The phone hits its third ring, so I quickly tap accept on the screen and do my best to level out my voice when I answer.
“Hey, Mom,” I rasp.
“Hi, love. Where are you? I didn’t realize you left this morning until Hadley mentioned your car was gone,” she says casually, completely unaware of the storm I’m in.
I don’t deserve her. I just bring her stress and heartache. Same goes for Dad.
I’m crying quietly, desperately trying to keep the despair out of my voice. “I went to meet Cullen, but I’m—I…” I trail off, my sobs audible now.
“Hudson? Love, what’s wrong?” The alarm in my mom’s voice cracks me wide open.
I put too much strain on my parents. They’re the most wonderful, selfless people I know, and they have to put everything on hold whenever my brain fractures into a million pieces. It’s why I push myself to excel at school and avoid making waves. It’s my way of trying to lighten their load.
“Mama,” I gasp.
I can’t get any air in my lungs, and my arms are tingly. I’m doing my best to stay focused on the road, more worried about hitting someone else than I am about my own life.
Why even try?
These attacks are just going to keep happening because I’m fractured. Cull sees it. And he doesn’t deserve a pathetic best friend any more than my parents deserve a broken son.
“Hudson, I need you to breathe,” she encourages, her voice warm and firm. “Where are you? Dad will come get you.”
“Driving,” I croak out.
I blink through my heavy tears, thankful that I recognize the houses I’m passing.
Almost home.
I turn onto the familiar corner and see our white-brick, traditional Southern-style house. Both of my parents are standing on the lawn, pacing, as I pull into the driveway.
My dad rushes over to my door and pulls it open. I swing my legs out and try to stand, but they give out beneath me. He just manages to keep me from busting my knees on the hard concrete, catching me in a bear hug to keep me upright.
“It’s okay, Hudson. I’ve got you.”
I clutch onto my dad, breaking down harder, ashamed of my failure to be normal.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m s-so sorry you have to p-put up with me,” I choke out.
He cradles my head against his chest and just holds me while I cry. “Shh, son. Don’t you dare say that.” His voice hitches, guilt shooting straight to my heart. “Your mom and I, we consider it our greatest joy in life to be your parents.”
I feel a soothing hand comb through my hair, followed by a kiss to the top of my head.
Mom.
“Let’s get you inside.” Her tenderness only makes the guilt seep deeper in my chest.
Sobs continue to shake my body, tears soaking into my dad’s shirt. He shifts, sliding one arm under my legs and the other around my back. My arms lock tightly around his solid neck as he lifts and carries me up the front porch steps and into the house like I’m a toddler, and not his eighteen-year-old son.
It’s not the first time he’s had to do this, but it always surprises me how easy it is for him. He might be in his mid-forties, but he’s as strong as ever.
We make it up the stairs and into my bedroom, Dad repeating a positive affirmation the whole way. “You’re strong, Hudson. Don’t forget that.”
I don’t know if I’ll ever believe I’m strong. I wouldn’t be having regular mental breakdowns if I were.
Dad carefully places me on my bed, and Mom kneels down to untie my laces, tugging off my shoes with practiced care. I’m still crying, though not as hard as before. My breathing is still stuttered, making my head feel like it’s floating away.
“Did your medicine not help?” Mom asks.
