Chapter 15
Andilyn
To my surprise, we slept half the day away.
I was fully expecting to be up and down with Hudson, but he never stirred.
I think the past few days have finally caught up with him, and whether he wanted to or not, his body demanded rest. The next hurdle we face is getting him to eat anything substantial.
Beyond a few snacks, he refuses everything we offer him.
The hardest part is watching how difficult this is for Seth.
It’s obvious he wants to help his son, but nothing seems to do the trick.
I have no expertise to offer, but I do my best, suggesting he pick his battles.
At this point, a can of Pringles is better than an empty stomach.
Watching the two of them interact only heightens my concern.
Hudson is despondent and barely engaging, despite Seth’s many attempts to divert his attention.
The only interest he seems to have is in the tablet playing his favorite cartoon on repeat.
Seth explained it was intended to be used during long car rides when he’d get anxious, so it makes sense that he’s clinging to something that previously served as a means of comfort and distraction.
The three of us decide to put our heads together and do some research on local child psychologists, and by some miracle, Seth gets a same-day appointment for later this afternoon.
As the hours creep by, I start to dread the act of leaving.
It’s irrational and unfair of me to feel this way, but I’m worried about Seth’s mental state and whether or not he’s capable of being what Hudson needs while simultaneously mourning the loss of his wife.
It’s not my place to question his parenting though, so I bite my tongue and simply offer my assistance whenever he needs it.
As their appointment time draws near, we make our way outside to say our goodbyes.
Securing Hudson in his car seat, I triple-check that the straps are in the right position, prolonging our departure for as long as possible.
Brushing his curls aside, I kiss his chubby cheek, both sad and relieved that his attention is being monopolized by the screen in his hands.
“I’ll let you know how it goes,” Seth promises.
He fidgets with the keys in his hands, his nervousness growing more prominent the closer they get to leaving.
He’s afraid to know the outcome of today’s meeting, and while I can’t deny the allure of wishful thinking, his expectations are set too high.
Hinging all his hopes on the shoulders of a single person is a recipe for disaster.
There isn’t a simple fix that’s going to make everything right again, and certainly not in a single session.
For Hudson’s sake, his father needs to come to terms with the uphill battle they’re facing.
“Thanks. I’d appreciate that,” I respond, crossing my fingers that his update will only bear good news.
When it becomes obvious we’re holding them up, Raiden steers me towards his truck, holding the passenger door open.
Every step I take in the opposite direction of Hudson makes my chest flare with worry, afraid he’s going to have another meltdown the second they leave the driveway.
I watch them fade away in the side view mirror, exhaling raggedly when there’s no sign of brake lights.
I’m too lost in thought to bother drumming up idle conversation, so I stare out the window, watching the blur of trees speeding past us.
I can’t afford to tie myself to the well-being of anyone else, not when I have my own issues I’ve yet to address, but knowing that does little to sway my feelings.
Maybe some time apart will do us all a bit of good, allowing Hudson to lean on his father for support.
They’re never going to find their rhythm if someone else continues to step in and handle the difficult moments.
When we arrive at the old firehouse a couple of hours later, the sun is starting to set.
I feel awful that Raiden had to call out of work, but he insists it wasn’t a big deal.
I doubt his boss feels that way, and from the impression I got when meeting him yesterday, he didn’t seem to be the understanding type.
Since the day we met, all I’ve done is bring one complication after another to his doorstep, but he takes each one in stride, offering solutions to impossible problems. I’m so used to putting out fires caused by others and taking accountability for things I had no part in, so it’s a foreign concept to have someone else to lean on.
“Hey!” We’ve barely made it halfway across the courtyard when the shouted greeting gets our attention.
Raiden turns, strategically placing himself in front of me as he searches for the source.
Peering around his back, I catch a glimpse of Colsen as he jogs across the street, his hands gripping several bags of groceries.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you, but I was wondering if either of you has dinner plans? ”
“So many plans,” I answer sarcastically, though my deadpan delivery only makes Colsen grin. “What about you, Raiden?”
“I have a standing reservation with a TV dinner, and one particularly climactic Judge Judy rerun, but I could be persuaded to cancel,” he jests, crossing his arms and rocking backward on the heels of his feet.
“That’s sad, man, but kudos to you for admitting that in front of Andi.
It’s great you feel comfortable enough to speak so openly about your lackluster personal life,” Colsen jabs playfully, his quick retort making me laugh.
“Here’s a better idea: you both join us for dinner.
I can’t promise it’s going to be a meal worthy of a Michelin star, but it’ll definitely be more palatable than the shit you’re planning to microwave.
” He aims the dig at Raiden, his nose crinkling in disgust at whatever image his mind has conjured.
“We’d love to,” I interject, cutting off what’s sure to be a polite refusal from Raiden. “Can I take a quick shower first?”
“Of course,” Colsen agrees, shifting the weight of the bags he’s still holding. “Just come on over whenever you’re ready.”
“Sounds good.”
I smile and politely excuse myself, but the two of them remain standing at the foot of the steps, talking too quietly for me to make out anything they’re saying.
I’d be a fool to think it’s about anything other than me, but whatever it is they feel the need to discuss, I’m not bothered by it.
It’s almost endearing, the way they’re all in cahoots to ensure I don’t fall victim to a case of too stupid to live.
Sure, it was careless of me to wander off in the wee hours of the morning yesterday, especially in a place I’m not familiar with, but I’ve spent my entire life plotting every action methodically, to either counter my parents’ shortcomings or to avoid reprisal from Veritas.
Now that life-or-death choices no longer hinder my thought process, I’m free to make the rash decisions I’ve been deprived of, regardless of how unwise they are.
Once inside, I sift through my meager stack of clothing for something appropriate to wear.
My options are limited, so I opt for a T-shirt-style dress, the heathered navy color making my blue eye appear more vibrant.
I quickly shed my day-old outfit and step inside the shower.
The hot spray of water sluicing over my skin feels heavenly, but I don’t have time to relish it.
I wash my hair and body, then spend the next ten minutes drying off and brushing out the tangles twisting my auburn strands.
I strategically maneuver myself away from the mirror, not wanting to catch sight of my nude form.
I’m fearful of noticing the changes my body is undergoing, because then I wouldn’t be able to deny the truth any longer.
My breasts are tender to the touch, and I’m certainly more tired–though that could be chalked up to the bone-deep weariness I’ve accumulated over the years.
It won’t take long for more side effects to make themselves known, so I intend to soak up every second of this in-between state I’m living in.
The one where no one knows my secret, where I’m not looked at oddly or whispered about in a pitying manner.
I slip the dress on and gently pull my hair free from the collar.
The damp strands reach halfway down my back, but I have no way of securing them.
It’s a menial problem to have, so the wetness seeping through the thin material doesn't bother me all that much.
The apartment is quiet when I finally make my way out, so I assume Raiden decided to join the others instead of awkwardly waiting in the living room while I showered.
Slipping on a pair of sandals that were donated to me, I head across the courtyard, pushing my nerves aside before knocking lightly on the heavy wood door.
“It’s open!” someone yells from the other side.
Easing it inward, I come face-to-face with Briggs. His arms are crossed, feet planted wide as he stares down his nose at me, an infuriating smirk tugging the corner of his mouth to one side.
“Long time, no see, Angel,” he croons casually, that idiotic moniker making my eye twitch.
I stare back blandly, aware that he’s only trying to get a rise out of me, then shoulder past him to greet the others.
I spot Colsen first, but there’s a reason my attention is drawn to him.
He’s standing in the kitchen, a frilly pink apron tied around his neck and waist. My eyes widen at the sight, the stunned expression I’m sporting forcing a choked laugh from Raiden.
I glance to the side, finding him seated at a built-in bar.
The tiled backsplash framing it looks to be made from a thousand pieces of seaglass, the waning sunlight causing a kaleidoscope of colors to paint the walls.
It’s too pretty not to pause and marvel at, so I do just that.