I smile. “Arlo helped. I’d be lost in the kitchen without him.”
Hudson laughs. “The boy always had a knack for cooking.”
As I sit down, Arlo wraps his arm around my waist,tugging me closer to himself. Hudson smirks when he sees it but chooses not to comment on it.
“How have you been, Hudson?”
His eyes soften at the question, and for the first time, I can truly see how worn out he is. “I’ve seen better days.”
I remain silent, not knowing what to say. What does one say to a man who’s in prison, without knowing when he’ll be released?
“I can tell,” Arlo interjects. “You look like shit.”
“I may look like shit, but I can still beat the shit out of you.”
Arlo looks thoroughly amused. “Can you?” He teases. “Because from where I’m standing, you don’t seem like you remember how to throw a punch.”
“You little,” Hudson hisses, then pauses, taking a deep breath and calming himself down. “Did you come all the way here to piss me off?”
“No,” Arlo drawls out. “We also came to bring you the lasagna.”
I push the bag toward Hudson, and he takes a peek inside, nodding in satisfaction. “Thank you. I don’t remember the last time I had homemade meals.”
“We have fifteen minutes left,” Arlo points out, and Hudson nods. “You know we’re not here to chit-chat.”
Hudson straightens up, putting the bag of food next to him. His expression is stoic, all amusement and happiness vanishing. He looks between Arlo and me for a moment, then speaks.
“Go on.”
“We’re taking out Woods tonight.”
Hudson sucks in a sharp breath. “Alright. What of Flint?”
“He’s next,” Arlo quickly responds. “Killing Woods will make Flint get sloppy.”
Hudson hums. “Yes, quite possibly.”
“How’s Simmons doing?” I ask, and both of the men turn to look at me.
The older De Santis pauses for a moment, eyes narrowing a fraction. He looks for the right words, and after a beat of silence, he responds, his voice low and slower than usual.
“Physically? Fine. I managed to deter everyone from harming him too much. They’re hitting him around just enough to get the point across. He’s always with two guards, who are, undoubtedly, his men.”
“Has he created any issues for you?”
Hudson lifts a brow. “Why do you think my knuckles are bandaged?”
Arlo snorts. “I don’t even want to know. But the main reason we came here today is to ask for your permission.”
“No, absolutely not.”
“You didn’t even—”
Hudson cuts him off, pointing a finger at him. “No, you two cannot get married while I’m in here.”
Silence that follows is deafening. My eyes widen in pure shock, unable to comprehend how he came to the conclusion we’d marry. We will, one day. But with everything going on, marriage didn’t cross my mind even once.
“That’s not what I meant,” Arlo groans, exasperated.
