“If I promise to come home in a couple of hours and try to sleep, will you let me go?” Compromise is the only way I’m getting out that door.
Mom huffs and shares a look with Dad. “I don’t want you driving like this. If Dad is willing to take you, then, yes.” I grab my keys, but Mom tugs at my arm. “But, you will come home in two hours, and youwillgo to bed. Understood?” She gives me the look that’s made grown men shrink.
Just ask Detective Whitfield.
The urge to roll my eyes is strong. The demand feels like something she’d say to ten-year-old me, but instead, I give her another hug. “I promise. Thank you.”
She cups my cheek, then walks to the kitchen.
Dad squeezes my shoulder and leads me to my truck, opening the passenger door and gesturing for me to get in. I sag against the closed door, my head meeting the cool glass of the window.
The ride is comfortable, Dad quietly humming along to the song on the radio. I watch as the trees whiz by, my thoughts rushing along with them.
We pull into the parking lot, Dad snagging a physician’s-only spot. He idles the truck, his face contemplative.
“Just say what you want to say, Dad.”
He sighs and turns the truck off, turning to face me in his seat. “Mom and I are worried about you.”
“I agreed to come home and try to slee—”
“That’s not what I mean.” His voice is softer than I’ve heard in years, the concern evident. “You’re running yourself into the ground being at the hospital all hours of the day, and you’re not dealing with what you saw. It was traumatic, and you can’t keep shoving it down, son.”
My throat is tight, a twinge of pain lingering in my ribs. “Shoving it down is what’s carrying me to the next day,” I admit, voice strained. “I can’t face it right now, Dad. I can’t fall apart.”
He cuffs the back of my neck, his eyes warm. “I know you want to be strong for Hudson, but if you bury all this, it’s going to eat you alive. And then you won’t know who you are anymore.”
Then he gets out of the truck, leaving me sitting there with everything I’m trying not to think about.
I round the corner into the ICU wing and peer into the waiting room. The usual people are there—Hud’s parents and Hadley. Mr. Daniels is pacing the length of the room while talking on his phone. Mrs. Nora watches him closely, wringing her hands in her lap.
Slipping inside, I drop into the seat next to Hadley. I’m still pissed at her for all the shit she said to Hudson, but I’m trying to keep the peace.
“Everything alright?” I ask, nodding towards Mr. Daniels.
She’s scrolling through some guy’s social media, her head propped on her fist. “I think he’s on the phone with the police.”
My chest tightens, my knee bouncing frantically.
“Okay, thank you.” Mr. Daniels ends the call and pockets his phone. He lets out a heavy sigh and sits down next to his wife.
“What did they have to say? Did they find something?” Mrs. Daniels asks, taking his hand in hers. “The investigation has been going on for almost a month.”
“It’s procedure,” he says tightly. “But, yes. They think so.” He leans his head back against the wall and gazes up at the ceiling, the dark circles under his eyes rivaling mine. “It’s only gone on this long because of his stalker. They have to rule out foul play.”
My hands ball into fists. Hud’s intentions were clear. He just wanted the noise in his head to stop.
He was tired of fighting it.
But the police still want to make sure nothing else was going on, and honestly, we’re grateful for that.
Mr. Daniels continues. “They found some muddy footprints on the opposite side of the bridge that led into the woods and to an old Airstream that looked lived in. They knocked, but no one answered. They’re going to ask the judge for a search warrant.”
The air whooshes from my lungs. We never told the police about seeing the guy at the end of the bridge that day, and now I’m kicking myself for it.
“Finally, some good news,” Mrs. Nora remarks, a small smile tugging at her mouth. She looks over at me, her eyes kind. “I thought you were going home to get some rest?”
Is this a universal Mom thing? To nag about the lack of sleep I’m getting?
