Point Of No Return

Chapter 10: Resonance

Then, the front door swung open again. And Hudson walked in.

The air seemed to shift the second he stepped inside. He was dressed in a dark sweater and a jacket, his hands shoved into his pockets, his posture relaxed yet unreadable. His gaze flicked over the room, taking in the unfamiliar space, scanning faces—until his eyes landed on mine.

For a single, breathless second, everything in me stilled.

His gaze didn't linger, didn't shift into anything I could hold onto, but it was enough. Enough to remind me that it had been a month since I last saw him. Enough to send a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

And then, as quickly as it had happened, his gaze flicked away. Like it hadn't been a month since we last saw each other. Like he hadn't ruined me the last time he spoke.

I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to move, to act normal, to not let him get in my head again. But the truth settled deep in my bones, undeniable and frustrating.

I was already failing.

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"I can't believe we just missed each other," Mrs. Reed was saying, shaking her head as she reached for her wine glass. "Adam would have loved to meet Charlotte and James."

The dining room buzzed with conversation, the clatter of silverware against plates mixing with the familiar warmth of overlapping voices. It was easy to pretend nothing had changed, that this was just another dinner, that the past month hadn't stretched between me and Hudson like something tangible.

"Christmas," Mrs. Whitman said, smiling as she passed a dish across the table. "They'll all be here then, right?"

Mrs. Reed nodded, her expression softening. "Adam's already excited. He hasn't been home since summer."

I poked at my food, half-listening, half-not. I wasn't focused on Christmas. I was focused on Hudson. Or rather, I was focused on not focusing on him. Which, frankly, was harder than I liked to admit.

Act normal. Don't be weird. Don't think about the last dinner. Don't think about how he looked at you. How his touch felt.

I was so caught up in trying not to think about him that I barely realized Finn was talking to me.

"—so, Amara, what do you think? Does Alex stand a chance, or should we start placing bets against him?"

I blinked, my mind scrambling to catch up. "What?"

Finn smirked, clearly enjoying my disorientation. "Mario Kart. We're playing after dinner. Alex says he's gonna wipe the floor with us."

Alex scoffed, reaching for his drink. "Because I am."

Finn turned back to me, his smirk widening. "So, what do you say, Lawson? Think our dear friend Whitman can take me down, or should I start collecting everyone's money now?"

I exhaled, shaking my head. "I'm staying out of this one. I got into enough trouble last time."

Finn gasped, clutching his chest in mock betrayal. "You wound me."

Alex leaned back, smirking. "She just knows better than to bet against me."

Finn scoffed. "Doubtful." His foot nudged mine under the table. "C'mon, Lawson. You have to play."

Isaac perked up at that, setting his fork down with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Yeah, you can't just not play."

Across the table, Grayson nodded eagerly, his face lighting up. "Please play. Finn needs to lose."