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His hand spread across my back, holding me with enough strength to make me feel protected without feeling contained. His other slid into my hair near the base of my neck.

I forgot about the pie and the timer. I forgot every sensible reason this could not work.

For several long moments, there was only Hudson and the fact that he wanted me. Not a polished version. Not a more successful future version.

The me that existed now.

When we finally pulled apart, neither of us moved far. His forehead rested against mine. My breathing had become uneven.

So had his.

“That was better than I imagined,” he said.

I laughed softly and kept one hand against his shirt. “We should discuss what this means.”

“Do we have to do it immediately?”

“Probably.”

He smiled. “How responsible of you.”

“I’m trying something new.”

His hand curled at my waist. “What do you want it to mean?”

The question frightened me more than the kiss. I could deflect. Make a joke. Claim uncertainty. Instead, I forced myself to answer honestly. “I want to see where this goes.”

Hudson’s face changed with quiet relief. “So do I.”

“I’m not promising I’ll be good at it.”

“I won’t be either.”

“I may panic.”

“I’ve noticed.”

I narrowed my eyes, though I couldn’t stop smiling. “I don’t want to hurt you, Hudson.”

His hold on me loosened slightly, but he didn’t release me. “I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“What if we do?”

“We probably will at some point,” he admitted.

He didn’t know the half of it.

Hudson touched my chin and brought my attention back to him. “Trying doesn’t mean guaranteeing nothing goes wrong. It means we don’t disappear when something does.”

The sentence reached every vulnerable place inside me. I had built a life around disappearing.

From Missy.

From opportunities.

From conflict.

From anything I couldn’t control.