Chapter 18
Liv
Hudson’s gaze stayed locked on mine, and it was almost like I could see into his thoughts, the worry that sat over them, the same that continued to infect mine.
But there was nothing stopping us this time, nothing but ourselves and lives that didn’t fit together like they would have if I’d given up my inheritance and let my brother down.
If I’d chosen Hudson, what would our lives have looked like?
Neither of us with money, chasing a dream.
A farmhouse with our children running through the yard while we sat on the porch holding hands and drinking lemonade.
That was someone else’s life, not ours, and dreams that had belonged to two teenagers who hadn’t wanted to admit that our circumstances were too convoluted to ever allow the dream to find fruition.
He looked away, breaking the moment, and walked over to where the notepad had fallen.
Buttoning my jeans, I noted how my fingers were still trembling.
Hudson had a way of working my body that left me a puddle of mush.
Heat rose in my neck when I thought of how he’d just taken me out in the open without a care.
“These are really good,” he said, and my eyes refocused to see him flipping through the notebook.
I rubbed my cheek, the instinct to protect myself, to not let my vulnerability show, skittering across my skin. Swallowing back the biting words that bubbled in my throat, I said, “Thank you.”
Drawing was something I had loved until my father had told me it was a waste and no Icinda wasted time on frivolous things like art.
We could appreciate it and buy it, but we never made it.
Still, I would draw in the sand when our mother took us down to the beach.
I could still remember her praises, how she would smile before the depression and our father stole her.
“But this isn’t a sketchpad. When we’re in town next, we’ll get you a real drawing pad, not this.”
“It’s fine,” I said, taking it from him and closing it, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “It’s not like I’ll ever do it once I return to the city.”
My words hung in the air, their reality like a slap in the face. Hudson’s eyes dimmed, pain marring his expression before he turned from me. “Get your boots on. I’m taking you riding.” The words were terse and rough, a reminder of how he’d been when I first arrived.
“So having me bend over the deck railing wasn’t your reason for coming out here?” I asked playfully, hoping we could return to the moments before.
He glanced over his shoulder, a smirk replacing his grimace. “That was a detour in my plans. A nice detour.”
I followed him through the house, tugging my boots on as he stepped into his.
Cowboy boots and jeans. My stylist would have a heart attack, and my favorite boutiques would likely ban me if I ever showed up like this.
There was something comforting about it, like slipping into a soft pair of pajamas.
Not those horrible snowman ones Tori made me wear for Christmas, though.
I swore sometimes Gabe put her up to that just to see me squirm.
I couldn’t fathom what he’d say if he saw me now.
My hands stopped, the boot halfway up my leg.
Gabe would never judge me. He never had.
Of all the people in this world, he was the only one who understood.
It seemed odd that we were so close yet a distance stood between us.
A physical one. There were no hugs in our family, nothing like Tori’s. No exchanges of emotion.
“Hey.”
My eyes jumped to Hudson, and I staggered, my awkward position of holding one leg in the air while my mind wandered finally catching up to me.
His arm came out to steady me, his eyes creasing with worry. “You okay?”
“Just thinking,” I said, pulling the boot on the rest of the way.
“About?” He leaned his hip on the door, crossing his arms.
Sighing, I said, “My brother.” A quirk of his brow had me shaking my head and continuing, “About our relationship.”
The quirk didn’t disappear. “So I take you hard on the deck and you start thinking about your brother?”
“Don’t be gross.” I shoved him, but he caught my hand and tugged me against him.
“Then what were you thinking since your mind wasn’t on that mind-blowing orgasm I just gave you?”
My head tipped, and I studied him, seeing the playful sparkle in his eyes that had erased the worry from earlier. “Mind blowing?” His scowl had me reaching up and pulling his lips to mine. Kissing him, I mumbled, “Definitely mind-blowing.”
“That’s better. Now tell me what you were thinking about.”
I propped myself against his chest, staring at his neckline, but he forced my attention back to his face.
“Just thinking about his reaction to me wearing jeans and everyday clothes.”
He drew back, eyebrows stitching together. “Why would that be an issue for your brother?”
“It wouldn’t. Although I’m sure he’d tease me about it for months.” My fingers played in his hair as I continued. “He’d be happy that I was relaxing. But as close as we are…”
I stopped, unsure how to voice my thoughts about my relationship with my brother.
“But what?”
“I guess our past, our upbringing, and our father put a distance between us that will always be there.”
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and asked, “What does that mean?”
I blew out a sigh and stepped back, intending to free myself of his hold and this conversation.
“No, you don’t,” he said, dragging me back to him.
“Let me go, Hudson. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You don’t like talking about it. There’s a difference. You think I don’t notice how you close yourself off, build your walls back when you get too close to your emotions?”
“It’s a necessity.”
“Not here, it’s not.”
I wiggled, trying to escape his hold, but he wouldn’t relent. Giving up, I dropped my head against his chest and inhaled his scent. Leather and hay. Calming.
“I can’t be soft,” I admitted in a quiet breath.
His fingers tangled in my hair, and he lifted my face. Serious eyes looked back at me. “You can be with me, Olivia. You don’t have to be strong.”
“I always have to be strong.”
“Not with me. Let me be your strength, the one who carries the weight for you.”
Something cracked in my chest, like the splitting of a boulder, its remnants crumbling to dust. The breath I drew was ragged, painful even, and tears pressed behind my eyes.
“But you can’t always—”
“I will always be that for you.”
A tear broke free, splashing over my lashes and down my cheek. “Always?”
“Always,” he replied, sweeping it away before kissing the place where it had been. “Now tell me what you were going to say about your brother.”
Resting my hands on his chest, I dug deep, past the hesitation, my father’s warnings that emotion had no place in our lives, past the shields I’d raised with every hand he’d raised to Gabe and every targeted insult he’d thrown at me.
Taking a breath, I exhaled, letting Hudson’s strength fortify me and his large arms keep me safe.
Allowing myself to voice the things I never had.
“When we were little, I would hold him. Mama would sit me on her lap, and I would curl into her with Gabe in my arms and marvel at how much I loved him. He was my little brother, and he was amazing. I would peek at him as I played with my dolls. He was so sharp, so smart and curious. We were close even when our father tried to put distance between us. His abuse only seemed to bring us closer together. Gabe would crawl into my bed on bad nights, and I would hold him, my heart breaking that I couldn’t stop his pain.
” I wiped my nose on the back of my hand, dropping my eyes to where my fingers picked at a rough spot on his shirt.
“And I would run to his room on stormy nights. He would break his flashlight out and read me a book until the storm passed.” I sniffed, hating how the memories brought a pain that was so raw.
“But Mama started spiraling, and Father’s temper worsened, and as we got older, the distance he wanted formed.
By the time I went to college, it was pronounced.
I still loved him, but saying it seemed too difficult, showing it even harder.
We were too busy walking on eggshells, worrying about Mama’s fragile mental state and avoiding pissing our father off. ”
Glancing up at him, I found his eyes on me, keen and gentle.
“When Mama died, it was like the last pieces of the bridge between us crumbled. Our relationship became business first. Revenge took its hook and sank it into us. And when I broke up with you, I shut the last access to my emotions off. By the time he returned to the city and left Tori, there was nothing left to us but that cold distance neither of us knew how to cross.”
Hudson let the silence spread, waiting for me to say more, but it hurt too much to admit that so much had changed. That I’d been alone for so long, I no longer knew how to be anything but that.
A kiss to my forehead had me closing my eyes and soaking it in. “Tell him how you feel, Olivia.”
“I can’t.” The words came out as broken fragments. “I don’t know how to.”
Drawing back, he brushed his knuckles over my cheek. “What do you want to do?”
The question left me quiet, the potential too far to contemplate until the words slipped from my mouth. “I want to tell him I love him. To tell him how proud I am. To hug him again.”
“Then do that.”
“I can’t.” I dropped my eyes again. “I don’t remember the last time we hugged.”
“Olivia.”
My eyes jumped to his.
“I haven’t seen my brother in two years. If he were here, I would hug him every day and tell him I love him. Fuck, I tell him every time I talk to him. He’s the only one who keeps me grounded. Tell your brother you love him and for fuck’s sake, hug the man.”
“I’m not a hugger.”
He pulled me closer, the grip of his arms tight around my body, and nuzzled his face into my neck. “That’s because you stopped being one.”