Chapter 41
Forty-One
Hudson
With each passing moment, I feel myself slipping further into my mind. I’m sitting next to the person I love more than anything in this world, in the one place that’s always felt safe, but I can’t see even a flicker of light at the end of this tunnel.
Just one never-ending fall into nothing.
The smiles I’ve been forcing stretch like cracked glass. They hurt to wear, but I’ll keep doing it. It’s easier than watching them worry. Easier than admitting I don’t know how to fix myself.
Cull sees through all of it, though. He always does.
That invisible thread between us won’t let me hide from him, no matter how hard I try. He can feel the emptiness hollowing me out. That might be what hurts most—not the scholarship. Not Hadley. Not the false accusation.
It’s that Cullen knows.
I never wanted him to know what it’s like to carry this kind of despair. The kind that walks behind you like a prison guard, making sure you never feel too much hope.
“You haven’t touched your fries,” Cull points out gently.
His voice pulls me back from the edge. I glance down at the food in my lap. “I’m full. The burger was enough.”
He takes the sandwich from me and re-wraps it in the foil. “You only took two bites. I’ll save it in case you want it later.”
“That’s fine.”
I won’t. I had to force the two bites I did take.
We sit in silence after that, legs dangling off the tailgate of his truck, the river glinting in the late afternoon sun. He eats while I pretend to be present. My mind is far below, somewhere beneath the surface of that water, untouchable and chaotic.
“How many people do you think have drowned down there?” I ask, staring at the river.
Cullen chokes on his food. “That’s a dark thought.”
I shrug. All my thoughts are dark lately. “It’s peaceful here. Would be a nice place to die.”
He coughs harder, wheezing. I reach to pat his back, but he bats my hand away. When he turns to me, his face is red and furious. “What the hell? Why would you say something like that?”
“It was an observation, Cull. Chill.” I sigh, unable to force any inflection in my tone.
He stares at me like he’s trying to read something on my face, but I’ve made sure there’s nothing there. He might be able to feel the hollowed-out parts of me, but he can’t see the thoughts behind them.
“Please don’t talk like that,” he pleads.
His voice is quieter now, but still tense.
He shifts sideways on the tailgate, knees up to face me, then he tugs on my arm.
I don’t resist. I turn, letting my back rest against the truck’s side.
His eyes search mine again, frantic and raw.
“I know things are hard right now, but I need you to keep fighting. Everything will work out. It has to.”
He’s trying to convince himself as much as he’s trying to convince me. I don’t tell him that, though.
“I have faith in us,” he continues, voice tightening.
“Come September, we’ll be roommates. We’ll push our beds together in the dorm, and cuddle at night, and go to dumb parties on the weekends.
We’ll make it onto State’s soccer team and win a championship.
And you,” he gives me a small, broken smile, “you’re going to earn a dozen degrees with that big, beautiful brain of yours. ”
He grabs my hand, squeezing it like it’ll keep me here.
“You have a future, Hudson. We have a future. Please… hold on to that. Hold on to me.”
I want to. God, I want to.
But right now, all I feel is the cold river water pulling me under.
The words are beautiful, but they feel like a mirage in the desert. They shimmer in the heat, a promise on the horizon, but the moment you reach for it, it vanishes. They were never real. Never a true possibility.
I don’t think my future is out there anymore, and I don’t want to give Cullen false hope that he could possibly be happy with whatever I’m becoming.
“It sounds nice,” I huff, “but it’s just hard to see that right now.”
“I get that,” he replies, “but I need you to try, baby.”
I give him the smallest smile I can manage and turn my face back toward the river.
Something dark shifts at the end of the railroad bridge, so I squint into the bright afternoon light, trying to make it out. My blood chills when I realize it’s a person, someone dressed entirely in black, just standing there.
I nudge Cullen with my elbow. “Cull, there’s someone at the end of the bridge… and he’s staring at us.”
He doesn’t even look, just picks at the burger in his lap. “I’m sure we’re not the only people who come here, Hud.”
“We’ve been coming here for seven years and have never seen another soul, Cullen.” My voice is sharper now. The way I say his full name gets his attention.
He glances up, his muscles going rigid. He slides off the tailgate and stands to block me from view, shielding me.
I peer around him, trying to make out the figure’s face, but he’s too far away.
“He’s too far to see clearly,” I whisper, like the guy might somehow hear me from one hundred yards away. Then the figure raises a phone and snaps a picture. A second later, he turns and disappears into the trees.
Cullen’s already moving.
“Cull, stop!” I shout, the words tearing from me, but he’s not listening.
He scrambles up the incline toward the bridge, vaults over the rusted railing, and runs straight into possible danger.
Panic claws at my throat as I bolt after him, shouting his name.
By the time I reach the railing, he’s halfway across the bridge.
He slows to a stop, bent over with his hands on his knees, panting hard. I catch up just as he reaches down to pick something up. A piece of paper, folded and crumpled at the edges.
The moment I reach him, the numbness I’ve been trapped in breaks. All the fear, rage, and helplessness flood to the surface, boiling over. I shove Cullen hard in the chest.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? That guy could’ve had a gun! What if he was trying to lure us here to hurt us?”
He stumbles backward, equally furious. “I was thinking I could catch the asshole and end this. I was thinking about keeping you safe!”
He thrusts the paper into my chest. “Here. He left this.”
I rip it from his hands, smoothing out the creases to read the familiar handwriting.
Now you don’t have to leave me behind for school. You can stay here, where you belong. One day, I’ll bring you his heart, wrapped in a bow. Then we can rest. No more noise. No more fear. Just the two of us, together. Forever.
My hands tremble as I ball up the note and hurl it into the river. I walk away, anger and fear warring inside me.
“What the hell, Hudson? We needed that. The cops could’ve used it.”
I spin around, throwing my arms out. “For what?” I snarl. “They’ve done nothing. That case file is sitting in a drawer, collecting dust. That piece of paper wouldn’t change anything.”
He stares at me, nostrils flaring with anger at my indifference.
“And even if they do catch him, what’ll happen? He’ll do a year in county, maybe two. That’s it. The only way this ends is if he dies. Or I do.”
“Don’t say that,” Cullen grits out.
“That letter? It’s nothing. You’ve been dying to know what the others said, right?” I laugh bitterly, no humor behind it.
“One described drinking my blood so he could take part of my soul inside him.” Cull just stares at me, shocked.
“Another said that he loves me so much that even if he wore my skin it wouldn’t be close enough.
But my favorite? The one where he promised to find a way to give me your severed head.
He said that he has a plan to get you out of the way. ”
Cullen’s face crumples with horror. His mouth opens, but no words come out.
I take his silence and run with it. Literally. I turn on my heel and sprint, my legs carrying me blindly over the bridge and down the winding dirt road. I run away like I always do, so I don’t have to feel the pain of the truth.
When I reach the end of the road, I collapse onto the busted curb, gasping for air. My chest is tight, and my lungs burn, but it’s nothing compared to what’s happening inside my head. My thoughts splinter into jagged shards, each one slicing at the last scraps of self-preservation I’ve got left.
I don’t know how much longer I can keep going like this.
It isn’t going to get better.
I’m not going to get better.
And Cullen…
He deserves someone better. Someone whole.
***
Cullen
Hud turns and sprints away like I’m the villain in some horror movie. I just stand there, throat tight, watching him disappear around the bend.
A branch cracks behind me and snaps me from my stupor. I suddenly remember I chased after a psycho, unarmed and without thought. I jog back across the bridge and scramble down the small hill. I grab our trash from the truck bed, then go after Hud.
I find him sitting on the broken curb at the end of the dusty road, head bent over his phone. He hears the roar of my truck and stands, waiting for me to reach him.
He climbs in, silent, eyes void of any light. I reach for his hand and bring it to my lips, kissing it softly.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, letting his head fall back against the headrest. “I’m not coping well, Cull.”
“I know.” It’s all I can say right now. He doesn’t need any more sugarcoated promises, just honest truth.
He doesn’t let go of my hand for the entire drive back to his house. The silence hangs heavy, and I can practically feel Hudson thinking hard. I pull into his driveway and let the engine idle.
“Cull… will you make me a promise?”
“I’ll promise you anything, baby.” If he asked me to rip my heart out and give it to him on a platter, I would consider it.
He’s looking down at our interlocked fingers as I rub my thumb in soothing strokes over his hand.
He takes a steadying breath, then looks me in the eye.
“If something happens to me because of this guy… promise me you’ll move on.
That you’ll find someone else. Someone who will make you happy and you can fall in love with. ”
My hand stills, then drops away entirely. He really did ask me to rip my heart out.
But not so he can keep it.
My pulse spikes, neck heating with the anger coursing through my body. “No.”
His eyes slam closed. “You said you’d promise me anything.” His voice breaks, the sound just fueling my anger.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d ask for something so goddamn stupid.”
“Please, Cull. I just… I don’t know.”
“You’re giving up. No matter what I say to you, you’ve already decided how this is going to end.” He reaches for my hand, but I bring it to the steering wheel just as his fingers brush my skin.
When it’s clear I’m done with the conversation, he opens the door, then shuts it quietly after stepping down. I wait long enough to make sure he gets into the house safely, but the moment the door closes behind him, I back out of the driveway and haul ass home.