Chapter 43
Andilyn
After a rough night with Hudson, we spend our Monday morning traveling to Covey, hoping Dr. Taggart will have some constructive feedback for us.
We keep having these minor regressions where Hudson has the best day, but then night falls, and he becomes inconsolable.
I understand that grief isn’t linear, but I have this deep-seated fear that something more is going on.
My anxiety is through the roof as of late, and I’m unsure if that can be chalked up to the impending changes that are about to happen once the baby arrives, or this sense of foreboding I can't seem to shake. When I belonged to Veritas, trusting my gut was necessary for my survival, but now that I’m no longer in a life-or-death situation, I’m hesitant to voice my worry.
I don’t want to taint every moment going forward by seeing it through the scarred lens of my past.
“Angel,” Briggs calls, halting my wayward thoughts.
The chatter of other parents finally registers as we patiently wait for Hudson’s session to finish.
“You’re looking a bit stressed. Fancy a trip to the bathroom?
” He quirks an eyebrow, a cocky grin morphing his already-handsome face into something decadently dark.
My cheeks heat in remembrance, knowing the day we finally caved to our baser instincts was the catalyst for everything else.
“The bathroom,” Col deadpans, looking between the two of us with suspicion.
I’m sure his brilliant brain is already analyzing the off-handed comment I made when I walked in on him, fresh from a shower, and we became intimately acquainted with one another’s bodies.
It would seem I have a knack for collecting orgasms while in the presence of tiled surfaces.
I remain quiet, refusing to confirm or deny anything.
Col and I are in a tenuous place as it is, and I’m terrified of being too forward with the others while he’s around.
If he needs time to adjust, I’ll do my best to give it to him.
That he’s even willing to entertain a relationship that triggers such painful memories is proof that I’m something of worth to him.
That I’m more than a way to pass the time.
“Ms. Adams?” A friendly voice calls, alerting me to Dr. Taggart's arrival. Hudson is notably absent, but when she ushers us to the private alcove, I take it we need to have a lengthier conversation than normal. “I hope you’re doing well. I just wanted to give you an update on Hudson’s progress.”
“I am, thanks.” I smile in appreciation. “Is everything okay? I passed along our concerns to your assistant when we first arrived, so I’m curious if you have any theories you could share?”
“Ah.” Dr. Taggart hums, flashing me a sympathetic smile.
“I understand your worries, but rest assured, healing such a profound wound of the mind can oftentimes be a trying process. It will feel as if you’re taking two steps forward, then one step back.
A number of things could be triggering Hudson’s bouts of inconsolability.
Perhaps he’s experiencing a flashback, or it could be something as simple as him being afraid of the dark.
It’s hard to know definitively when he can’t communicate his needs.
I would suggest that you continue as you are–consoling him as best you can in the moment–but if there is a next time, I’d like you to change the scenery.
Remove him from the space he’s in and see if that helps any.
At this point, it’s more a process of elimination as we try to narrow down the root cause. ”
“Okay.” I nod distractedly, trying to think of anything in his bedroom that would elicit such a reaction from him.
A toy from his old house, possibly. One that’s connected to a memory of his mother.
I feel like I’m grasping at straws, but I’m desperate to figure this out. “We can definitely do that.”
“You’re doing an excellent job, Andi. Try to remember that when the going gets tough.
Motherhood isn’t easy.” Dr. Taggart squeezes my arm affectionately.
A moment later, her assistant rounds the corner with Hudson.
He squeals in excitement, his chunky little legs working overtime as he rushes towards us.
I hold my arms out, relieved to see there are no lingering remnants of last night’s episode, but I’m completely gobsmacked when he barrels past me and flings himself at Colsen.
Catching sight of my expression, Col’s head falls back in a laugh.
He lifts Hudson off his feet and tosses him in the air, the two of them wearing matching grins.
“You have a beautiful family, Ms. Adams. Trust your instincts, but don’t dwell too much on things that are beyond your control.
Hudson is making excellent progress, and a large part of how well he’s adapting can be attributed to the sense of safety you’ve fostered,” Dr. Taggart confides, causing the weight on my chest to feel the slightest bit lighter.
After verifying his next appointment time for Wednesday, we decide to head across the street to the park we’ve come to frequent before making the hour drive home.
It allows Hudson to burn some energy, and he usually passes out on the ride back to Chaplain.
It’s a bit busier than usual, but we find an empty bench and keep a close eye on Hudson as he toddles off to the jungle gym.
Briggs remains standing, scanning the playground imperceptibly, while Col takes a seat beside me.
I tighten my chunky-knit cardigan, trying to ward off the chill.
I can’t wait for warmer weather and to experience a summer with Hudson.
A trip to the beach sounds like the cure for all of my ailments, both physically and emotionally.
The last time I can recall seeing the ocean was twelve years ago, while visiting a random town in southern California.
I close my eyes, basking in the warm rays of sunlight peeking through the canopy of trees shading us.
Col drapes his arm around my shoulder, dragging me closer so the two of us can share body heat.
I turn to face him, smiling fondly at his scruffy jawline.
Unable to help myself, I press my lips to his cheek, lingering for several seconds to soak up the feel of his skin against mine.
As I move to pull away, he cups the back of my head and fuses our mouths together.
Kissing Col feels like fireworks are bursting behind my eyelids.
Maybe it’s him in general, his magnetism that’s impossible to ignore, or maybe it’s because I haven’t had the fortune of kissing him as much as I’d like.
Like the insufferable ass he can be, Briggs ruins the moment by loudly clearing his throat.
“That kid’s pissing me off,” he grunts, arms folding across his chest as he glowers in the general vicinity of the swings. I try to decipher who he’s talking about, but there are too many to pick from.
“Really, Briggs?” Col huffs in exasperation. “A child? Must you pick fights with everyone?”
“He threw mulch at our kid,” Briggs hisses in anger.
“So yeah, I absolutely will pick a fight with any and everyone who even thinks about hurting him.” His claiming of Hudson has my eyes pricking with tears, but before I can dissolve into a puddle, Hudson’s piercing cry has me surging to my feet and scanning the playground for his familiar red jacket.
“That’s it,” Briggs snaps, storming towards the swingset.
I hurry to follow, my heart beating at a frantic pace.
The longer Hudson’s cries go unanswered, the more I begin to panic.
When I finally catch sight of him, lying on the ground with a much larger kid sitting on his back, I see red.
Brilliant, fiery fucking red. Unfortunately, Briggs beats me to the punch, fisting the back of the child’s sweatshirt and ripping him away.
I waste no time scooping Hudson up, holding his trembling body to mine as I try in vain to shudder the anger I’m feeling.
“What the fuck, you little shit?!” The kid swings his leg out, kicking Briggs in the shin, forcing his grip to loosen.
“Excuse me!” An irate blonde woman shrills, planting her hands on her hips to glare at Briggs.
“You have no right to manhandle my child!” She’s dressed head-to-toe in workout gear, and I’d bet my meager worldly possessions that she wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to her kid’s whereabouts, much less the terrorizing he was doing.
“And your kid has no right to hurt mine, but here we are!” Briggs waves his hand in the general direction of where her child is standing, looking nonplussed by the prospect of being in trouble.
“Maybe keep your future felon on a leash, and I won’t have to step in and do your job for you.
” The woman’s eyes bulge comically, her sputtering response falling on deaf ears as Briggs takes my hand and leads us to his SUV parked across the street.
Col falls into step on my other side, dropping a kiss to the top of Hudson’s head.
My nerves are still rattled by the time Briggs hits the unlock button and pops the tailgate.
He plucks Hudson from my arms, his single-minded focus a tad bit scary in its intensity.
Placing Hudson on his feet in the cargo area, Briggs tugs his jacket off, then spins him around and lifts his shirt.
His eyes scan every inch of Hudson’s skin, but there’s not a mark on him.
I exhale in relief, thankful he doesn’t appear to be hurt, but Briggs isn’t content with his findings just yet.
He prods Hudson’s spine and joints, ensuring everything is in proper working order, until finally he deflates.
After righting Hudson’s clothes, he draws him in for a hug and takes a deep, cleansing breath.