Chapter 44
Forty-Four
Cullen
Something’s wrong.
I knew it the moment Hudson promised to talk to me. I could see it in the tightness of his mouth, the way he avoided my eyes, the way he rushed out of here…
I scramble for my phone, dialing his number.
It rings four times before his raspy voice comes over the line. “Hey, Baby—”
“Yo, it’s Hud. Leave a message—”
“Damnit!” I hang up and try again, sweat breaking out on my upper lip.
Three unanswered calls later, my unease explodes into full-blown panic. My heart punches inside my chest, fear screaming that Hud may do something irreversible.
I hobble downstairs as fast as I can without aggravating my injuries. My ribs are the worst of it, thanks to that psycho, but right now, I don’t feel the pain. Hudson is all that matters.
“Hey, sweetheart. We just heard Hudson leave. How did your talk go?” Mom asks. She’s at the stove working on dinner while Dad’s sorting through paperwork at the table.
“I don’t know. I have this bad feeling. I called, but he didn’t answer.”
“Maybe he just needs some time,” Dad says. “Hearing about what happened likely hit him hard. Hudson takes on more guilt than anyone should, especially when it’s not his to carry.”
“I know,” I growl. “But he was different today. I don’t know how to explain it… I just can’t shake the feeling that something’s really wrong.”
“Well, we have instincts for a reason,” Mom placates. “Maybe Dad can drive you over to his house after dinner so you can check on him.”
Something tells me not to wait that long.
“I’m going now.”
I turn toward the front door, but Dad stops me. “Cull, you’re not cleared to drive yet.”
“I don’t care,” I yell, my voice strangled and pitched higher than normal.
Dad assesses me for a second, then gets up and kisses Mom on the cheek. “I’ll drive him,” he says. “We’ll be back in thirty.”
Mom gives him a grateful smile, then wraps me in a soft hug. “Don’t stay too long. You need to be resting.”
I grab my keys hanging by the door, but Dad plucks them from my hand.
“I said I’ll drive.” He’s firm but calm, already moving through the door.
I follow him outside, my pulse pounding in my ears. He unlocks my truck and opens the passenger door, a quiet gesture that shows he knows how much this means to me. I slide in without protest, appreciative even if I don’t voice it out loud.
We pull out onto the road toward Hudson’s house, my knee bouncing and jostling my sore ribs.
“Dad, I know you’re not supposed to talk about your patients, but I think Hudson might fall into a gray area.”
He chuckles softly. “Yeah, I guess he does. I can answer a few things without crossing any lines.”
I take a steadying breath. “Um… has he ever said anything about wanting to hurt himself? O-or…” I trail off, unable to say it out loud.
Dad’s posture shifts, more alert. “Why do you ask? Has he said something to you?”
I hesitate, not wanting to betray Hud, but if there was ever a time to divulge what I know, it’s now.
“A few weeks ago, before we got together, I went over to his place and found him in the middle of an episode. He was clutching his pill bottles. He said he just wanted it all to stop.” The memory feels like lead. I swallow hard, trying not to panic.
He exhales and rubs a hand across his mouth, thinking it through. “I’ve done plenty of evaluations on Hudson, and he’s never indicated any thoughts of self-harm. But, those assessments only work if the person’s being completely honest.”
“Dad, I’m scared. He told me he wasn’t okay, but I think it’s worse than that.”
He speeds up, understanding why I’m so terrified. We round the corner onto Hudson’s street, his house just ahead. My dad pulls to the curb, but I’m out of the truck before it comes to a full stop. I hear him say something behind me, but I’m already moving too fast to ask what he said.
Hudson’s Bronco isn’t here, but Hadley’s car is.
I'm up the steps in two strides and don’t bother knocking. I shove the front door open, relieved it’s unlocked.
Hadley rushes around the corner, alarm on her face from the noise I made. When she sees it’s me, her expression hardens. “Geez, Cullen. Ever heard of knocking?” she snarks, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “You look like hell, by the way.”
I ignore her. “Where’s Hudson?” Panic is clawing at me, the need to find him becoming more urgent with each passing second.
She frowns as my dad steps up beside me. Hadley looks between the two of us, her expression growing more confused. “How should I know? He was here when I left for the drugstore an hour ago, but he was gone when I got back.”
“How was he acting when you saw him last?” Dad asks.
“Like he’d just woken up from hibernation, which he kinda did, the lazy asshole.” She rolls her eyes. “I told him about your little dust-up, and he looked freaked out. I left right after that.”
My teeth clench. I really want to put her in her place, but it’ll have to wait until after I find Hud. I spin and storm back down the front steps, my rib begging me to slow down. Dad follows, Hadley jogging after us.
“Is something going on, Cullen?” she calls. She grabs my arm, but I yank it away.
“Like you care,” I snap. I throw her own words back at her, similar to the ones she said to Hudson in the cafeteria.
“If my brother’s in trouble, I have a right to know.”
I come to a halt and pivot, chest heaving. I don’t have time for this, but she needs to hear the truth.
“I think your brother is suicidal.” My voice is shaking, the reality of what I think we are facing sinking in. “That’s what’s wrong. And I know part of what’s driving him there is the way you’ve been treating him.”
She goes still. “Hudson’s not—he wouldn’t… he wouldn’t do something like that.”
“You don’t know anything, Hadley.” My voice cracks. “Now I have to go find my boyfriend and pray to God he hasn’t made a decision he can’t come back from. You’d better start praying, too.”
I don’t look back, just get in the truck and dial Hudson again.
Still nothing.
My hands shake as I scroll to Ella’s name and hit call.
It rings once.
“Cullen? Why are you—”
“Is Hudson with you?” I snap. Fuck pleasantries.
“No. I haven’t seen him since the park. Why?”
I hang up. She gave me all the answer I need.
Dad gets behind the wheel. “Where to?”
“This would be a nice place to die.”
“The river,” I gasp, his words from a week ago now haunting me.
He pulls away from the curb and floors it.
A sharp pain flares in my chest. It feels like the lifeline between Hudson and me is starting to fray. I press a hand to it, trying to hold it together.
“Dad,” I choke out, “step on it. Please.”
“The road is just up ahead. Stay calm, Cullen. We don’t know what we’re about to walk into,” he warns. “If you can’t hold it together, I’ll need you to stay in the truck.”
My jaw locks, but I nod.
Dad makes the left off the main road and onto the dirt path. The car jolts with every bump, ratcheting up my anxiety. We speed through the break in the trees into the clearing where Hudson’s Bronco is parked in the usual spot.
I do a quick scan of the area, my eyes landing on the bridge.
My heart slams to a stop.
“Dear God…” Dad mutters.
The truck skids to a stop, then I’m out and running. My eyes lock on Hudson, standing on the railing, face turned toward the setting sun, his expression broken. Resigned.
“HUDSON!” I scream, raw and desperate.
He takes a deep breath.
Then steps off.
Time slows as I watch Hudson fall, crashing hard into the river below, the violent splash of water echoing off the pines.
I don’t think. I sprint down the bank and plunge into the cool water, swimming toward where he went under. Dad is yelling behind me, but I block it out. The only thing that matters is getting to Hudson.
My ribs scream and my skull pounds, but it doesn’t matter. I just keep swimming.
I reach the area where the water still ripples and frantically yell his name.
“HUDSON!”
I dive under, the river’s murky water swallowing me whole. Flashes of us at thirteen, when he had to save me, flicker in my mind. Same river. Same golden hour sun. But this time, I’m the one trying to save him.
The water stings my eyes, pitch black below the surface. I flail blindly, praying to feel anything—skin, fabric, or a hand.
Nothing.
The river is too deep.
Too dark.
I burst back up, gasping, my lungs screaming in pain.
“I’ll go down.” My dad’s voice is sudden, and right beside me. I hadn’t even realized he followed me in.
I suck a ragged breath and scan the water again, heart pounding in my throat. The current could have carried Hudson down a ways…
Or he could have been dragged down into its depths.
Please God, let him be alive.
Near one of the bridge columns, just beneath the surface, I see a flicker of white. The material is caught on a massive tree limb.
It’s a shirt.
“Dad!” I scream, pulling on his arm under the water next to me.
I start swimming, my ribs protesting with every stroke, slowing me down. Dad surges past me and gets there first. “It’s him!” he shouts.
Hudson floats face down, tangled in the half-submerged tree. One arm is twisted at an unnatural angle, his shirt caught on a thick branch.
I tread red-tinted water beside Dad, who’s trying to lift Hudson’s head above the surface but can’t get the right leverage.
“Pocket knife,” he grunts. “Front right pocket.”
I circle around him, heart pounding, and fumble inside his jeans until I grab the knife. I flick it open with shaking hands and slice through Hudson’s shirt, careful not to nick him.
The fabric gives, and my dad turns him over. Hudson’s face is ghostly pale, a jagged cut across his temple, blood oozing down his neck.
My stomach churns, and I feel like I'm the one drowning.
“We’ll float him back,” Dad says, winded. “We need to call 911 when we get to the bank.”
I can’t speak, mind blank. I just cradle Hudson’s head in my hands, staring at his face like it might disappear if I look away.
Like this might be goodbye.
Sirens wail close by as we breach the bank, and I pray that somehow they are coming for Hud. A flicker of hope cuts through the chaos, but it vanishes as fast as it comes. Hudson still isn’t moving. He’s not coming to.
He was face down in the water for two, maybe three minutes. That’s too long. Too long not to breathe.
We drag him to drier ground, careful not to jostle him. Dad drops to his knees beside him and starts the CPR process.
“Hudson?” he barks, tapping his face. “Hudson!”
Nothing. His chest remains still.
My knees give out as I fall beside his lifeless form, grasping his cold, clammy hand.
“Dad! He’s not breathing!” My voice breaks, strangled by panic. I feel like I’m splintering apart. “Baby, please… please, please, please.”
Dad doesn’t respond as he checks for a pulse, his jaw clenched. “Damn, his pulse is weak,” he mutters, and starts compressions. Hudson’s chest jerks under my dad’s hands, and his ribs expand as air is blown into his lungs.
I can’t move. Can’t think. My body is frozen, but my mind is screaming.
Please, God, don’t take him from me.
I vaguely register paramedics scrambling down the embankment, red medical bags bouncing against their sides.
Another follows behind with a backboard in his grip.
The male medic drops to his knees and takes over compressions.
The female kneels beside my dad, pulling on gloves as she asks something, but I can’t hear it.
Everything is muffled and distant, like I’m watching from outside of my body. I see mouths moving, but all I hear is blood rushing in my ears.
My eyes lock on Hudson. He’s so limp and still, his pouty lips an alarming shade of blue.
The medic opens his bag and pulls out some sort of machine. My dad is giving the female paramedic all of Hudson’s information, but the words sound muffled.
They lift him onto the backboard, ripping my hand free. I scramble after them, feet stumbling on the uneven ground, scared to look away.
“Hud, baby…” Tears stream down my face as I whisper his name over and over.
One of the paramedics presses leads to Hudson’s chest, then hits a button on the small machine and yells, “Clear!”
Hudson’s body spasms with the jolt of electricity.
Come on, baby, wake up. Please, please wake up.
Water drips off my chin, my tears heavy and unstoppable.
My dad appears beside me and pulls me into his side, but it does nothing to steady me. I’m shaking with adrenaline and numb all at the same time.
The machine speaks out, flat and mechanical.
Continue CPR.
They transfer Hud to a gurney, strapping him down as one paramedic continues compressions. But through it all, Hudson stays terrifyingly still.
Amid the flurry of activity, I see more lights flashing off the dark trees. Police cars and firetrucks are pulling up in swarms. People in uniform try to ask me questions, but I tune them out.
My eyes never leave Hud as they wheel him toward the ambulance. I follow on instinct, legs moving faster than my thoughts. They load Hudson into the back of the ambulance, and I try to climb in after them.
“I’m sorry,” the woman blocks me with an outstretched arm. “You can’t ride with us.”
“He’s my boyfriend. Please,” I plead, breath catching in my throat, and body vibrating with fear. “I don’t want him to be alone if—” I can’t finish the sentence. If I do, then it’s real.
“He’s not alone,” she says softly. “Follow us. We have to go.”
The door slams shut, the sound sending chills of finality through my chest.
I hear the paramedics talking still, frantically trying to revive Hud.
A shout comes from inside the ambulance. “We’ve lost his heartbeat!”
The words hit like a gunshot, searing and final.
The howl starts low in my belly before it rips its way up my throat, falling to the dirt on my hands and knees. “HUDSON! No… Baby. PLEASE!”
My dad goes to the ground with me, trying to hold me together. I’m inconsolable as I watch them drive away with the other half of my soul.
Hudson’s heart isn’t beating.
And mine may as well stop, too.