Chapter 228

Nova's POV

Hudson looked between us and his face did what it always did when he sensed something was off. It crumpled.

I stepped forward. "Give him to me."

Caden transferred him without argument.

Hudson lasted maybe four seconds in my arms before he decided he'd had enough of that. He arched his back and pushed at my chest with both fists, twisting toward Caden with a persistence that was frankly insulting. I tightened my hold and tried the low soothing voice that usually worked.

It did not work.

Caden murmured something, some soft nonsense he'd apparently developed specifically for this purpose, and Hudson's crying dropped to hiccups almost immediately. His arm stretched out, fingers opening and closing in that grabby way he had.

Caden offered his index finger. Hudson seized it like it was the most important thing in the room, which apparently it was, and went quiet.

So there we stood. Hudson in my arms, Caden's hand bridging the gap between us whether either of us wanted it there or not.

I stared at my son's profile and kept my face very still. I knew why he did it. It was biological, medical, nothing personal about it. Dr. Reeves had explained it twice and I'd understood both times.

Still. Of all the nights for Hudson to make his preferences loudly and unmistakably clear, he'd picked this one. Right after I'd spent two hours running through Shadowcrest territory trying to outpace the day I'd had.

Brilliant timing, kid.

Caden's arm was warm against mine. I was acutely aware of it and annoyed at myself for being aware of it, and annoyed at Hudson for engineering this situation, which was irrational because he was one year old and operating entirely on instinct. I was aware of all of that and it didn't help in the slightest.

Hudson's eyes were already going heavy. His grip on Caden's finger loosened by degrees as sleep pulled him under.

Neither of us moved. Moving meant waking him and starting the whole performance over again.

"I'm not going to apologize again," Caden said, quietly enough that it wouldn't carry. "You've already heard it."

I said nothing.

"What I did was take a decision that was yours and make it myself. I told myself it was about keeping you safe." He paused. "But it was also about control. If I managed the situation, I could manage what happened. I've been doing that our whole marriage and I don't always catch it until someone's already paying for it."

I kept my eyes on Hudson. The thing about that was, it was accurate. Not a performance of accountability, not the version men gave when they wanted to be forgiven. He'd actually identified the thing correctly.

I wasn't sure what to do with that.

When Hudson's breathing went deep and even, I transferred him carefully to the crib. Caden stepped back to give me room and when I straightened he'd moved to the far side of the room, which I appreciated more than I was going to tell him.

"I'm still angry," I said.

"I know."

"Understanding why you did it doesn't make it okay."

"No," he agreed. "It doesn't."

I looked at him properly. He looked worn out in a way that had nothing to do with the hour. Good, said a small mean part of me. Then I felt petty for thinking it, then annoyed at myself for feeling petty, and the whole internal cycle was exhausting.

"If any version of this is going to function," I said, "you tell me things. Even when you've decided I won't like them. Especially then. That's not negotiable."

"Agreed."

"That includes the attack yesterday." I held his gaze. "Whatever your team finds, whoever was behind it, you tell me. Every detail. You don't filter it, you don't sit on it until you've decided how to handle it. I find out the same time you do."

Something moved across his face. Not resistance. More like the particular discomfort of a man being asked to do the thing he was worst at. "Understood."

"I mean it, Caden."

"I know you do." He said it simply, no pushback, no qualifications. "You'll know everything I know. As it happens."

I held his gaze a moment longer, then let it go.

"I'm not standing here pretending I've been completely straight with you either," I said. "I kept things from you during our marriage. Things you had a right to know." I wasn't spelling it out tonight. He was smart enough to understand what I meant and I wasn't ready for that conversation, not after today. "So this isn't only on you."

Caden was quiet for a moment. He looked at Hudson in the crib, then back at me. He didn't ask me to explain it. Didn't push or fish for more. Just absorbed it and nodded once.

That restraint cost him something. I could see it.

"Okay," he said.

I picked up the baby blanket that had slipped to one side and tucked it back around Hudson, mostly so I had somewhere to look.

"I'm going to bed."

He crossed to the door ahead of me and held it open. I walked through without looking at him.

"Goodnight, Nova."

I stopped. Just for a second. Then I kept walking.

Halfway down the hallway I stopped again. Some reflex toward fairness, maybe, or just the fact that I was tired of carrying things heavier than they needed to be.

"For what it's worth," I said, my back still to him, "I believe you've been trying to find him. I just needed you to tell me that yourself."

He didn't answer straight away. When he did, his voice was rough around the edges. "I know."

I went to my room.

I lay on top of the covers in the dark and stared at the ceiling and thought about Hudson's arm stretching toward his father, that absolute certainty in those tiny reaching fingers. I thought about my plan from the woods, the distance, the counting down.

I was still leaving when Hudson was stable. That part hadn't changed.

But something approaching honesty was apparently possible in the meantime. Not forgiveness. Not even close to that.

Just the only thing I had left to offer tonight.