Chapter Sixteen
Sixteen
Hudson
I’m fucking mortified right now. Cullen seeing me in all my broken glory is bad enough, but him being able to witness the humiliating consequences of my deep depression is even worse.
I keep my eyes locked on the pale gray walls across my bedroom, too scared to look Cullen in the eye. I can’t bear to see pity, or worse, disgust, on his beautiful face. It would send me spiraling all over again.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him stand, then cross my line of sight. He slips out of my room without a word, heading across the hall to the bathroom.
Great. He finds me so repulsive he had to physically get away from me.
The sound of gentle water flows into the room, followed by Cull’s heavy footsteps returning. He heads straight to my dresser and rummages through the drawers, pulling out a clean pair of boxers and my navy-blue senior class t-shirt.
“What are you doing?”
He walks over and squats in front of me, forcing me to look down at him. “You are my best friend in the entire world, and I’m going to help you through this,” he declares, voice edged with a quiet sternness.
“Cull—”
He cuts me off by holding up a finger. “Before you say anything, you are not a problem, a hassle, or a burden.” He raises a finger with each word.
“You, Hudson, are worth every ounce of effort. The people who love you know that. I’ll give you everything that I am, even if it kills me.
Even if it only makes you feel one iota better. Do you hear me?”
Shit. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
I fight to keep it in. I’m so damn tired of feeling sick and tired. But maybe, just this once, I can let someone take care of me.
It doesn’t hurt that it’s Cull offering to do it.
I hold my hand out, giving him silent permission to take charge. He grabs both of my hands and pulls me to my feet, my legs shaky from disuse and lack of food. Tingles erupt where our hands meet, and I involuntarily squeeze his in response.
Our eyes lock. There’s a gravitational pull tugging me closer.
Without thinking, I step.
Cullen’s breath hitches, then he clears his throat, squeezing my hand back.
The moment breaks when he lets go, placing one of his hands on my back to guide me into the steamy bathroom.
“Do you want me to stay and help, or can I trust you not to keel over in there?” he jokes, trying to pull a smile out of me.
It works.
My lips twitch up, and when his smile answers, butterflies stir in my stomach.
I’m glad he’s here.
“I think I can manage.”
“Okay, I’ll leave you to it. I’m keeping the door cracked, though, so I can hear if you need me.” He turns and walks out, leaving the bathroom door ajar a few inches.
I drop my basketball shorts and step under the warm spray, a low groan escaping my chest. Damn. I forgot how good hot water feels. Showers are great, but it's hard to find interest in anything when I’m like this.
Taking my time, I wash my hair twice, realizing it’s longer than I like. When I feel better, I’ll head down to the barbershop for a trim.
As much as I love the warm water, the little bit of energy I have is starting to fade. I finish with one last rinse, then step out, grab a soft, clean white towel and wrap it around my hips. Wiping the steam from the mirror with my hand, I catch a glimpse of myself.
I look like death.
Ironic.
I’m grateful Cullen didn’t push that issue. He had to know what I meant earlier with my pills. The way his breathing shifted against my back said enough.
I couldn’t stand being trapped inside my own broken mind any longer. I just wanted it to stop. Needed it to.
When I heard Cull on the other side of my door, I cracked. It felt like divine intervention.
Trying not to dwell on the dark anymore, I brush my teeth for the first time since Friday morning and rinse with mouthwash for good measure before leaving the bathroom. When I step back into my bedroom, I stop short.
It’s spotless.
The blackout curtains are tied back, sunlight streaming through the open blinds, and the air smells like the seaside cotton linen spray Mom uses. The trash is all gone from under my bed, and the sheets are clean.
Footsteps come up behind me. I turn to see Cull holding a paper plate with a sandwich—ham by the looks of it—and a bag of potato chips in his other hand. A bottle of water is tucked under his arm, and he is wearing a look somewhere between sheepish and unapologetic.
How did he manage all this so fast?
“Please don’t take my cleaning your room as pity,” he rushes to say, reading my mind. “Or something else equally ridiculous. This is just me taking one thing off your plate so you don’t have to worry about it. I can’t fix your health, but I can give you a more comfortable space to work through it.”
My throat tightens as I try to swallow. “I don’t deserve this. Not after what I said on Friday.”
“You deserve everything good, Hud.” His voice is full of quiet conviction. “And don’t worry about Friday. We’ll talk about it later.”
Those damn butterflies in my gut stir to life again, fluttering at his words.
“I know you said you don’t have much of an appetite, but I brought the sandwich in case you want to try eating a little.”
“I’ll try.” Wanting nothing more than to make him happy.
“Um, your clothes are on the dresser.” His eyes give a quick, casual sweep across my chest before flicking toward the window.
I glance down at my bare torso, then walk over to the dresser and grab the clothes he set out for me, doing my best not to make it weird.
With my back to him, I slide on my underwear beneath the towel before letting it fall to the floor. I keep my head turned, afraid he might see the longing on my face. The kind that’s getting harder to hide.
Especially after what he’s done for me today.
“I appreciate you, Cull.” My throat is tight, so I clear it. “I-I think you showed up at just the right time this morning.”
“I knew something wasn’t right. I’m glad I listened to my instincts.”
I turn and give him a strained smile, then pull on the t-shirt and a pair of gray joggers. I take the plate he offers with the sandwich and glance around my room. It’s clean now, but it still feels like the same pit of despair.
I let out a slow, heavy breath. “Can we go down to the media room? I need to get out of here. It still feels stifling.”
Cullen smiles. “Yeah, we can watch a movie or something.”
He leads the way downstairs, and I drop onto the couch. I look at the sandwich in my lap, my stomach growling. There’s still a layer of static sitting heavy on my chest, making me antsy. The need to get out of the house altogether feels urgent.
“Actually, can we go out? Maybe hit the diner for some real food?”
“That’s a great idea. Whatever you want to do.” He gives me one of those smiles he usually reserves for charming the pants off old ladies, and I swear I’m about to melt into a pile of goo.
Gray joggers might have been a mistake. Not the most helpful when trying to hide a stiffy.
“You hang here. I’ll run up and grab our shoes. Do you need anything else while I’m up there?”
“My phone and my wallet. I think they’re both in my bedside table drawer.”
“Alright, I’ll be right back.”
I lean my head back against the couch while I wait for Cullen and close my eyes. Although I still feel tired and anxious, having him here has helped settle my racing thoughts, something neither my parents nor my medicine have been able to accomplish.
This is one of the worst episodes I've had in years, but the moment Cullen didn’t hesitate to climb in behind me and hold me, my brain shifted. I felt some of the heaviness leave my body, and my mind started to calm.
I wish I could keep him, but he won’t ever be mine. Not in the way that I truly want him, and I think I need to reconcile my mind to that fact once again.
Cull is only gone for a couple of minutes before I hear him jogging back down the stairs. I get up from the couch and meet him in the foyer, where he hands me my shoes and a pair of socks. My phone and wallet are stuffed into the left shoe.
“Thanks.” I sit on the bottom step and pull on my shoes. When I stand back up, I notice Cullen watching me like a hawk. “What?”
He doesn’t speak, just walks over and tugs me into a hug. I still for just a split second before I return the embrace. My fingers curl into the back of his shirt, never wanting to let go.
I don’t know what this hug is for, but I savor it and breathe him in, his familiar scent turning my lips up at the corners.
Evergreen trees and happiness.
It’s the first genuine smile I’ve had in days, and of course, it’s because of Cullen.
“What’s this for?” I whisper, voice trembling.
He holds me tight, speaking in a tone so soft it cracks my heart open. “I don’t know what I walked in on earlier, but I need you to know—I love you. I need you, Hud. And if things ever get this bad again, please call me. You are never a bother. You are never alone.”
My breath catches, the cracks healing themselves.
He loves me. He needs me.
Words I’ve longed to hear him say since I was thirteen. I know he means them in the platonic sense, but they still mean the world to me.
His shirt wrinkles in my grip. “I love you too. Thank you.”
The whispered words hang in the space around us. He pulls away and quickly wipes his face, turning his head like I can’t see the few tears that escaped his green eyes.
Cullen clears his throat and pastes on a big smile. “So, greasy diner food then what?”
I smile back and nod. “Yeah, the southern boy platter is calling my name. I can practically taste the maple sausage.” My stomach lets out another loud rumble, making Cullen chuckle. “Then we’ll see,” I add, heat blooming on my cheeks. “I don’t want to push myself too much.”
“Sounds good. Come on, let’s get you fed.”
And just like that, something in me starts to feel whole again.