Chapter Fifteen
Fifteen
Cullen
I think staking out Hudson’s location twice in five days makes me an official stalker. If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck… yup—I’m a duck.
A heavy yawn escapes me, making my eyes water.
I tossed and turned all night, my mind refusing to accept that Hudson is just sick.
So when I woke up this morning, I decided to drive over and try my luck at seeing him.
If he doesn’t leave for school, then I’m breaking in.
I mean, I’ll use the hide-a-key… but still.
I just need the other two people in the house to leave.
His dad left a couple of minutes ago, dressed in a polo with his architecture firm’s logo and a pair of khakis, so he’s obviously gone to work. Hadley will take off, too, but it’s his mom I’m worried about. She was home yesterday, so she might be sticking around to look after Hud.
My dashboard clock reads eight. School starts in twenty minutes, so Hudson and Hadley should be walking out the door any moment now. My knee bounces. I’m half tempted to just go knock and hope for the best.
It’s not two minutes later when Hadley and her mom step outside.
Bingo. Mrs. Nora is dressed in a black pantsuit, so I’m hoping that means she’s heading to work, too.
I catch her glancing up at Hudson’s window with a worried expression before she turns and gets into her car and drives off.
Hadley idles in her white Audi coupe for a moment, then pulls out and heads toward school.
I put my truck in drive and pull into the now-empty driveway. Hudson’s Bronco must be in the garage. Or, he left before I got here forty-five minutes ago. I highly doubt that, though.
I jog up the front porch steps and head straight for the large black ceramic planter.
Tilting it to the side, I snag the spare key they keep hidden underneath.
I slot it into the deadbolt, then the doorknob, and push the door open.
A quiet breath of relief escapes me when the alarm doesn’t go off.
Turning back to the plant, I return the key to its hiding spot.
“Hud?” I call out, stepping inside.
No answer.
I sweep the downstairs, calling for him, but nothing. My chest tightens as I start up the stairs, a million questions racing through my mind.
I walk up to his shut door and press my ear to the wood. Nothing. Maybe he’s sleeping.
“Hud, it’s me,” I announce, just loud enough for him to hear. I don’t want to startle him if he’s passed out.
“Go away, Cullen.” His voice is barely audible—raspy and broken, like it’s been through a blender.
“I’m just here to check on you. I’ve been worried, man. I get that you’re probably still angry, but I just needed to make sure you’re okay.”
He doesn’t reply, but I hear a faint sound coming from the other side of the door. I hold my breath and lean in, trying to make it out.
Is he crying?
The hair on my arms stands at the sound.
Hudson never cries. He’s always so happy, almost like an excited puppy.
The last time I remember him crying was two years ago, when we sat on the bridge over the Jones River after his family had to put their dog Juniper down.
They’d gotten her the same year the twins were born, so losing her was like losing a sibling.
So, if he’s crying now, something is very wrong.
I turn the knob, but it’s locked, so I knock again. Then once more, harder.
“Hudson, please, man. Let me in. You’re my best friend, and if something’s wrong, let me be there for you. Whatever it is, you’re not alone.”
I don’t know what made me say those exact words, but the second they leave my mouth, I know they’re the right ones.
Still no answer.
I give it another second, then decide I’m breaking in. Pulling my student ID from my worn leather wallet, I slide it into the crack of his bedroom door and jimmy it until the latch pops. He can’t be mad at me for using that trick since he’s the one who taught it to me.
“Hud?”
With a cautious push, the creaky door opens, and I step into the silent darkness. There’s a lump in the middle of Hudson’s bed, barely visible in the dim light. I make my way to his bedside table and feel around until my fingers find the lamp switch, warm yellow light spilling across the room.
I focus on his bed, my eyes adjusting to the brightness. My breath catches when I see him, and it feels like someone just punched me in the ribs.
Hudson is curled in the fetal position, silently sobbing.
Without thinking, I kick off my shoes and climb in behind him. I wrap an arm around his cold, trembling torso and pull him close, holding him like he might break apart if I let go.
“I’m here, Hud. I got you. It’s going to be okay,” I murmur into his unwashed, matted hair.
His sobs break free as I pull him closer, wrapping him in both arms. I hug him tightly so he knows I’m not going anywhere. I don’t know what is going on yet, but his pain and anguish are palpable.
“I never… never wanted you to know. I’m sorry, Cull. I’m so s-sorry,” he chokes out between gasping cries.
“Shh. Don’t try to explain anything right now. Just take slow, steady breaths for me.”
My chest is tight with panic, but I can’t let it get in the way of helping Hudson. I press his back into my chest, my hand resting over his heart. It’s beating frantically, the thump-thump pounding against my palm.
“Take a deep breath with me.” I inhale deeply, and after a moment, I feel his shuddered intake of air. He tries to measure the release, but it comes in broken bursts, tangled with sobs.
He’s trying. And for now, that’s enough.
“Come on, Hud. Try again. You’ve got this.” I take another deep breath, and he mirrors me. This one’s steadier. His back still hitches, but less than before. He exhales without a stutter, then takes another breath on his own.
“There you go. See how strong you are?” My praise is soft, my hand steady over his chest in reassurance.
He gives a slight shake of his head. “I’m not,” he croaks. His voice is still scratchy, but it’s a little stronger than before.
There is a soft rattle beside him, his shaky hand lifting two orange prescription bottles into view.
“I just want it all to stop.” His breath stammers, and another round of gut-wrenching sobs wrack his body.
Fear surges through me. I force myself to stay calm, even as my mind spins with what he might have been contemplating before I showed up.
I reach out, prying the bottles from his white-knuckled grip and slip them into my pocket.
He doesn’t fight me, just lets go, and starts mumbling “I hate my brain” and “I’m so sorry” over and over, each one broken and full of pain.
It’s clear now. Hudson is sick, but not with a bug or virus. This is something deeper. Something darker.
Why didn’t Mrs. Nora just tell me what was going on? Is this why Hadley hesitated when I asked about him yesterday?
I shove the questions down for now. I’ll ask them later, when Hudson is in a better frame of mind.
My hand slides back over his bare chest, right above his heart. He reaches up with both hands and clutches my forearm, holding on like it’s a teddy bear.
“My lungs h-hurt,” he chokes out.
“Keep trying to take deep breaths. You don’t realize how strong you are.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers.
I don’t reply. I just rest my forehead against the back of his head and squeeze my eyes shut.
It kills me that I can’t take away his pain.
I hug him closer to me, my own heart beating wildly.
There is an urge to take care of him, not just today, but forever.
I know whatever future we have will only ever be platonic, but that doesn’t make me want it any less.
My heart clenches as I take the small gift of being able to hold him and grasp onto it with everything I have.
With my eyes closed, I picture an alternate world where Hud and I are together—in love.
The image is vivid. Us in college and sharing an apartment.
He’d come home from class, and I’d have dinner waiting.
I’d greet him with a hug and a kiss, just like my parents do every day without fail, and ask how his day was.
We’d talk over dinner, then curl up on the couch to watch our favorite show, except we’d never finish an episode because we’d be too busy getting lost in each other.
“I’m sorry, Cull.”
I’m snapped back into reality at the sound of Hudson’s rasping voice. His breathing has leveled out, and his cries have turned into sniffles.
“What are you sorry for? You haven’t done anything wrong.”
He gives a small huff and slides out from beneath my arm, scooting to the edge of his bed and lying flat on his back. I instantly miss the warmth of his body against mine, but I know this isn’t about me, so I let him go.
It’s the first time I get a full look at his face, and he looks fucking awful. His usually bright blue eyes are dull, ringed with harsh purple and red shadows, and his skin is pale and drawn. I try not to react, but it’s hard. He looks so… fragile.
“I’m sorry you had to see me like this, but I’m glad you’re here. You helped snap my mind out of a bad place,” he admits with a sad smile.
I don’t want to dig into that because I’m not ready to face what he might mean.
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you,” I confess, keeping my tone light. “I came by yesterday, but Mama Daniels wouldn’t let me in. Said you had a bug.”
“Yeah. She knows I don’t want anyone other than her and Dad to know about…
this.” He gestures towards his head. “Hadley doesn’t even know.
” He sighs, dragging his hands down his tired face before turning to look at me.
He blows out a harsh breath, then catches his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing the skin.
Fuck, I want to bite that lip.
Yeah, cut that shit, Cull.
Now is absolutely the wrong time for those thoughts.