I could easily just go to sleep and never wake up.
No one needs me.
I’d be doing them a favor.
Why won’t it all just stop?
Please just make it stop.
Please…
Fifteen
Cullen
I think staking out Hudson’s location twice in five days makes me an official stalker. If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck… yup—I’m a duck.
I’m determined to see him today, though, even if neighborhood watch gets called on me. A few nosy curtain-twitchers have been staring at me from their windows since I parked here at 7:30 a.m. I just gave them my best panty-melting smile and a wave, and they went back to minding their own business.
A heavy yawn escapes me, making my eyes water. I tossed and turned all night, my mind refusing to accept that Hudson is just sick. So when I woke up this morning, I decided to drive over and try my luck at seeing him. If he doesn’t leave for school, then I’m breaking in. I mean, I’ll use the hide-a-key… but still. I just need the other two people in the house to leave.
His dad left a couple of minutes ago, dressed in a polo with his architecture firm’s logo and a pair of khakis, so he’s obviously gone to work. Hadley will take off, too, but it’s his mom I’m worried about. She was home yesterday, so she might be sticking around to look after Hud.
My dashboard clock reads eight. School starts in twenty minutes, so Hudson and Hadley should be walking out the door any moment now. My knee bounces. I’m half tempted to just go knock and hope for the best.
It’s not two minutes later when Hadley and her mom step outside.Bingo. Mrs. Nora is dressed in a black pantsuit, so I’m hoping that means she’s heading to work, too. I catch her glancing up at Hudson’s window with a worried expressionbefore she turns and gets into her car and drives off. Hadley idles in her white Audi coupe for a moment, then pulls out and heads toward school.
I put my truck in drive and pull into the now-empty driveway. Hudson’s Bronco must be in the garage. Or, he left before I got here forty-five minutes ago. I highly doubt that, though.
I jog up the front porch steps and head straight for the large black ceramic planter. Tilting it to the side, I snag the spare key they keep hidden underneath. I slot it into the deadbolt, then the doorknob, and push the door open. A quiet breath of relief escapes me when the alarm doesn’t go off. Turning back to the plant, I return the key to its hiding spot.
“Hud?” I call out, stepping inside.
No answer.
I sweep the downstairs, calling for him, but nothing. My chest tightens as I start up the stairs, a million questions racing through my mind.
I walk up to his shut door and press my ear to the wood. Nothing.Maybe he’s sleeping.
“Hud, it’s me,” I announce, just loud enough for him to hear. I don’t want to startle him if he’s passed out.
“Go away, Cullen.” His voice is barely audible—raspy and broken, like it’s been through a blender.
“I’m just here to check on you. I’ve been worried, man. I get that you’re probably still angry, but I just needed to make sure you’re okay.”
He doesn’t reply, but I hear a faint sound coming from the other side of the door. I hold my breath and lean in, trying to make it out.
Is he crying?
The hair on my arms stands at the sound. Hudson never cries. He’s always so happy, almost like an excited puppy. Thelast time I remember him crying was two years ago, when we sat on the bridge over the Jones River after his family had to put their dog Juniper down. They’d gotten her the same year the twins were born, so losing her was like losing a sibling.
So, if he’s crying now, something is very wrong.
I turn the knob, but it’s locked, so I knock again. Then once more, harder.
“Hudson, please, man. Let me in. You’re my best friend, and if something’s wrong, let me be there for you. Whatever it is, you’re not alone.”
I don’t know what made me say those exact words, but the second they leave my mouth, I know they’re the right ones.
