I want to believe him.
I want to believe there’s a way out of this prison, in a future where I get to choose…make my own decisions. But I can feel the cage, the weight of every expectation, every rule pressing down on me. “I don’t know how,” I admit. “I don’t even know what I would do if I had that kind of freedom.”
He’s silent for a long moment.
“Well…you make the most of what you do have,” he finally says. “You take every scrap of time they haven’t locked down, and you make it yours. And when the door opens, even just a tiny bit, you run like hell.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “What if I’m not fast enough?”
He grins. “Then you let someone help you.”
There are so many unspoken words in his eyes: promise, warning, something that looks too much like hope. I shiver, not from fear, but from want.
We talk about my classes, my favorite books, the way I always wanted to attend a real college campus and live in a dorm, drink bad coffee, and stay up too late with friends. He tells me stories from when he was young, how he joined the military to get away from a small town that never wanted him.
There’s pain in his voice, but I can also see pride, maybe, or relief that he survived.
By the time we finish, the sun is setting, painting gold stripes across my carpet. I realize I’ve eaten everything on the plate. For the first time in months, the weight on my chest has lifted, and I’ve finally remembered how to breathe.
He stands to leave, but I reach out, grabbing his hand before he can move away.
“Hudson?”
He stops, looks down at me, all that strength and danger wrapped up in a single glance.
“Thank you.” My voice is small but strong. “Thank you for caring and reminding me I’m not invisible.”
He squeezes my fingers. “You could never be invisible, Ivory.”
He leaves me with that, the echo of his words bright and warm in my chest. I watch him go, and for the first time, I let myself believe.Maybe freedom isn’t just a dream. Maybe, with Hudson by my side, I can be brave enough to reach for it.
I turn back to my laptop, fingers hovering over the keys. And now, finally, the words come easy.
After dinner, a strange, nervous restlessness takes hold of me. The room feels too small, my skin too tight, every nerve straining for something I can’t quite put a finger on. I’m aware of Hudson in the other room; his footsteps, the low rasp of his voice when he answers a call, the sound of him moving through the suite like he belongs there.
There’s a gentle knock, then Hudson opens the door, poking his head in with that half smile that always makes me ache.
“You look like you’re about to crawl out of your skin,” he says, his voice teasing.
Maybe I am.
“I am. Let’s do something. I don’t want to be in this room anymore.”
He studies me, head tilted, like he’s trying to see past my words. “Name it. What do you want to do right now?”
It takes me a second to answer. I’m not good at expressing what I want out loud. I’ve never been given the option. Buttonight, I want to. “Isn’t there a pool on the roof? I’ve never been. Could we… go there? Just us?”
For a moment, he hesitates, and my heart pounds, afraid he’ll say it’s too dangerous or too late, that I need to play it safe. But then he nods.
“Hell yeah. Let’s go break some rules.”
I laugh, a little breathless, and grab my swimsuit from the drawer. It’s a simple black one-piece, very modest, high-necked, the only kind my father approves of. I wish it were something sexier, something that would make him look twice. But when I step out of the bathroom, Hudson’s gaze travels over me, and the hunger in his brown eyes transforms my anxiety into a warm, liquid confidence that sits heavy in my belly.
We take the elevator all the way up to the roof, where we step out to find ourselves alone.
Thank goodness.
No one to judge. No one to see.
