but I rush forward and grab a banana from the fruit bowl on the counter. Pulling my arm back behind my head, I launch the fruit at the mass of a man as hard as I can. “What the fuck?” The voice that fills the dark kitchen is deep and scratchy and— Oh. I’ve definitely heard it before. Hudson spins around with a cup in his hand, and I’m not too humiliated to register relief that it’s not, in fact, an intruder. “Madeline?”
