The air shifts around us as Hudson absorbs the words he gave at graduation just a few short weeks ago. He lets go of my hand and reaches for the whiteboard. He scrawls a rough few words, turning the board so I can see.
“Needed it to stop.”
I already knew that. It was in his letter.
He writes again, words that shatter me.
“Thoughts still here.”
I cup his cheeks, careful not to disturb his breathing tube. My eyes bore into his. “That’s your brain. What does your heart say?”
His hands shake, crying while he writes.
“Stay. Love you.”
My own tears trail down my face, dripping off my chin onto his chest. “Your heart will never lead you astray, Hud. Never.” I nestle into his neck, his weak arm coming around my back.
This isn’t his magic cure, I know that. But tonight feels like the first step forward.
And I’m more than happy to walk with him.
Chapter six
Hudson
Ijolt awake, choking on air that tastes like river water.
That’s how it’s been lately—waking from dreams of the river swallowing me whole. Sometimes I wake up angry that it wasn’t real. Other times, I wake up relieved.
The guilt and pain still cling to me like a curse.
My eyes move around the new room they put me in. It’s bigger, with fewer machines, but the bleach smell still stings the air. I’m finally out of the ICU, feeling a bit better physically, but my mind is still a jumbled mess.
A low snore pulls me from my thoughts, drawing my eye to Cullen dozing in the chair beside the bed. He’s barely left my side unless the doctors ask him to step out.
I both love and resent it.
I hate that he has to be here at all. That I couldn’t even die right, and now everyone is orbiting around me like I’m cracked glass.
But I love Cullen’s nearness, too. He’s the only one I’ve really let myself communicate with. Cull has always meant safety, and I think that’s what I need most right now.
Not that my parents aren’t safe for me, but Cull sees me. He always has. Even when I couldn’t see it.
What he said a couple of days ago, about listening to my heart, keeps looping in my mind until I can’t tell if I’m clawing towards the light or sinking back under.
How do I listen to my heart when my brain is so fucking loud?
I’m just really confused, wanting nothing more than for my mind to shut off.
Cull stirs beside me, like he can hear me thinking about him. He lets out a near-silent yawn and stretches his arms over his head.
When he sees me watching, he grins wide. “Hey, baby. How long have you been awake?”
I shrug, forcing the words out. “Couple minutes.” My throat feels like I’ve swallowed knives heated over coals. They pulled the vent out last night, thank God, but talking sucks.
I’d rather go back to blinking.
Cull leans down and kisses my forehead. “How are you feeling?”
