A sharp pain flares in my chest. It feels like the lifeline between Hudson and me is starting to fray. I press a hand to it, trying to hold it together.
“Dad,” I choke out, “step on it. Please.”
“The road is just up ahead. Stay calm, Cullen. We don’t know what we’re about to walk into,” he warns. “If you can’t hold it together, I’ll need you to stay in the truck.”
My jaw locks, but I nod.
Dad makes the left off the main road and onto the dirt path. The car jolts with every bump, ratcheting up my anxiety. We speed through the break in the trees into the clearing where Hudson’s Bronco is parked in the usual spot.
I do a quick scan of the area, my eyes landing on the bridge.
My heart slams to a stop.
“Dear God…” Dad mutters.
The truck skids to a stop, then I’m out and running. My eyes lock on Hudson, standing on the railing, face turned toward the setting sun, his expression broken. Resigned.
“HUDSON!” I scream, raw and desperate.
He takes a deep breath.
Then steps off.
Time slows as I watch Hudson fall, crashing hard into the river below, the violent splash of water echoing off the pines.
I don’t think. I sprint down the bank and plunge into the cool water, swimming toward where he went under. Dad isyelling behind me, but I block it out. The only thing that matters is getting to Hudson.
My ribs scream and my skull pounds, but it doesn’t matter. I just keep swimming.
I reach the area where the water still ripples and frantically yell his name.
“HUDSON!”
I dive under, the river’s murky water swallowing me whole. Flashes of us at thirteen, when he had to save me, flicker in my mind. Same river. Same golden hour sun. But this time, I’m the one trying to save him.
The water stings my eyes, pitch black below the surface. I flail blindly, praying to feel anything—skin, fabric, or a hand.
Nothing.
The river is too deep.
Too dark.
I burst back up, gasping, my lungs screaming in pain.
“I’ll go down.” My dad’s voice is sudden, and right beside me. I hadn’t even realized he followed me in.
I suck a ragged breath and scan the water again, heart pounding in my throat. The current could have carried Hudson down a ways…
Or he could have been dragged down into its depths.
Please God, let him be alive.
Near one of the bridge columns, just beneath the surface, I see a flicker of white. The material is caught on a massive tree limb.
It’s a shirt.
“Dad!” I scream, pulling on his arm under the water next to me.
