Apparently just as momentarily stunned by the sight, Aidan pulled up next to him and stopped short, sending snow flying into the air with his edges.
“Wow,” Aidan said.
Yeah. It was a big holy shit moment for Hud too. Not only was Bailey an artist—a hell of one, too—but she’d captured the Kincaid spirit. Her mural was the embodiment of what the mountain meant to them, depicting the love of the entire place in a simple tapestry-like painting of the family tree.
“Really amazing,” Aidan said softly. Reverently.
Speechless, Hud could only nod.
What had once been just a wall that no one had even looked at was now a nearly half-painted mural. It was a gorgeous, epic rendering with vibrant colors that popped. Gray and Penny were… amazingly 3-D. As was the half of Aidan she’d filled in.
This morning he’d been close enough to see some of what she’d planned for him. The bare outline of Hud depicted him in the middle of the sort of ski jump only a superhero could have made, but it had made him smile.
She was having fun with it and fun with them, portraying the family in a way that included their patrons in the joke.
“So what happens when she’s done?” Aidan asked.
The question didn’t help the burning in Hud’s chest. The mural was both a tangible thing and a ticking clock, and the time was already winding down. “She leaves.”
Aidan tore his gaze off the mural and met Hud’s eyes, his own lit with surprising understanding. “Have you told her you don’t want her to?”
Hud looked at him.
“Don’t even try to deny it, man.”
Hud sighed. “I can’t.”
“Can’t?” Aidan asked. “Or won’t?”
“No, I mean can’t.” Hud shook his head. “She just came through what should’ve been a death sentence. Do you get that? She’s lived the past decade of her life thinking that tomorrow wasn’t going to come at all. Ever. Those days and weeks and months and years were spent inside doctors’ offices and hospitals, in cold, white rooms with no sense of joy or hope or anything real.” He stared at the mural. “And then when it was miraculously over, she made a list. A list of things she’d never been allowed to do, things she could only dream about—like painting a mural—and she’s working her way down that list.”
“Cool,” Aidan said. “But what does that have to do with not telling her how you feel?”
“How are you not getting this?” Hud asked. “The mural’s the first thing she’s done from that list. What in the hell kind of guy would I be if I selfishly tell her my feelings and then maybe she ends up staying with me instead of going off and sailing the Greek Islands or learning how to ballroom dance in Rome?”
“The kind of guy who fell in love,” Aidan said. “The kind of guy who could do the list with her because he’s been just as locked up for the past decade as she, making sure everyone in his life gets taken care of except himself.”
Hud stared at him. “Bullshit.”
“No,” Aidan said, taking a step into him now and getting right in his face. Angry. “What’s bullshit is that you think it’s okay for her to go get the life she deserves but you don’t think it for yourself.”
“My life doesn’t lend itself to relationships.”
“Look at that—even more bullshit,” Aidan said, not impressed. “I mean, yeah, you’ve got a lot going on. And more responsibilities than you know what to do with. But your family’s standing right here at your six, man, willing and able to take more on to ease some of it. All you have to do is let go.”Hud thought of his mom. How was he supposed to pass off the burden of her care? She was his mom. And then there was Jacob. Wherever the hell he was, Hud was going to find him, but that was on him. Just as he was Carrie’s son, he was Jacob’s twin. And as for Gray and Aidan, he already was more indebted to them than he could ever pay back for taking in his little family of three when they’d had nothing. Plus, they all had their own shit to deal with. Shit Hud could and would help with because they’d done so much for him. But no way in hell would he add to their burdens. “It’s not that easy to let go,” he said.
“Yes, it is,” Aidan insisted. “The people in your life, the very people that you’re counting now in your head as responsibilities, they don’t have to be a burden to you. We don’t want to be a burden to you.”
“You’re not,” Hud said.
“Yeah? Then prove it. You’re standing right here telling me Bailey can’t love you because she has too much to do, but we both know you’re the one who feels that way. You won’t let yourself love.”
“Will you stop with the love shit?” Hud asked. “I’ve got more important stuff than to worry about that right now.”
“Jacob, right?” Aidan asked. “But Jacob’s gone, man. He’ll come back when he’s good and ready, and not a second before. That’s not on you, Hud. You don’t have to put your life on hold just because he’s gone.”
Hud closed his eyes. “Yes, I do.”
“Why?” Aidan demanded.
“Because it’s my fault he’s gone.” Hud swallowed hard and shook his head at the memory of his harsh words. He was still able to perfectly see, even after all this time, the look of shock and hurt on Jacob’s face.
“Hud,” Aidan said with shocking gentleness. “No one blames you.”
“I blame me,” Hud said tightly. He opened his eyes and met Aidan’s confused ones. “There’s no one else to blame.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“The last words I said to him were ‘we’re no longer brothers.’”
Aidan stared at him for a beat and then sighed. “You were angry—”
“No excuse.”
“You were hurt—”
“So was he,” Hud said.
Aidan put his hand on Hud’s shoulder. “Listen to me very carefully because I’m only going to say this once so you need to really hear me.” He paused. “What happened was every bit as much Jacob’s fault as yours. It was,” he reiterated when Hud opened his mouth to speak. “You’ve got to stop beating the shit out of yourself over it. More than that, you have to forgive yourself.”
“Yeah? And why is that?” Hud asked.
“Because wherever Jacob is right now? He’s forgiven you.”
Hud stared at him, wanting to believe that was true. “How do you know?”
“I know,” Aidan said in a voice of steel. “I ever tell you about the time I crashed Gray’s truck?”
“You never crashed Gray’s truck.”
Aidan laughed mirthlessly. “Wrong. I was fourteen and a real punk-ass, too, just like you. No doubt it’s in the Kincaid genes. Just one more thing to thank our dad for, right?” He shook his head. “Anyway, Gray had just gotten a truck. He’d saved for a couple of years, from even before he could drive. And he loved it more than he did girls, if that tells you anything. He was fixing it up every night after school and work. I wanted to help, but he wouldn’t let me. He told me to keep my grimy hands off it.”