She popped her head around the corner from the living room, a huge smile brightening her face. “Hey you.” With her arms held wide, she strode toward him before engulfing him in a hug.
He returned her embrace, breathing in the scent of home, and squeezed her a little tighter. The whole situation with Kenna’s daddy had dredged up some unpleasant memories Hudson would rather forget. Like when his momma had been the one in the hospital bed and he’d been thousands of miles away, desperate to give anything to be by her side.
He was so damn grateful she was still here with them. That he still had someone waiting on him to come home.
“You all right?” she asked.
All he could do was hum in acknowledgment, because what else was there? Somehow, in the short time he’d been home, a hope he’d been valiantly trying to ignore had crept up until it was a constant buzz in the background of his thoughts. The trouble was, it was a hope he couldn’t have. Not now. Not yet.
She gripped his shoulders and held him at arm’s length, looking up into his eyes. “You get Mac all squared away? How’s her daddy doin’?”
“He’s all right. The surgery took longer than expected because of some complication with the bypass, but he was in recovery when we left last night. The doctor seemed to think he’d be back to bein’ an asshole soon enough.”
She gasped and tried to cover up her laughter with a cough. “Hudson Matthew…I can’t believe you said that about a hospital-ridden man.”
Resting his ass against the kitchen counter, he crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. “Him bein’ in the hospital doesn’t change the fact that he’s an ass, Momma. You know it. I know it. The whole damn town knows it.”
“Well.” She clucked her tongue and picked some piece of imaginary lint off the front of his shirt. “Still.”
At his chuckle, she finally broke into a smile. Though it melted from her lips after only a moment as she rested her fingers on his forearm. “And Mac?”
Blowing out a deep breath, he scrubbed a hand down his face. “That’s what I’m here for, actually. I was hopin’ you’d be able to help me with something.”
She pulled out the chair at the dining table and patted the seat next to her. “Let’s see what we can do. What’s goin’ on?”
He spun the other chair around and straddled it backward, resting his folded arms over the top. “She’s stressin’ herself out—puttin’ too much pressure on herself. She thinks she doesn’t bring any value to her family—or anyone, if I was readin’ between the lines correctly.”
“Well, that’s nonsense.”
“That’s what I tried tellin’ her, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“And what’re you hoping to do?”
“I…” He blew out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know. I wanna help her however I can and make her life a little easier, but she’s too damn stubborn to ask for what she needs.”
“You might know another woman like that,” she said dryly, clearly referring to herself. “I hate askin’ for help—”
“You don’t say.”
“Hush now.” She batted her hand at him. “But even without my askin’, your daddy always knew.”
Hudson’s interest was piqued now. While they’d never shied away from talking about his father, it’d been nearly two decades since he’d died, and as the years had passed, the stories became fewer and fewer.
“He did?”
“Mhmm. It was little things, you know? Like always makin’ sure to schedule house or car maintenance so I didn’t have to deal with callin’ to set up appointments. Or never leavin’ me with an empty tank of gas.
“Even when he was deployed, he found ways. I remember one time—it was right after Lilah was born. He’d gotten leave for a couple weeks, and after he left, I had no idea how I was gonna handle two kids under four all by myself. He hadn’t even been gone for twenty-four hours when the first casserole showed up. Roseanne—you remember her? She used to live across the street when y’all were little. Anyway, she claimed friendliness, but when it happened every night for the next month—a different friend or neighbor deliverin’ food each time—I knew it was all him.”
Hudson couldn’t even fathom how difficult it must’ve been for her to take on one hundred percent of the parenting and household responsibilities while his dad was deployed. And yet she’d done it. Without hesitation—or maybe there was hesitation…he wasn’t sure. But she did it, nonetheless. No doubt because she’d loved his dad.
Would Kenna do the same for him?
He cleared his throat, not yet willing to ask that question aloud. “So you’re sayin’ I should give her food.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’msayin’ you should give her what she needs.”
“That’s the whole problem, Momma. Idon’t knowwhat she needs.”
