I rest my hands on his drawn-up knees, trying to ground him. “Hud, baby. I don’t know how to help you. I’m gonna call my dad, okay?”
I wait. I don’t want to overstep just because he’s my dad and Hudson’s doctor.
A hushed “okay” carries on the breeze, so I grab my phone and dial Dad’s office line. He picks up on the third ring.
“This is Dr. Anders—”
“Dad.”
“Cullen? What’s wrong? Is Mom okay?”
“Yeah, Mom’s fine. It’s Hud. He’s having a panic attack, and I don’t know what to do.”
I hear the relief in his exhale. I feel a flash of guilt for scaring him, but I don’t regret the call.
“You know you’re only supposed to call my work number for emergencies.”
“I think Hudson not being able to breathe counts as a goddamn emergency,” I snap, panic tightening my throat.
Hudson flinches at my raised voice and ducks his head, still gasping and crying.
Shit. I place my hand on the back of his neck and squeeze, trying to offer anything grounding.
“Cullen,” Dad barks. “One, watch your tone. Two, yelling won’t help him. You need to stay calm and encouraging. Try counting to four, hold the breath, then out for six, repeat. Other than that, there’s not much you can do.”
“Are you serious?”
“Son, Hudson has a panic disorder. It’s not new to him. It will pass. Just get him somewhere safe and quiet and let it run its course.”
“So what, we just wait it out? Count some breaths? That’s it?” My voice rises again. “What fucking good are you?”
“Cullen, that’s—”
I hang up, furious and frustrated. My hands are shaking.
“H-he’s right,” Hudson chokes out.
“The hell he is. There has to be something I can do.” Hudson is still shaking his head no, but I can’t just sit here and watch him suffer.
My mind scrambles for anything that might help. Then I remember something my mom said about my cousin Ivy’s newborn.Skin-to-skin contact. It helps regulate the baby’s breathing and calms them down.
Okay, Hud’s not an infant. But I’m desperate.
“Baby, I’m gonna try something, alright?”
He gives me the tiniest nod, giving me all the permission I need. I yank my shirt off, then carefully pull his over his head, letting me without question. The trust he has in me makes my heart swell with love and pride.
I toss his shirt aside and lean against the sun-bleached siding of the building. “Come straddle my lap.”
He moves like he’s on autopilot, his weight settling across my thighs. I wrap my arms around him, his bare chest pressed against mine, and cradle his head into the crook of my neck, my hand moving in slow circles down his spine.
It takes a few minutes, but he pulls in a deep breath. Then another.
“You always smell so good,” he rasps. “You’re like my own brand of smelling salts.” His voice is raw and cracked, but there’s a spark of lightness in it. Relief blooms in my chest.
“Evergreen trees and happiness?” I ask, recalling what he said to me that night after the party.
He lifts his head, red-rimmed eyes searching mine. “How do you know that?”
