Chapter 23 #2
I’m empty.
I want Hudson—need him, but my parents made it clear that not getting to see him is part of my punishment. They took away my anchor, and now I’m drifting.
He texted after I left my appointment, but my answers were curt. He’s the best because he knew even over text I wasn’t in the right headspace for a conversation.
He reads me so easily. He sees the stuff that I refuse to look at.
That is, until Maria forced my fears out from the depths of my brain and I couldn’t ignore them anymore.
Ever since I got home from my therapy session yesterday, everything has been one giant emotional fog. There are brief flashes of clarity, but they’re always fueled by this hopeless anger.
I can acknowledge I’m angry. I can acknowledge that this isn’t healthy.
But this is my punishment.
I feel guilty for being mad at him when he couldn’t help what was going on. Mad at myself for being hopeful that his subtle comments about death were just flippant remarks. For not taking them seriously. For being stupid enough to think that love was enough to save him.
My parents have steered clear of me since I got home, and that’s just another thing I feel guilty about.
Dad immediately tried to get me to spill my guts about my session, but in that annoying psychoanalytical way.
Not coming right out and asking what he means, but asking roundabout questions hoping that I’d tell him everything.
I blew up at him.
Blamed him for why Hudson jumped. For being a shitty psychiatrist. For not caring enough about Hudson and just serving him with the bare minimum like he was just another patient.
I told him it was his fault that I’m fucked up now, because “what kind of psychiatrist lets their own kid fall this far?”
He stood there and took it, which killed me. Him walking away without a word is what brought me upstairs and had me punching the wall and screaming at the top of my lungs.
My throat aches just as much as my knuckles.
I’ve sat here all night, just looking through that hole. It’s a physical manifestation of how I feel.
Crumbling around the edges and empty on the inside.
I don’t know which way is up and my body feels disconnected from my mind.
A gentle knock on the door does little to startle me. I don’t acknowledge it, assuming it’s just Mom coming to check on me again. The door is locked, so she can’t get in, but I did manage to tell her to leave me alone the last time she came by.
There is some shuffling on the other side of the door, then something scratching against the wood. A tiny click registers before someone is squatting in front of me, strong hands cupping my face.
“Cull? Babe, look at me.”
Hudson.
My eyes shift and focus, the crystal blue of Hud’s irises coming into view.
“There you are,” he says softly, his thumbs swiping underneath my eyes. “Your mom called me. She’s worried about you.”
My stare stays intent on Hudson, every beautiful detail of his face on full display. He glances down, taking in my battered hand then looks behind him, seeing the two fist-sized holes in the wall.
“Come on, we are going to the doctor.”
I let him pull me to standing, his arm circling my waist. He leads me to the bed and helps me sit, then grabs my sneakers, sliding the first, then the second on and tying them for me.
Then his arm is back around me, leading me downstairs.
“Stay right here.” He leaves me standing in the foyer, my eyes downcast. He’s back a couple of minutes later, my mom right behind him.
Hud takes my swollen hand and presses an ice pack to my tender knuckles.
“Hold that there, okay?” He turns and says something to my mom, but I can’t make it out over the static in my ears.
Mom comes over, full of concern and sadness. “Hudson is going to take you somewhere after you get done at urgent care, okay?”
My shrug is feeble at best. She kisses my cheek, then turns and disappears into the living room.
Hud takes me by the elbow and leads me outside to his Bronco, opening the door and helping me in. The engine roars to life, then he’s driving us away from my house and towards town. He keeps his hand on my knee while he drives, not saying anything.
Once we get to the urgent care, Hud takes care of everything. I guess it’s fortunate that Archer’s mom is the physician here; otherwise, I’d be forced to communicate, and words just seem too hard right now.
Hud helps me get situated on the exam table, the thin paper crinkling under my weight. He doesn’t move to sit in one of the chairs, opting to stand next to me and rub my back. I instinctively lean towards him, that ever-present tether keeping us close.
A nurse comes in to do all the pre-exam things, like taking my temperature and blood pressure, and asking about my medical history. Unfortunately, Hud can only answer so many questions for me, and I’m forced to speak for the first time in hours.
Once the nurse is satisfied, she has me follow her to the X-ray room, where she takes multiple pictures of my hand. She leads me back to the exam room, where we wait for Archer’s mom to come in.
Thankfully, it’s only a few minutes before there is a rap on the door. Dr. Oaks pokes her head in, a bright smile on her face. “Well, boys, didn’t expect to see you here today.”
My head stays down, my good hand cradling my fucked up one. I watch from my peripherals as Dr. Oaks walks over to Hudson and pulls him into a hug.
I remember her coming to the hospital with Archer a couple of times, but I was always so out of it that I never spoke to her. Probably another thing I should feel like garbage about.
“Okay, Cullen, I have some good news. Your hand isn’t broken, just very badly bruised. You also managed to avoid further damage to that broken pinky. It’ll probably take a couple of weeks to fully heal, so no more MMA fighting.”
I look up at her teasing and give her a forced, tight smile.
“There isn’t much I can do in office, but I’m going to prescribe you some anti-inflammatories that are a little stronger than the over-the-counter stuff. Other than that, it’s going to be rest, ice, and elevation. Treat it like any other soccer injury you’ve gotten.”
“Thanks, Dr. Oaks,” Hud answers for me.
Dr. Oaks comes up to me and puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. My eyes connect with hers, full of concern and care.
“He’s right here, Cullen.” She gestures to Hud. “He’s healthy. He’s here with us. With you. I can see the shadows behind your eyes, but you have to find a way to let them go. Alright?”
She gives us both one last smile, then exits the room.
“Come on, babe.” Hud helps me off the table and we head to the reception desk to pick up my prescription.
“We can drop your prescription off and come back for it later. It’ll probably take a while to be filled,” he explains, navigating us out of the Urgent Care parking lot.
“Okay,” I mumble.
“While we wait, I want to take you somewhere.”
My shoulders hitch, not caring what we do. I close my eyes, letting Hudson lead me wherever he wants, but after a while, the smooth ride gives way to rough dirt and gravel.
My eyes fly open, the memory of red and blue lights flashing off the pines, and the feeling of being jostled as we follow the ambulance back down the dirt road fills my body.
“Hudson, what the fuck are we doing?” No point in masking my anger and panic.
“Trust me?” Hud asks, his voice calm and sure.
“Are we really going to—”
“It’s time we face the river.”