Chapter 2
Chapter two
Cullen
Iroll the small bottle of bubbles between my palms, the plastic long warmed from my skin. They were bought on a whim from the gift shop during one of my late-night walks through the hospital. I remember thinking of Hud when I saw them—how we've turned bubbles into an inside joke when we're sad.
But I think I bought them more for myself than for Hudson.
Because my sadness is suffocating.
It feels like I never left the river. Like I’ve been pulled into its dark depths and can’t find the surface.
The only thing keeping me anchored is the monitor. That steady beep. Over and over. Proof that Hudson’s heart is still trying.
Everything else in this room feels like a reminder of how close we’ve come to losing him anyway.
I keep hearing Dr. Mansley’s voice in fragments.
Aggressive pneumonia. Oxygen turned up higher than it should’ve needed to be. Antibiotics so strong that he called it a “heroic dose,” something he mentioned only having to administer one other time in his thirty years in medicine.
At least it did what it was supposed to do, and the pneumonia is finally gone.
The seizures came after that.
My eyes scrunch closed at the memory.
I was holding Hud’s hand when it happened—a twitch. Enough movement to give me hope that he was waking up after they decreased his sedative.
Then his whole body locked up, arching off the bed. Every monitor screamed at once.
The sound still echoes in my ears.
Nurses flooded in before I could even stand. Someone pulled me back, and I remember my hands grabbing at Hudson, wanting to stay with him in case he…
They shoved me into the hallway instead.
My knees hit the floor before I even knew I was falling, the wall cold against my back. I remember pressing my forehead into my hands and just begging for it not to be the end.
It was a tense half hour while I waited.
But they were able to stabilize him.
After that, they upped his sedative again to prolong the coma. Said his brain needed more healing time.
It’s been two weeks.
Two weeks of him lying here while the world keeps moving without him.
I’ve been here most of the time, only switching with his parents so someone is always in the room, even if there is nothing to do but sit and stare at Hud.
Hadley came once. It’s the only time she’s attempted to see him.
She looked at him, and her face crumpled. Then she was gone, racing down the hallway, her sobs trailing behind her.
Now she just stays in the waiting room with Ella.
Ugh. Ella.
She’s been mostly quiet, introspective like the rest of us. She waits her turn to see Hud, then returns to the waiting room. I’m trying not to be an ass and shadow her whenever she is in there with him, but our last interaction is still fresh in my mind.
Her walking away holding Hudson’s hand after she told me that it’s best if I let him go is burned into my brain, and it’s not something I’ll be forgiving her for anytime soon—if at all.
I also don’t trust that she won’t swipe Hud’s IV and get a hit of whatever meds he’s on. The girl has been high most of the time she’s been here.
Matt and Archer also come by often, sitting with me in the waiting room while someone else is visiting Hud. They keep trying to get me to go out for lunch, or even just for some fresh air, but I always refuse. I don’t leave the hospital unless forced by my parents.
A knock on Hudson’s door pulls my eyes away from the bubbles in my hand. I set them down on the table next to the bed and turn just as Janine, the head nurse, walks in holding a vase of flowers.
“I thought you might still be here,” she says, a bright smile on her face.
All of the nurses have been great, making sure we have everything we need. They’ve taken such great care of Hudson, and us too, that I know we will never be able to thank them enough.
“Just giving Hud’s parents a break. They needed to go home and rest.”
She gives me a stern look, setting the flowers down next to the bubbles. “You need your rest, too. I don’t think I’ve seen such shadowed eyes since I watched the last Tim Burton movie.”
I catch my reflection in the small mirror across the room. My green eyes are dull and ringed in purple circles. My hair is greasy and limp on my forehead, my skin pale and drawn.
I look like shit.
It’s a physical reflection of how I feel on the inside.
Janine is standing there, hands on her hips, looking every inch the motherly type that she is. She raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to say something.
“I rest…” It’s a lie, but I don’t know what else she wants me to say.
“Liar.” She sighs and goes to the computer, pulling up Hudson’s chart. “But I’ll give you a pass because it’s always nice to see your handsome face.”
I snort a tired laugh, and she winks at me.
“Okay, looks like they began reducing his medicine again to start bringing him out of the coma.” She keeps reading over Hudson’s chart and inputting information.
“What?” I ask, completely unaware that the doctors made that call. Hudson’s parents gave the medical staff the green light to share Hudson’s medical info with me. I didn’t ask that of them, but I’m appreciative that they did.
“When did they start that?” Panic balloons in my chest. The last time they tried it didn’t go so well.
“Hmm… It’s time-stamped last night around midnight. They’ll gradually reduce it over the next few days, and hopefully by Friday, he’ll be awake.” She glances over at me, a gentle smile on her face. “I know that expression, and don’t worry. His latest brain scans look great.”
My heart feels like it’s going to thud out of my chest, excitement and fear sprinting through me. I can’t wait to see his ocean eyes again. It feels like forever since I’ve been able to get lost in the blue depths.
But I’m terrified, too.
Dr. Mansley and Dad both warned us that we won’t know the extent of Hudson’s condition until he’s conscious.
It’s possible that his brain bleed caused irreparable damage, like amnesia, or an entirely different personality.
Of course, those are the rarest and most extreme cases, but they don’t freak me out any less.
Dad did say we could expect him to wake up confused. Most people do when they have tubes shoved down their throats and no way of remembering how they got there.
Speaking of the ventilator…
“Will they remove the breathing tube before then?” I ask, hopeful that I can finally kiss him without the tubes in the way.
Now that his pneumonia has cleared, we don’t have to wear the PPE anymore, and it’s been comforting to feel Hudson’s warm skin beneath my fingers.
I’ve needed the contact, and I like to think Hud can feel it too.
She closes down the computer and comes to stand at the foot of the bed, looking at Hud.
“Unfortunately, no. His lungs were too compromised, so he needs the vent to continue to breathe and heal. If, after he wakes, he shows promising signs of normal lung function, then they will remove it. But not before he’s ready. ”
I deflate back into the chair, a heavy sigh leaving me.
“I know it’s been hard, but he is getting better.” She reminds me he’s not had a seizure in over a week, and his heart is as strong as it should be for an eighteen-year-old. It does little to ebb my worries, but I’m trying to stay positive.
She leaves the room, the sound of the machines my only company.
The flowers catch my eye, a small card nestled between two dark red roses. I pluck the card from the plastic holder, unfold it… and freeze.
My blood runs cold.
Petals fall, the river cries.
I watched you step, watched you fly.
Roses red, forget-me-nots blue.
No last breath taken, because I saved you.
The door to Hudson’s room opens, and I jump so hard the chair falls over. Ella walks in, her own bouquet in her hand. She spots me, her eyes flying to the little white card in my shaking hands.
I clutch my chest, trying to keep my heart inside its cavity.
“Hey,” she says, voice hushed. “Everything alright?”
“Sit with him for a minute, will you?” I side-step her and make for the door.
“Cullen? What’s going—”
I’m in the hallway before she can finish her sentence, making a beeline to the nurses’ station. Janine is sitting at her computer, typing away.
“Janine, who delivered the flowers you brought to Hud’s room?” The words come out in a rush, my throat tight.
She looks up from her screen, a thoughtful look on her face. “Just a delivery guy, I assume. He told me which room, then left.” Her brows pinch, her eyes questioning.
My heart is racing, my palms sweaty.
Was he here?
Was he able to get this close to Hudson, even in the hospital?
Footsteps echo down the corridor, my paranoia spiking. I turn, weights falling away from my shoulders when I see Hudson's Dad coming towards me. His smile falters when he sees the panic on my face.
“What’s wrong? Is it Hudson?”
Words failing me, I just shake my head and hand him the card. I watch his eyes fly across the words, over and over, his face stoic.
“Who sent this?” he asks, voice harsh.
“Janine brought a bouquet to Hud. Said some guy delivered them and told her which room.”
He shoves past me and stalks to Hudson’s room. I follow behind him, Ella watching us as we file in. Mr. Daniels grabs some sterile gloves from the box hanging on the wall, then walks to Hudson’s bedside table. “Which one?”
“Cullen, what’s going on?” Ella asks, moving out of the way.
I ignore her. “The red and blue bouquet.”
Mr. Daniels picks up the vase, carefully examining each flower. “I’m going to call the detective and see if they can get someone down here to fingerprint the vase.” He walks out, the door closing softly behind him.
“Are you just going to keep ignoring me?”
Ella’s grating voice makes my jaw clench, but I do my best to keep my words even. “He sent Hud flowers… with a pretty messed-up card.”
Her eyes widen to saucers, her mouth moving as if she’s trying to formulate words. “That’s scary,” she whispers.
Yeah, no shit.
She fidgets, playing with a bracelet on her wrist. “Um, Cullen? I want to apol—”
“Ella,” I snarl, still on edge. “I’m in no mood for mindless small talk, and I don’t give a damn about whatever bullshit apology you were about to give.”
Her nostrils flare, but she doesn’t try to argue. She gives Hud a sad look, then walks out of his room, once again leaving me with nothing but the deafening sound of machines.
Sighing, I sink down into the chair next to the bed, a small tear dripping from my eye. I grab Hudson’s hand, bringing it to my lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. I rest my cheek on our clasped hands, my gaze steady on Hud.
“He’ll never touch you, baby. I swear it.” My breath hitches, my chest in a constant vice. “I’m going to fight like hell for you. I'm going to be strong for you.”
Another tear falls before I swipe it away.
“And when you wake up,” I whisper, my voice resolute. “We’re going to fight—together.”
Resolve settles within my bones, a fierce determination like I’ve never felt before. This fucker thinks they can take Hud away from us, from me, and live to tell the tale?
He’s in for a rude awakening.