Chapter 31
Andilyn
Tucked inside a partially hidden alcove, I peer through an observation window, in complete awe of how lively Hudson appears.
It’s like I’m watching a different child altogether, being given the faintest glimpse of how carefree and simple his life used to be.
The woman conducting his assessment grins, clapping her hands excitedly when he matches a stack of blocks to their coordinating colors.
His smile is tentative, but it’s the most expressive he’s been since I’ve known him.
I’d give anything for this to become a regular occurrence.
Through the glass, I watch as Doreen comes into view and discreetly gets the attention of Hudson’s therapist. She excuses herself, her abrupt departure not causing him any distress.
He continues playing with the blocks, pushing them across the table like they’re toy trucks instead.
My nerves begin to spike when the two women start making their way towards the alcove I’ve commandeered.
We agreed the guys should wait at the park across the street so we didn’t bombard Hudson all at once, which means I’m currently lacking the emotional support I’ve been heavily relying on.
“Andi,” Doreen greets. “I’d like you to meet Scarlett Thibedeaux. She’s Hudson’s behavioral therapist.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” I respond, extending my hand and hoping the polite smile I’m going for isn’t coming across as more of a strained grimace.
“You as well, Andi.” Scarlett beams, her fiery red hair complementing the scattering of freckles dotted across her cheeks and nose. “Hudson is such a sweetheart, and I’m thrilled to be a part of his team.”
“His team?” I question, a tad confused by her verbiage.
“Covey Pediatric Specialty Clinic is a multidisciplinary facility. It allows for one cohesive team, instead of families needing to coordinate separate appointments across different providers and locations. We each have our own area of expertise, but work closely with one another to ensure that care is consistent, well-rounded, and child-centered. For example, I’m Hudson’s ABA therapist, also known as Applied Behavior Analysis.
He’s assigned to a child psychologist and speech-language pathologist as well,” Scarlett explains, causing my head to spin.
I take a step back, using the wall for support as I try to wrap my head around everything she’s just thrown at me.
“I didn’t realize Hudson required such extensive intervention,” I mumble, my gaze tracking to the observation window once more as I watch another child take a seat at the same table. Hudson doesn’t engage, but he doesn't leave either. Small steps, I suppose.
“It sounds a bit daunting, but I assure you that Hudson will receive only the best care at Covey. We’re committed to aiding your family as you begin navigating this transitional period, so I’d like to give you each of our contact information.
My co-workers send their apologies for not being able to meet with you today, as they’re both busy with other patients.
” Family. My brain stumbles over the word, realizing I’ve never really had one before.
I take the business cards she extends and pocket them stiffly.
“I would also like to extend my sincerest condolences on behalf of the entire Covey staff. We were truly saddened to hear about Mr. Taylor.”
I swallow thickly, unsure of what to say to that. Thank you? It’s okay? Because I’m not thankful to be receiving sympathies when Seth should still be here, and it’s certainly not okay that he put me in this position to begin with. I simply nod my appreciation and move the conversation along.
“Does Hudson know about his father?” I ask quietly, though we’re completely isolated and not at risk of being overheard.
“He doesn’t.” Scarlett gives me a sympathetic smile.
“It serves no purpose to try and explain his father’s death when Hudson isn’t mature enough to understand what it actually means.
When his speech improves, he might ask for Mr. Taylor on occasion, so you’ll need to be prepared to give a response you’re comfortable with.
If you have any concerns about what would be developmentally appropriate, I suggest you speak with Hudson’s psychologist, Dr. Taggart.
” I sigh heavily, the sound jagged and filled with doubt.
I have no idea what I’m doing, and I fear my lack of knowledge is abundantly clear in the face of someone who spends her days analyzing behaviors for a living.
“Let’s take it one day at a time,” Doreen suggests, sensing my need for a subject change.
“Do you have a prognosis for Hudson?” I ask hesitantly, unconsciously holding my breath in fear of her answer.
“There’s no way for me to give you an exact timeline when there are so many factors at play, but I do believe that Hudson will be on track with his peers before too long. He has all the tools that he could need at his disposal; it’s simply up to him now.”
“And his speech?” I prod.
“While I can’t speak for his speech pathologist, from the notes we’ve shared and what she’s ascertained from his pediatrician, she doesn’t foresee it being a long-term issue,” Scarlett states.
“From our collective assessment, we believe that Hudson needs stability and to have his sense of safety restored, more than anything. His regressions are likely to sort themselves out once his home life isn’t so turbulent.
Children, especially, feed off the emotions of others.
It’s likely his father’s mental state and behaviors have affected Hudson’s as well.
” My relief is palpable, but the weight of my new responsibilities is more prominent than ever.
It’s up to us to foster an environment that provides everything Hudson needs in order for him to move forward and thrive.
“Thank you so much for taking the time to speak with us today, Ms. Thibedeaux,” Doreen interrupts. “I hate to cut our conversation short, but I have another meeting I need to be present for within the hour.”
“Of course!” Scarlett responds. “Andi, if you could fill out your contact information, I’d greatly appreciate it.
Hudson’s appointments are currently scheduled for Monday, Wednesday, and every other Friday.
If you need to check your calendar first and verify those dates work, that’s completely fine.
And if they don’t, shoot me an email and we’ll get you rescheduled for days and times that are better suited to your needs.
” She hands me a tablet, the screen revealing a blank information form, then goes to retrieve Hudson.
I hastily fill it out, my hands shaking as I wait to be reunited with my favorite little boy.
“Breathe, dear,” Doreen encourages, her smile knowing.
My head jerks up as the door opens, Hudson toddling out a second later.
“Remember this moment, Andi.” I give the sweet social worker a brief glance.
“You’re about to greet your son for the first time.
” Tears spring to my eyes as I sink to my knees, resting on my heels as Hudson finally catches sight of me.
The most amazing thing happens in the seconds that follow.
An actual smile stretches across his face, his tiny legs urging him forward so he can reach me as quickly as possible.
He grunts from the impact of slamming against my chest, and I wrap my arms around him, hand secured to the back of his head as I take a deep breath of the baby shampoo still clinging to his ringlets.
“Hey, sweet boy,” I whisper soothingly, my tears overflowing. “Did you miss me? ‘Cause I missed you. So much.” My voice cracks, my fingers trembling as I stroke Hudson’s back, wondering how I’ll let him out of my sight ever again.
Once I’ve gained a semblance of composure, we say goodbye to Scarlett and follow Doreen outside to retrieve the single bag of belongings that accompanied Hudson to his temporary foster home.
I sling the backpack over my shoulder and promise to be in touch should I have any questions or concerns before our next scheduled visit.
As she drives away, my body deflates, the stress and worry I’ve been carrying dissipating with the vanishing of her taillights.
Spinning around, I situate Hudson on my hip and begin the trek across the street to meet the guys.
“Huddy Buddy!” Briggs shouts excitedly, arms thrown in the air like he’s greeting a long-lost friend. Dayton sneers at the cutesy nickname, elbowing him out of the way so he’s the first to reach us.
“Hey, dude.” Dayton looks to me for guidance, ruffling the top of Hudson’s head somewhat awkwardly.
This is a massive adjustment for me, so I can only imagine the impact it’s having on them as well.
“Wanna go play on the playground?” Dayton points to the slide and swings, but Hudson burrows deeper against my shoulder, his tiny fingers gripping my shirt with all his might.
“I think he needs a minute to take everything in,” I whisper, hoping Dayton doesn’t take it personally.
“Of course.” He smiles, bending to place a kiss on the top of my head.
My cheeks start to heat, so I quickly sidestep the wall of persistent muscle, hoping the others haven’t been watching too closely.
But of course they have. Colsen glances between the two of us, his brows furrowing as he shoots his best friend a questioning look.
I quickly approach him, hoping to reroute his focus, and place a kiss of my own against his scruffy cheek.
His green eyes widen, lips parting in shock.
“Thank you,” I whisper, then move to Raiden.
“Thank you.” I press my lips to the stubble lining his jaw, the heat of his palm practically scorching as he rests it against my hip, the tips of his fingers dangerously close to touching my ass.