Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Hudson
I fucked up.
I fucked up the day after the party when I didn’t tell him what happened. I had so many chances, but I kept my mouth shut. And once we confessed our feelings, I got stuck in that happy little bubble and forgot all about it.
Now it’s catching up to me. And I deserve it.
Selfish.
Always hurting the people I love.
Broken.
Cullen deserves so much more.
My thoughts have felt like a battering ram since I confessed yesterday. When Cull started to walk away, I thought it was the beginning of the end. The moment he came back and wrapped his arms around me, the tightness in my chest eased, his arms bringing the safety I’ve come to crave from him.
When we finally went back to our classes, I thought maybe Cull was going to be okay, but he remained slightly detached the rest of the day. Even through lunch, while he was joking around with Matt and the guys, he had a tightness around his eyes, his laugh a little forced.
No one seemed to notice, but I did.
I know I hurt him. He has every right to feel how he does.
Because I’m a fuck up.
I lay in bed last night clutching my phone, wanting to call him.
He had said he needed space, so I tried to respect that.
He did send his usual goodnight text, though.
That brought a semblance of peace, seeing I love you in our text thread, but I still tossed and turned until the sunlight started creeping in through my blinds.
It would’ve been so easy to sleep the day away, too drained to even roll over, but I forced myself up. I didn’t let the darkness win.
Dr. Anderson would be proud. Eyeroll.
It doesn’t matter that it feels like every step I take is through wet concrete. That every movement is like razor blades scraping beneath my skin. I’m constantly overstimulated, but I still smile so no one knows they’re stressing me out just by being near me.
No one sees how hard my heart beats with the constant fear that something bad is about to happen.
They see I’m up, smiling, functioning. So Hudson must be fine.
If they only knew.
But I don’t want them to know.
What’s the point? Dr. Anderson knows, and all he ever does is tweak my meds and says, “Let’s see if that helps.” I gave up telling him the truth. I just claim things are fine now, because the adjustments help for a while, then it’s back to square one.
I’m just… tired.
“Mom said it’s your turn to do the dishes.”
I flinch at the sound of Hadley’s voice. It’s the first time she’s spoken to me since the lake last week. I’ve been sitting at the breakfast table, pushing eggs around my plate, lost in a spiral of self-pity. The last thing I expected was for her to acknowledge me.
“I’ll do them later.” I don’t have the energy to blink, let alone deal with dishes.
“You’re so lazy, Hudson. There are literally five dishes in the sink.”
Lazy.
I wish that were it. I wish this were a choice.
“It’s the first time you’ve spoken to me since the lake, and it’s to rag on me? Thanks, Hads.” My voice is as dead as I feel.
If I could just hear Cull’s voice, I know it’d be the dopamine hit I need to get through the day. Maybe I’ll cave and call him in a few. I know we need to have a talk anyway.
Hadley sits across from me, studying me like she’s trying to decode something. She can try. All my shit’s locked down tighter than a tick’s ass.
“Why did you do it?”
I just look at her because that’s a loaded fucking question.
“Care to clarify?” I ask cautiously.
“Kiss him. Why?”
I ease back in the creaky kitchen chair. Of all the things she could’ve asked, this one is the easiest to lie about.
“It was a dare, Hadley. That’s all.”
“You had a choice. You could’ve kissed a girl.” She argues, tone clipped.
“Are you homophobic now?” I ask, eyebrow raised. I’m not sure where she stands on queer relationships, but after she helped shove Cullen in the closet, I have a guess.
She doesn’t answer. Just repeats, “Why?”
“Because that chick skeeved me out,” I say casually. “Pretty sure she had a cold sore.”
Hadley’s eyes are ice, and I can’t tell if she buys it.
“I’m sorry if me kissing Cull upset you, but it was just a dare. We were drunk, and no one gave a shit. It was harmless.”
Her cold expression falters. When she speaks again, there’s the smallest hint of vulnerability. “You swear that’s all it was?”
Fuck. Maybe she sees more than she lets on. But I’m not about to confirm anything. “Yeah. Just a dumb dare.”
She exhales heavily and pushes up from the table. “I’m going to Maggie’s. Mom and Dad are off playing pickleball with the Andersons. No clue when they’ll be back.” She heads for the door. The moment it opens, I hear her scoff, then mutter something snarky and slam it shut.
I turn in my seat when I hear footsteps coming through the kitchen doorway. My heartbeat picks up like it always does when I see Cullen, like a happy dog wagging its tail. But it drops out of my ass the moment I clock his blank expression.
He said he loved me last night. He’s not here to end things.
The thought crossed my mind last night that he may realize I’m too much to handle. Him ending things felt like a real possibility until I got that text.
“Hey.” His voice is neutral, giving nothing away.
“Hi.” I’m shocked how steady I sound, considering my insides are whirring like a category five hurricane.
“Can we talk?”
“Yeah, of course.” I gesture to the empty seat across from me. He sits, but he may as well be on the opposite end of the planet. That’s how much space his energy puts between us.
“I’m upset with you.”
“I know.”
“You hurt me.”
I nod, swallowing down the panic tightening in my throat.
“It felt like a betrayal.”
That one lands like a bullet. But I take it. I deserve it.
“It wasn’t my intention,” I say, emotion thick in my throat.
“I know.”
Wait. What?
“You know?”
“Hudson, you don’t have a malicious bone in your body.” He deflates in his seat, then stands and moves to sit next to me. We face each other, our knees brushing. He takes my hands, and I brace for impact, still uncertain where this is going.
“I’m still mad about what you did, but my relationship with Hadley was toxic. Regardless of your interference, I think I would have ended things eventually. You just gave me the push I needed to do it sooner.”
I can’t help myself as I smile.
“But…”
Shit. There it is.
“I hate that you pulled Ella into it. That felt like a huge breach of trust.” His words are firm but gentle.
“I get that. I’m really sorry.”
“I know you are.” He leans in and kisses me. It calms that raging storm in my chest, bringing sunshine after the clouds. He shouldn’t forgive me this easily, but I’m so grateful he does.
“Thank you for not walking away yesterday.” It’s a fear of mine every day that he’s going to leave. I don’t think he realizes how much it meant that he stayed.
“I’m sorry that I almost did. It took all of two seconds to realize what a stupid decision that would have been, no matter how upset I was.” He kisses me again, his lips soft and sure. “Just promise me one more thing?”
“Anything,” I say, knowing that whatever the request is, I’ll give it to him gladly.
“No more secrets.”
“Promise,” I say without hesitation.
“I missed you,” he murmurs, nipping my bottom lip.
“You saw me yesterday.”
“Felt like a lifetime. I don’t like us fighting.” He trails kisses down my neck, fingers toying with the hem of my T-shirt. My dick perks up like an eager puppy greeting its favorite person.
“Me either,” I whisper, breath catching.
“What are you gonna do to make it up to me?” His voice is low and wicked.
“I can think of a few things.” I reach for his shirt, his lips finding the sensitive spot below my ear.
The sound of shattering glass explodes through the house, a high-pitched crack that makes my ears ring. Cullen’s goalie reflexes kick in and he hauls me to the floor, covering me with his body.
I’ll swoon later. Right now? Survival.
“What the hell was that?” he hisses against my ear.
“No idea. Sounded like it came from the dining room,” I whisper. “Think it’s safe?”
“Only one way to find out.”
We sit up and peek around the archway. From here, I catch a glimpse of blue and green glass scattered across the hardwood.
“I think the stained-glass window is busted,” I tell him, keeping my voice hushed. “Maybe a bird flew into it?”
We rise cautiously and step into the dining room. My mom’s going to lose it. That window was her favorite thing in this whole house. Now, the peacock’s body lies in shards.
“Not a bird, Hud,” Cullen states, voice tight. He’s standing by the table, holding something, his back to me.
“What is it?”
He doesn’t answer right away, just turns slowly, his stare locked on the thing in his hands. He’s holding a brick wrapped in printer paper, duct tape clinging to the edges.
My stomach lurches.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing.
He peels off the paper carefully, trying not to tear it.
The second it comes free, we both go still.
The brick hits the floor with a dull thud.
We’re staring at a blurry photo of Cull and me.
Inside the Bronco.
Mid-sex.
And across our faces, written in the same jagged scrawl as the anonymous letters:
He may have you now.
But I’ll have you forever.