I hang up and take a deep breath. I don’t want to come in guns blazing, but I need answers. Why all the lies? And why does Ella always get to know first?
Why can’t Hud just be honest with me?
I pull into his driveway. He’s sitting in one of the black rocking chairs, scrolling his phone, a soft smile spreading across his face. I walk up the steps and settle into the empty chair beside him.
“What are you looking at?” I ask.
He tilts the screen toward me. It’s a photo of us dancing at prom—me, him, and Ella, all laughing.
“Who took that?”
“Archer. He just sent it to me.”
“Send it to me, too.” A second later, my phone buzzes with the image.
His smile fades. “Where were you? I got worried after you said to scratch meeting behind the field house.”
“I got another note in my locker.” It comes out flat, tired. “Right after I found out you’ve gotteneight moreand didn’t tell me.”
Guilt flashes across his face.
“I was pissed about you keeping secrets—again—so I had decided to ditch the rest of the day. Guess what I found under my windshield wiper when I got to the parking lot?”
He doesn’t answer, just stares at me, breaths jagged.
“It was another picture,” I tell him, my knee bouncing. “This time of us in my front yard before prom… with my face scratched out.” I laugh, but there is no humor in it. “You could’ve warned me that this was escalating, but no. Just more secrets.”
Hudson leans his head back against the rocker and squeezes his eyes shut like he’s trying to will the world away.
“How’d you find out about the letters?” he asks after a moment, voice rough.
I scoff. “Your bestie Ella made sure the entire lunch table knew.”
He flinches, and something bitter rises in my throat.
“I don’t get it, Hud. You tell her everything. She knew about your mental health first—that you were gay. You told her about the notes. Why can’t you open up to me?”
His head jerks toward me. “Idoopen up to you,” he snaps defensively.
“Really?” I shake my head. “Because it feels like I’m the last to know anything important. You promised you’d stop keeping things from me, but here we are again. And I can’t protect you if you won’t let me in—”
“Because I’m trying to protectyou!” he explodes, flinging his hands out.
My stomach drops as a bolt of shock runs through me. Hudson rarely raises his voice, and seeing him snap like this rattles something in me.
“You’re not the only one who feels like they have to take care of someone,” he goes on, voice cracking. “I want that for you, too. Iwantto be someone you can lean on. But I didn’t want you to see how bad things were getting. I didn’t want to be the reason you were afraid. So yeah, I kept things from you.” His voice splinters. “I don’t want you to get tired of me. To look at me one day and decide I’m too much hassle. My dad was right.”
“Hud… no—”
“This is me trying,” he interrupts. “Trying to be good for you. To be strong for you. To beworthyof you. I’m trying to shield you from the fear. From the weight I carry.”
He stands like he’s done with the conversation, done with me.
“Baby, wait,” I beg, rising and stepping in front of him. “Why are you really mad?”
He stops. “Because, Cullen,” he snaps, my name sounding bitter. “We talk about forever, but it’s not realistic. You think you can handle all of me, but you’ve not seen the worst. I can’t protect you from me forever. Eventually, you're going to get sick of the breakdowns, the panic attacks, the meds.”
I swallow, his words lies that his brain has made up.
