Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Cullen
Iwake to the sound of my own voice screaming—or at least I thought I was screaming.
It’s just a memory, though, one that haunts me constantly.
My heart is pounding, and the vision of Hudson’s broken body lying sprawled in the overgrown grass by the river refuses to dissipate from my mind.
My palms are sweaty against my face as I try to rub the sleep from my eyes, my teeth aching from clenching.
The deep-rooted fear that this could all happen again one day consumes my every thought. I think I’m slowly coming to understand how easy it was for Hudson to listen to the lies his brain told him, because irrational fears are sometimes easier to accept than reality.
Hud still has shadows, but they don’t seem to own him anymore. Mine keep threatening to drag me under.
My darkness isn’t like Hudson’s.
It’s more malicious.
More violent.
Each time I have to relive those moments from the day Hud jumped, I retreat a little further into myself. The anger gets louder, harder to igno—
Rolling over, I sit up on the side of my bed, head bowed. My hands scrub down my face as I force the thoughts away.
I can’t let him see that I’m not okay.
Hudson wants me to come over later for our Sunday hang out, something we haven’t done in months. It’ll be like before we started dating, just playing PlayStation and stuffing our faces full of junk food.
Except now, I can kiss him whenever I want.
That should make me smile.
Instead, all I can think about is Mason.
The police lack evidence that it’s him, so maybe that’s what I need to do. Find the right evidence to finally get him put the hell away for good.
I shove off my bed and grab some clothes from my dresser, throwing them on haphazardly. I speed through brushing my teeth, then sneak out of the house before either of my parents have a chance to stop me.
Mom still nags me about needing rest, saying that I’m overextending myself.
I’ll rest when all this shit finally blows over.
If it ever does.
The sky has opened up, fat raindrops pelting me as I make a dash to my truck. Thunder rumbles as I slide into the driver’s seat and slam the door.
With my mind made up, I navigate my way a few neighborhoods over until I’m parked on the curb in front of Mason’s house.
It looks different through the haze of the morning thunderstorm. Not as foreboding as it was at night, but still impressive in its size. The grass has been cut since the last time Hud and I snuck in. Weird, considering the rest of the place is an unkempt shithole.
Swiping my hand under the seat, my fingers snag the cold metal of my gun. I make sure the safety is on before I shove it in the back of my waistband, adjusting my shirt so it covers the bulge. Taking a deep breath, I open my truck door and make a mad dash for the cover of the front porch.
My shirt is soaked through, my hair dripping onto my face. Another loud crack of thunder makes me jump, my pulse kicking harder.
“Pull it the fuck together, Cull,” I growl quietly. I shake out the excess energy from my arms, then gently turn the front door knob, the wood creaking as the door swings inward. Steeling my spine, I step over the threshold, straining my ears for any sounds in the house.
The howling wind and the creaking of the foundation are the only sounds I hear. Relaxing a little, I pull my phone out and switch on the flashlight. Making sure the door is shut behind me, I creep deeper into the house, sweeping the light across every surface.
This place feels like a tomb.
Heavy drapes cover every window, letting in only thin slashes of gray light. Shadows jump across the walls whenever my flashlight moves, and dust swirls around my shoes with every step.
I make it to the living room, which seems to be the only clean space in the house.
There are wrinkled sheets and pillows on the couch, and takeout containers that I don’t recall being here the last time.
The same family photos line the walls, and bookshelves packed with knick-knacks and books look to be in pristine condition.
Booming thunder rattles the house, causing dust particles to float down from the ceiling. I sneeze, the sound loud inside the quiet house.
“Bless you.”
I freeze.
My heart kicks into overdrive, the organ practically punching me from the inside. I turn slowly, my hand moving towards my back waistband at the same time. I flash my phone in the direction of the voice, my other hand whipping up to aim the gun.
Standing in the shadows of the hallway is Mason.
For a second, I barely recognize him.
His clothes hang off his frame, dirty and torn. His dirty-blonde hair is tangled and greasy, hanging limp on his shoulders.
He looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. Like a stiff breeze could knock him over.
“Mason,” I grit out, the gun shaking in my grip.
He steps forward, hands up to show he isn’t a threat.
Yeah, right.
“Stop right there,” I snarl.
He stops, hands still in the air. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, his voice rougher than the last time I heard him speak.
I scoff. “Too late fucker. Thanks for the concussion and cracked rib.”
He cocks his head, bloodshot eyes squinted. “I don’t know what you mean.”
My hand tightens on the gun. “Spare me. Is your brain so fried from all the drugs that you can’t remember attacking me?” I growl.
“I don’t know anything about you being attacked.”
I take a step forward and he retreats one. “You’ve been terrorizing Hudson. Leaving notes and following him. You cut my brake lines. You recorded him—”
My eyes slam shut for the briefest of seconds, my finger twitching near the trigger.
“Cullen, man, I don’t know about any of that.
The police questioned me a couple of days ago, and I told them I had nothing to do with it.
” He sways on his feet, leaning against the archway of the hallway for balance.
He starts scratching his arms absently, his hands moving to his neck to do the same.
“Fucking save it. I almost lost Hudson because of you.” My arm is beginning to shake from the fatigue of holding the gun, and partly from the adrenaline that is starting to hit.
Shoot him. Get it over with.
You’ll be setting Hudson free.
The thought settles into my head like poison.
My finger tightens.
Mason must notice the moment I go dark, his eyes widening right as I cock the gun. He dives out of the way just as I squeeze the trigger, narrowly missing him as the bullet embeds into the drywall. I catch his shadow racing down the hall and take off after him.
This house is huge, and Mason has the advantage of knowing the layout, managing to dodge me at every turn. I skid into the formal dining room and fire off another shot, a glass vase exploding next to Mason as he hurries to get away from me.
“What the fuck, man? I haven’t done anything!” he screams as I continue to chase him.
What a pathetic piece of shit.
Rounding the corner Mason just disappeared around, I’m met with a golf club to the gut.
The impact hurts just enough to make me gag, but it wasn’t the forceful type swing he delivered when he jumped me.
The gun goes off again, this time from reflex.
Mason hisses and darts out a set of French doors, right into the monsoon.
I’m still a little winded from being hit, so by the time I get outside, he’s gone—like a ghost in the night.
I walk back inside and take a moment to compose myself and catch my breath. A dizzy spell hits, so I lean against the wall and screw my eyes shut. My lack of sleep and adrenaline drop are catching up to me.
My phone rings, and I jump. Hudson’s name flashes on the screen, my heart racing.
There is no way I’m telling him what just happened.
By the third ring, I’ve leveled myself out enough to answer.
“Hey, baby. I was just thinking about you,” I say in the most lighthearted tone I can muster.
“Hey, what time are you coming over? I just woke up.” He yawns through the words, and I can imagine his sleep-rumpled hair and pillow marks on his handsome face. It helps to soothe the rage that is still simmering beneath the surface.
“I’m leaving now. Want me to grab some breakfast on my way?” I turn to leave the office I’ve been standing in when I notice a few drops of red on the floor.
Blood.
My stomach drops.
I hit him.
I actually hit him.
Good riddance, fucker.
My conscience is screaming at me, and I’m suddenly torn.
Should I call the police? What if I hit something vital?
What if he calls the police?
I could go to jail…
“Cull? Babe, you still there?” Hudson’s voice cuts through my moment of panic, all anger dissipating at a rapid pace. I haul ass out of Mason’s house and don’t answer until I’m locked back inside my truck.
“Yeah, I-I’m here.”
“You alright? You sound out of breath.”
I bring my hand up to my chest, the gun smacking my sternum. I drop it like it’s a snake, suddenly terrified of the weapon I was stupid enough to use.
A crushing pressure closes and my throat, turning every breath into a struggle.
Panic has my hand flying to my neck, tears burning behind my eyes.
I feel like I’m dying.
My mouth opens to answer Hud, but nothing comes out.
A beep cuts through the panic. Hudson has switched to a video call, and without thinking, I accept, his blue eyes filling the screen.
What’s wrong?” he demands, his face concerned.
“P-panic at-tack,” I stumble out. I know that’s what this is. I’ve witnessed Hud have them a time or two now.
Hudson softens his voice. “Okay, I can help you. Follow my breathing.”
I’m grateful he didn’t ask what set me off, but I’m sure the questions will come later.
So much for not adding to his stress.
I try to follow his breathing, but my sight is getting fuzzy, the dizziness intensifying.
I’m going to be sick.
I fling open my door and vomit everywhere. It keeps coming, all while the thoughts I’ve been trying to forget rush to the surface.
Getting jumped.
Hudson on the bridge.
Hud hooked up to machines.
Mason.
The gun.
The blood.
My body is overloaded and the world starts to dim.
The last thing that registers is Hudson yelling my name…
Hudson
If I never have to come back to the hospital again, it would be too soon.
But here I am, in the ER waiting room, waiting to find out if Cullen is okay.
I knew he was having a panic attack the moment he answered my video call. I tried to help him slow his breathing, but he was in too deep.
Thank God Cull talked me into downloading a tracker app.
I gave him hell about it when he first brought it up. Everyone is still terrified I’m going to disappear again.
But in the end, I caved.
Turns out it was a good thing I did.
When he passed out, his phone slipped from his hand and landed outside his truck. Rain pelted the camera, but I could tell he wasn’t anywhere near home.
Then his location updated.
Maple Drive—Mason’s house.
Fear was the first thing that hit me. Then anger.
Cullen has been joking for weeks about finding Mason himself. Standing in my bedroom with 911 on the line, it stopped being a joke.
I called Mrs. Eliza next, my phone wedged between my ear and shoulder as I got dressed.
Cull running off to play Captain Save the Day was dumb and dangerous, but I’m in no position to lecture anyone on making bad decisions.
Obviously.
I don’t think Cull is dealing with what I did, and lately, that’s becoming a problem.
He barely sleeps anymore, and every time someone asks if he’s okay, he brushes them off.
Dr. Anderson told me at dinner last night that he’s been trying to urge Cullen to go to therapy, but they want him to make that decision on his own. He hoped that I could talk to Cull and maybe make him change his mind.
I was going to do that today, but I guess that plan’s gone to Hell.
After two hours of waiting, Cullen and Mrs. Eliza emerge through the swinging doors that lead to the emergency department.
Cull is staring down at his feet as he walks, and Mrs. Eliza looks frustrated. I stand and meet them halfway.
“Hudson, sweetheart, do you mind driving Cullen to get his truck? It was impounded after someone in the neighborhood called a tow truck.” Mrs. Eliza looks like she’s ready to spit nails. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her so mad before. Cull just stands there, head down, hands in his pockets.
“No, I don’t mind.”
Mrs. Eliza grasps Cullen’s chin, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “You will come straight home, do you hear me? We have a lot to discuss.”
He nods his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m glad you’re okay, but I have to get back to work. I already had to cancel two house showings.”
She gives me a stiff smile, then heads out into the parking lot, Cullen and I trailing behind her. He is back to staring at his shoes, his posture dejected but tense all the same.
I open the passenger door and he climbs in without a word, buckling his seatbelt before immediately fidgeting with his fingers.
Cull has never had a panic attack that I know of.
Maybe he’s embarrassed.
I crank my Bronco and navigate out of the hospital parking lot towards the only impound in town. “Are you okay?” I ask, feeling a little out of place being on the other side of this type of situation.
He shrugs, not uttering a word.
“If anyone understands what it’s like to have a panic attack, it’s me.”
Cull looks out the window, anxious energy radiating off of him. He’s usually an open book, his body language exact and sure. Now I can’t pinpoint what is going on with him.
I pull into the impound lot a few quiet moments later and shut off the car. I turn in my seat and reach over, prying his hands apart and linking my fingers with his. “Talk to me, babe. What happened today? Why were you at Mason’s?”
“You being safe means everything to me.” He says it so softly I barely hear him. “He was there.”
My breathing stops for a moment, my pulse picking up pace. I force myself to inhale deeply, then exhale it on a count of four.
“You saw him?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.
“I talked to him.”
The blood in my veins runs cold, fear I haven’t felt in weeks rearing its ugly head.
Don’t let this set you back, Hud. Believe in your strength.
I let the words loop in my mind, something Maria has told me many times.
My pulse calms as I take another deep breath.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing that matters.” Cull opens the door and hops out, making his way inside the small office.
Something is going on with Cullen, and it’s unlike him not to be open and honest. Hell, he preaches it to me enough. I just hope that whatever it is, it doesn’t drag him down. I’ve just barely broken the surface, and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to keep us both afloat.