Forty-Four
Cullen
Something’s wrong.
I knew it the moment Hudson promised to talk to me. I could see it in the tightness of his mouth, the way he avoided my eyes, the way he rushed out of here…
I scramble for my phone, dialing his number.
It rings four times before his raspy voice comes over the line. “Hey, Baby—”
“Yo, it’s Hud. Leave a message—”
“Damnit!” I hang up and try again, sweat breaking out on my upper lip.
Three unanswered calls later, my unease explodes into full-blown panic. My heart punches inside my chest, fear screaming that Hud may do something irreversible.
I hobble downstairs as fast as I can without aggravating my injuries. My ribs are the worst of it, thanks to that psycho, but right now, I don’t feel the pain. Hudson is all that matters.
“Hey, sweetheart. We just heard Hudson leave. How did your talk go?” Mom asks. She’s at the stove working on dinner while Dad’s sorting through paperwork at the table.
“I don’t know. I have this bad feeling. I called, but he didn’t answer.”
“Maybe he just needs some time,” Dad says. “Hearing about what happened likely hit him hard.Hudson takes on more guilt than anyone should, especially when it’s not his to carry.”
“I know,” I growl. “But he was different today. I don’t know how to explain it… I just can’t shake the feeling that something’s really wrong.”
“Well, we have instincts for a reason,” Mom placates. “Maybe Dad can drive you over to his house after dinner so you can check on him.”
Something tells me not to wait that long.
“I’m going now.”
I turn toward the front door, but Dad stops me. “Cull, you’re not cleared to drive yet.”
“I don’t care,” I yell, my voice strangled and pitched higher than normal.
Dad assesses me for a second, then gets up and kisses Mom on the cheek. “I’ll drive him,” he says. “We’ll be back in thirty.”
Mom gives him a grateful smile, then wraps me in a soft hug. “Don’t stay too long. You need to be resting.”
I grab my keys hanging by the door, but Dad plucks them from my hand.
“I said I’ll drive.” He’s firm but calm, already moving through the door.
I follow him outside, my pulse pounding in my ears. He unlocks my truck and opens the passenger door, a quiet gesture that shows he knows how much this means to me. I slide in without protest, appreciative even if I don’t voice it out loud.
We pull out onto the road toward Hudson’s house, my knee bouncing and jostling my sore ribs.
“Dad, I know you’re not supposed to talk about your patients, but I think Hudson might fall into a gray area.”
He chuckles softly. “Yeah, I guess he does. I can answer a few things without crossing any lines.”
I take a steadying breath. “Um… has he ever said anything about wanting to hurt himself? O-or…” I trail off, unable to say it out loud.
Dad’s posture shifts, more alert. “Why do you ask? Has he said something to you?”
I hesitate, not wanting to betray Hud, but if there was ever a time to divulge what I know, it’s now. “A few weeks ago, before we got together, I went over to his place and found him in the middle of an episode. He was clutching his pill bottles. He said he just wanted it all to stop.” The memory feels like lead. I swallow hard, trying not to panic.
