Hud was still staring at the door. He shook his head. What just happened?
“In a nutshell?” Gray asked, making Hud realize he’d spoken out loud. “You told the woman you love that you don’t love her.”
“And then you missed your opportunity to take it back,” Kenna said. “The window for those things is really short. It’s like the three-second rule when you drop food. You have three seconds to pick it up and eat it or you have to throw it away, even if it’s a cookie.” She shook her head. “You threw it all away, Hud.”
He opened his mouth and then shut it and turned to Penny, the only logical one in the room.
She smiled at him sadly. “I’m afraid they’re right this time. This one time…”
Bailey went straight to the mural. Her security blanket. She’d just gotten to the base of the wall and climbed up to the second level of scaffolding when she felt someone right behind her. She turned and faced—perfect—Hud. Because what had just happened wasn’t humiliating enough.
“Bailey—”
“No,” she said, pointing at him, voice shaking with the depths of her fury. “Don’t. You don’t have to say anything, I get it.”
She was just glad she hadn’t spilled her guts in the past two weeks, revealed any more of her feelings for him. That was her saving grace, she told herself. He had no idea how much he’d hurt her and it was going to stay that way.
He studied her for a beat and she didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t the words that came out of his mouth.
“I told you I wouldn’t regret what we shared,” he said, his words insidiously quiet, his voice flat.
She hated that most of all. “That you did,” she agreed. Hell if she’d thank him for it. She had to fight to keep her expression just as nonexistent as his—not easy when her heart had been cracked in half. “How nice for you to be able to turn your feelings on and off so easily,” she managed coolly.
He didn’t answer, not that she’d expected him to. She concentrated on dragging air in and out of her lungs until she no longer had the urge to cry. Because no way would she allow him to see her weak. She was going to stand strong if it was the last thing she did. Turning away from him, she faced the mural.
But Hud didn’t go. She ignored him for as long as she could, which wasn’t very long. The weak winter sun behind them cast their shadows on the mural, his a lot taller and broader than hers. “You’re in my light,” she said.
“We need to talk.”
She glanced over her shoulder. He was in ski patrol gear, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes. His expression was dialed to dark and brooding, and his shoulders were set in grim determination. “I think we’ve talked enough,” she said.
His jaw tightened. “You misunderstood what I was saying to Penny.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” she said, concentrating on her painting. She was on the very last part, finishing up the caricature of Jacob. She’d decided to put him in an airplane, flying past the mountains painted behind him with his eyes on the horizon, a very small smile playing about his mouth. Then she spent some time filling in the heart and soul to the piece.
Her heart and soul.
“You said you couldn’t be pushed away,” he said quietly. “You said that to me. Was it a lie?”
She stilled and stared sightlessly at the mural in front of her, telling herself not to react to the… disappointment?… in his voice. “I need you to move a few feet to the left,” she managed.
“That would take me right off the scaffold.”
“Yes,” she said.
And then she went on painting, her heart in her throat. She heard his radio go off at his hip, then heard him respond that he was offline.
She sucked in a breath at that. But whoever was calling for him was insistent and the call was an emergency, which had her sucking in another breath.
Someone was hurt.
“Bay,” he said quietly. “I have to go.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to.”
This she didn’t answer. She told herself she was absolutely not listening for him to climb down and leave her alone. Not even a little bit. To ensure it, she pulled her earphones from her pocket, slid them into her ears, cranked the music on her phone, and tried to cancel out the real world.
But two minutes later she couldn’t stand it anymore and turned to face him.
He was gone.
She forced air into her lungs and nodded to herself, acknowledging that she’d done this, and kept painting. When it got dark, she didn’t stop. She didn’t go to bed.
She kept painting. She figured she had maybe six hours left on the mural and she was going to finish tonight if it killed her.
It nearly did. She stayed up all night and finished just before dawn, and it was worth it. As she stepped back to take it all in with the day’s first light, it caught her breath.
It’d come out better than she could have imagined.
Which didn’t ease the pain in her gut.
Or her heart.