Beck leaned forward, his voice deadly calm. “Is that what your mom told you?”
“Not in so many words,” Hudson admitted, his posture defensive.
“So you’re making assumptions?” Beck pressed. “I’m one of his best friends. I’m telling you now, I don’t think Seth ever knew your mom was pregnant, so stop assuming he’s a steaming pile of?—”
Heavenly’s hand on his arm stopped him mid-sentence. He glanced her way, at the plea in her eyes for him to dial it back. He sighed. She was right. Hudson’s attitude was annoying as fuck, but he was just a lost kid.
Like Beck had once been.
Heavenly sent Hudson a soft stare. “Beck is right. I don’t think Seth has any idea you exist.”
“Whatever,” the boy drawled, but Beck caught the way his shoulders sagged slightly, as if some of the fight had left him.
The doorbell rang.
They settled around the kitchen table with their takeout containers. Beck watched Hudson try not to look impressed by the spread—orange chicken, lo mein, fried rice, and spring rolls.
“So,” Heavenly said, breaking the silence. “What kind of music are you into?”
Hudson shrugged, digging into his orange chicken. “Rap mostly. Travis Scott, Kendrick, some drill music.”
“Seth likes classic rock,” Beck offered. “But I’ve heard him listen to hip hop.”
“Hmm.” Hudson shrugged like he didn’t care, but Beck bet he was filing away the information.
“What about sports?” Heavenly asked. “Do you play anything?”
“Football and baseball. Made varsity teams in both as a sophomore.” There was a hint of pride in Hudson’s voice before he caught himself. “I’m a decent pitcher and an all-star receiver.”
“Do you have a favorite pro team?” Beck asked.
“The Yankees. Obviously.” Hudson shot him a look like he was an idiot. “Best team out there.”
“Seth is a Yankees fan too,” Heavenly said with a smile.
Hudson’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. “Yeah?”
“When he lived in New York, he went to games with his brothers. He moved to LA this past February. I’m sure he’s sad he missed this season.”
Beck watched something flicker across Hudson’s face—interest, maybe even longing—before he banked it.
“Cool,” Hudson mumbled. “I guess.”
“Got friends back home?” Beck asked.
“A few. Most of those kids are fucktards.”
Heavenly did her best to hide her grimace. “How about…a girlfriend?”
Hudson snorted. “Fuck no. The girls in Cromwell are either stupid, skanky, or boring as fuck. No thanks.”
So the kid felt like an outsider. Beck changed the subject again. “You have your license?”
“Yeah.” Hudson’s expression turned sullen. “Had to take the test twice though. Parallel parking’s a bitch.”
After that, quiet fell. They ate, the earlier tension starting to ease. Hudson even helped himself to seconds, though he tried to be casual about it.
“This is…actually pretty good,” he admitted grudgingly. “Almost as good as the Chinese place back home.”
