control the situation. “That’s between me and him.”
So he didn’t want to admit the obvious. Unless he did, she and Beck couldn’t either.
Her stomach twisted anxiously. Until Seth returned, how were they supposed to handle this? And how could they possibly prepare him for finding a son who looked exactly like him?
As if sensing her spiraling thoughts, Beck caught her eye and sent her the slightest nod. We’ll figure this out.
“Well…” Beck turned his attention back to the teenager. “Since we’re waiting for Seth, tell us where you’re from.”
“Connecticut.” Hudson’s answer was clipped, but at least he was talking.
“You’ve come a long way. How did you know where to find Seth?”
“Called the office in New York. Some guy named Matt told me he was working out of the LA branch.” Hudson shrugged like it was no big deal, but Heavenly could see the tension in his shoulders.
“Matt is Seth’s younger brother,” Heavenly volunteered. “He has four of them, actually.” She wondered how much he knew about the Cooper family.
Hudson’s laugh was bitter. “Why should I care?”
Oh, this poor kid. He must think Seth didn’t want him—had never wanted him. No wonder he was so angry.
“Just making small talk. I thought you might be interested to know that Seth is really close to his family.”
Hudson’s expression flickered—surprise, maybe?—before the mask of anger slammed back into place. “Good for him.”
Beck moved in closer, eyes fixed on Hudson. “Let’s cut the shit and address the elephant in the room. You’re here to meet Seth because he’s your dad, right?”
Hudson’s shoulders went rigid, his expression belligerent. Heavenly feared he would bolt.
“I never said he was my dad.”
“You don’t have to,” Beck drawled. “You look?—”
“Exactly like him. So I’ve gathered.” Hudson rolled his eyes with the practiced disdain only teenagers could master.
“You do,” Beck confirmed.
“So much,” Heavenly seconded softly. “How old are you, Hudson?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Sixteen.”
That meant… No. Impossible.
But Hudson standing in front of her proved it wasn’t.
She bit back a gasp. Beck, now beside her, didn’t look any less shocked.
“When’s your birthday?” she managed, her voice shaking.
“April twentieth. You mathing, Blondie? I’ll save you the calculation. He was fifteen when he knocked my mom up.”
Seth had been a child when this boy was born. After losing Tristan so tragically, how would he feel about having an almost-grown son? Would it be more than he could take?
Another glance at Beck told her he was wondering the same thing.
Beck frowned. “Is your mother…Mary Jo Bartkowicz?”
Hudson frowned. “Who?”
