Page 105 of With This Ring
Skye tapped her chin. “Well, I guess I need to find you a new boyfriend.”
“Let’s worry about getting the store in order first.”
Skye folded her hands. “I can’t wait.”
***
Hudson sat in the driver’s seat of his car and studied his aunt’s house. After putting the spare tire on his SUV, he had headed straight to Barton Automotive. While he waited for Carter Donovan to fix his tire, he remained in the showroom and flipped through the family album again, contemplating his conversation with Dakota.
As the happy memories he’d carefully avoided for so long stared up at him from the album, he could no longer pretend his aunt and Dakota hadn’t been right. Hehadbeen running away. He’d been trying to escape his childhood grief for his entire life, and for more than seven years, he’d tried to live without Dakota. And when he’d come back to town for Layla, the one person he couldn’t bear to lose, his controlling ways had led to just that. Hehadlost her.
As he took in the happy family photos, he knew deep down he didn’t want to go back to his lonely life in Manhattan or build an even lonelier life in Bahrain. Why hadn’t he been willing toacknowledge how lonely he’d been? He had earned the money that enabled him to take care of his family, so working nonstop was no longer his purpose. He needed a new reason to live. What if it could be to find his own happiness for himself?
It also dawned on him that his pursuit of moneyhadled him to lose his family and Dakota. Even if he didn’t love money, his pursuit of it sure looked like love. And that was why he had to make things right. He had to heal the rift between him and his sister before he lost her forever.
He jogged up the front steps of his aunt’s house and knocked on the storm door.
Aunt Trudy appeared and gasped. “Hudson. You’re back.”
“You were right about everything.” He held his hands up as if in surrender. “I have been too focused on money and success, and I have been running away from my grief for a long time. But I’m not running anymore.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.” His aunt opened the door wider and pulled him in for a tight hug.
“I also need to trust Layla to make her own decisions, and I’m here to do that. I’m going to apologize and tell her that I support her in everything she does. Please let me try to repair things with her.” His throat burned. “I can’t lose my family. You and Layla mean everything to me.”
“I know you’ll fix this. I have faith in you.”
***
Hudson knocked on Layla’s bedroom door. His heart thumped, and his palms began to sweat.
“Who is it?”
He placed a hand on the cold wooden door. “It’s me.”
“Go away.”
He grimaced. “Please, Layla. Let me talk to you.”
“No,” she exclaimed. Something that sounded like a pillow hit the door with a softthunk.
“Okay then,” he said. “I’ll talk here.”
“You can talk, but I’m not listening.”
“Fine.” Hudson took one long, slow cycle of breath to steel himself. “Layla, I remember every detail of the day Mom and Dad brought you home from the hospital. It was late September, but it was as hot as the Fourth of July. Mom and Dad were so overjoyed, and I remember one of the neighbors telling Mom, ‘Daphne, you finally have a girl you can dress in pink and buy dolls for.’”
A vision of that day filled his mind’s eye, and he heard someone sniff. Turning toward the end of the hallway, he found Aunt Trudy wiping her eyes with a tissue.
“You’ve asked me about Mom before. Earlier today I was going through a photo album, and I remembered something you’d want to know. She had an amazing voice,” he said. “And she loved ’80s music. I remember hearing her in your room singing Cyndi Lauper’s ‘Time After Time’ to you every night. Actually, she’d sing it to you whenever you’d cry. If I ever flip to the ’80s station and hear that song, it always takes me back.” He rubbed his eyes. “She had this infectious laugh. No matter how silly her joke was, you couldn’t help but laugh along with her.”
A little sob sounded from inside Layla’s room, and he imagined her wiping away tears.
“From the day you were born, I’ve felt responsible for you, Layla, but it wasn’t a burden,” he continued. “It was a job I wanted. I was determined to be there for you and guide you as best I could. And when Mom and Dad died, I was confused, devastated, and lost, but the one thing I knew for sure was that I wanted to take care of you.” He paused for a moment and swiped his fingers over his wet eyes.
“I thought it was my calling to make sure you had everything you needed—a safe and secure home, clothes, a good education, a reliable car—but I never stopped to think about what you needed emotionally. It never entered my mind that I was hurting you by not talking about Mom and Dad and sharing my grief with you until you brought that to my attention yesterday. I’ve always thought that talking about it would make me seem weak.
“Or maybe I thought that if I let that grief seep out of the depths of my heart, somehow I’d drown in it. And that’s why I’ve been running away from it for so long. I lost Mom and Dad, and then I lost Dakota. For seven years, I’ve been trying to avoid that grief too. I thought that if I kept moving forward, I would outrun it—but instead, I just let it fester. And I pushed away the people I love most.”