Down Came the Rain (NOW FREE!)

Epilogue

Eighteen Months Later

"I think that's everything." Ebony's gaze moved over the room, the simple gesture leaving a trail of finality behind it. "How do you feel?"  

Hudson took in a breath and surveyed the apartment, knowing it would be the last time she'd ever see the inside again. The hardwood floors were bare, devoid of the purple suede furniture that had once called it home, and the cream-colored walls where her paintings had hung were now barren and cold. Industrial. Unlived in. Empty. Her eyes connected with her friend's, who'd been studying her with an expression she couldn't read for much of the afternoon. Happiness? Sympathy? Unease? Maybe all three. "I'm good. Ready to say goodbye."

Ebony's brows arched. "You're sure?"

Was she really ready? It was a question she'd asked herself countless times over the past several weeks. There were a lot of memories haunting the space between those walls. Some good, some bad. Some too hazy around the edges to make out. But it was time to leave. Time to let go of the past and focus on the future. Time to forget how dark the dark can be. Again. "I'm positive," she finally said. Her lips curved into a smile. "I'm really, truly ready."

And she meant it.

Her friend visibly relaxed, her shoulders releasing the tension they'd been carrying. Ebony had worried the move might facilitate a mental breakdown of sorts. And who could blame her? Though she hadn't admitted those feelings out loud, she didn't need to. As close as they'd become over the past year and a half, Hudson could easily read the worry lines creasing the woman's forehead.

"I am so happy to hear you say that. I was afraid—" Ebony hesitated and shook her head, as if dismissing a thought. "Well, it doesn't matter, I guess. All that matters now is the wedding and moving you into your new house." Her mouth spread into a wide grin. "Frank and I are thrilled you and Myles will be living so close. And the twins are over the moon! You should have heard Eli and Mia talking last night, making plans to have a sleepover in that beautiful, new family room of yours! Frank warned them not to invite themselves over, but I'm sure it went in one ear and right out the other. So, I'm gonna apologize in advance for the fools they're about to make of themselves."

Hudson laughed as a satisfying warmth engulfed her chest. "Myles and I love the kids. They're welcome to come over any time they'd like. Slumber parties and all. They're a joy to have around. I promise."

The confession snagged at something in her stomach. The sensation spiraled chaotically, even though she tried to ignore it. Having children of her own had always been Hudson's dream, but after everything that had happened, and everything that could still happen, she wasn't sure bringing babies into the world would be the smartest thing to do. All of the what if's sometimes kept her awake at night, dwelling and praying she could keep her shit together. She'd done it before and knew she could do it again, but this time the stakes were much higher if things went awry.

When Myles first proposed earlier in the year, she'd said no. It wasn't that she didn't love him—quite the opposite, in fact. She couldn't imagine loving anyone more. He'd been a saint the way he'd kept vigil throughout her latest medical ordeal, going above and beyond what any normal person would do. Supporting her, holding her hand, letting her scream and cry and throw tantrums whenever she'd felt the urge. And even after seeing her at her worst—her absolute ugliest—he still fell in love. Perhaps he's the crazy one? But he'd proven that love time and time again. Hudson owed him so much, including her life. So, how could she possibly condemn him to her unstable world forever? Myles would make a wonderful husband, and the idea of him holding their newborn children in his arms hurt her in a way little else ever had. It was a soul-searing kind of pain, knowing she would never—could never—be the wife and mother to his children that he, more than anyone she'd ever known, deserved.