💖Nicole💖
My stomach churns as we wait, the air thick with tension. Unease pulses through me as I stare at the clock on the wall, watching the hands tick by. Everything is so sterile and clean and unnatural. I'm wedged between Freddie and Jamie, held in place with their huge arms. My leg frantically bounces, expelling the masses of energy I'm accumulating just by being here.
Why the fuck am I here?
I can't even remember. Jamie said something about needing closure and Freddie—I think—is only here to supervise. The pair had approached the matter with caution, asking me if I wanted to join them for today's visit. I hadn't said yes, but I hadn't said no either so here I am, moments away from coming face to face with the man who raised us.
Our fucking dad.
"You okay?" asks Freddie, checking in for the tenth time.
I nod. "You?"
"Fucking peachy," he mumbles, glancing across to Jamie.
He's focused on the table in front of us, gaze vacant. I can tell he's practicing what to say, always so prepared. I personally have no words for the man. Jamie and Freddie had completely different experiences to me. I was ten what he murdered Chloe Morris. I remember not fully understanding the severity of the situation back then. In fact, I was angrier at Freddie for leaving us than I was at our dad. I couldn't comprehend it.
"What's taking so long?" questions Freddie, inpatient.
I'm about to respond when a buzzer sounds, prompting the large electronic door to open. A few men in orange appear, expressions void. Malcolm Hudson emerges, frail and slow. I'm a little stunned to see him like this, unsure what I had been expecting exactly. I last saw him eleven years ago and while under normal circumstances, that wouldn't do a lot to a person's appearance, it seems prison has taken its toll. Not that I have any sympathy for him. He shouldn't be here. He was released two years ago but got sent back when in breech of his parole.
"Fuck me, he looks old," comments Freddie.
Malcolm takes a seat opposite, hands and legs cuffed.
"I was shocked when they told me my children were here to visit," he speaks, voice the texture of gravel. "I haven't seen you in over ten years."
The three of us remain silent, rendered completely speechless.
"Have you come to yell at me?"
Jamie is frozen, incapable to doing what he came here to do. Freddie—much the same—just gawks.
"No," I inform, taking charge. "We've come here to gloat. To tell you how well we're all doing despite your fucked up parenting methods."
Malcolm stares at me, eyes the colour of trees.
"How's prison?" I ask. "You look like shit."
A man sat on the next table along laughs, eyes alive. He's younger than Malcolm, and much prettier. In fact, had he not been in an orange jumpsuit, I wouldn't have believed he was an inmate. Prison has certainly not taken its toll on him, though the longer I stare into his eyes, the more I see. They're hardened. Full of pain. The turquoise colouring almostmasks it, but not enough. He's covered in tattoos, each one telling their own story. A different story.
"I suppose I deserve that," offers Malcolm.
Freddie scoffs. "You deserve a lot more if you ask me."
I pull my focus away from captivating eyes, and stare at Malcolm.
"Do you regret it?" asks Jamie.
Silence settles across the table.
"Answer the damn question," demands Freddie.
Malcolm quivers. "I regret many things."
That's not exactly an answer.
"I regret hurting you."
Freddie refuses his attempts at rectifying the situation, shaking his head.
"I'm sorry, Son."
"I don't need your apology," he assures. "I've already forgiven you."
Malcom visibly swallows, taken aback. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me," insists Freddie. "It wasn't for you. It was for me."
Malcolm frowns, confused.
"Forgiveness isn't about forgetting what the other person did. It's about loving yourself enough to know you deserve to be free."
"Isn't that a bit selfish, Son?"
Freddie—give him his due—remains calm. "Yeah, it is. And I think I'm entitled to be a little selfish from time to time."
Jamie looks up, as though spurred on by Freddie's declaration. I'm proud of him for finally letting go and trust that Ana has something to do with it. She's been undergoing therapy and is big on forgiveness. Her effect on Freddie is exceptional.
"I'm going to be a dad," announces Jamie, staring directly at Malcolm.
"Oh, yeah?"
I sit still, tensing every muscle in my body in the hopes it stops me from shaking. I don't like Malcolm knowing our business and I'm not sure why Jamie would share that with him.
"I thought I needed to come here," he continues. "I thought I needed cleansing before I could be a good dad."
Freddie takes hold of my thigh beneath the table, holding it in place.
"I was wrong."
Holy shit!
"I had an entire speech planned," he admits, laughing. "Of what I wanted to say to you."
"Say it then," encourages Malcolm, leaning back in his chair.
Jamie looks to me, then to Freddie. "Nah, I don't think I will."
Freddie smirks.
"I don't think I'll waste my breath." He stands up, preparing to leave. "Thank you, Malcolm."
"For what?"
"For adopting me."
I have no idea where he's going with this.
"You brought me to these two people here."
He rests his hands on both mine and Freddie's shoulders and I swear we must look like the world's shittest superhero team-up.
"Are you a politician or something?" asks Malcolm. "You look like the type. Your mum always said you could be prime minister one day. I didn't believe her. You were always too preoccupied with reading those silly books of yours."
Jamie chuckles. "No, I'm a professor."
"Of what?"
"Those silly books," he prides.
Malcolm switches his attention to Freddie and narrows his gaze. "What about you?"
"Police officer."
The sound of a chair scraping on the floor cuts through me.
"Careful," warns Malcolm, smirking.
It's the first time he's smiled, and his teeth are stained yellow.
"This one doesn't like police," he informs, gesturing towards tattooed guy. "He killed two of them."
The oxygen rushes from my lungs as tropical blues stare back at me. Those eyes don't look like they belong to a killer. They're too rare. Too... beautiful.
"Charming," replies Freddie.
"Nicole?"
I pry my eyes away from my captive, settling back on Malcolm.
"What do you do now?"
"I'm training to be a therapist."
His lips quirk, incapable of displaying any kind of emotion towards his children's successes. Not that we need validation from a child murderer.
"You've done well for yourselves," he states.
I'm not sure what he's expecting in return. Malcolm Hudson contributed nothing towards our successes. If he's after a 'thank you' he can fuck off.
"Lunch, gang?" asks Jamie, still stood.
Freddie and I nod.
Malcolm watches us stand, neither one of us sparing him a second glance. I do—however—stop at the neighbouring table.
"What's your name?" I ask.
No one is here for the man with many tattoos, and I silently speculate whether no visitors turning up is a regular occurrence.
"Hunter," he replies, voice rich. Delectable. Smooth.
"Hunter," I repeat, losing myself in his gaze again. "Did you kill those two police officers?"
There's a moment of silence before he laughs. "Sure."
He doesn't maintain eye contact and instead, focuses on the wall behind me. Like mine earlier, his leg bounces and I find that extremely telling. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing the ink of his forearms, but I don't look. The thought of doing so is too personal. Too intimate.
"Hunter.' I wait for him to look at me again before I speak. "I don't believe you."
I turn and walk away from the most expressive set of eyes I've ever seen, turquoise now clouding my vision. Freddie and Jamie are already outside and as I join them, I swear there's a beat to my step. A clenching in my stomach. A name in my head.
Hunter.
Hunter.
Hunter.
✨✨✨✨
Hello, lovely!💕
Welcome to the wonderful mind of Nicole Hudson.
I am SO HYPED to be sharing her story with you, but before I do I wanted to say a MASSIVE thank you to everyone who has supported me on Freddie & Ana's journey.
If you haven't already, make sure you read The Professor to experience James & Sloan falling in love. Their book is full of SPICE that I know you'll just love.
Also, don't forget to add Nicole's book to your Wattpad libraries RIGHT NOW!
Because you've all been SO AMAZING in supporting me, here is the gorgeous cover and blurb for...
THE CRIMINAL! 😈
22-year-old Nicole Hudson has it all. Supportive family. Dream job. Incredible friends. But beneath the surface, she's struggling. Battling daily with her self-worth and toxic relationship with food, Nicole must learn to heal herself whilst helping others do the same.
She loves being a therapist, working closely with ex-convicts and current offenders, but questions her ability.
How can someone so tortured support others?
She can't. Or at least that's what her new client—Hunter Scott—seems to think.
He's stubborn.
Obnoxious.
A criminal.
And she might just be falling for him.
***
Tropes:
✨Enemies to lovers.
✨Age gap.
✨Forbidden love.
✨Mafia.
BING IT ON!!
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I LOVE YOU ALL!
Rebecca xo