Hudson is finally coming home today.
I’ve worn a path into the porch boards waiting for Mr. Daniels’ car to turn onto the street. Every few minutes, I check my phone even though Hudson already called me to say they were on their way.
Thirty minutes ago.
The wind blows through the chimes on the porch as I sit on the top step, knee bouncing.
You don’t get released after a suicide attempt without a million evaluations first. Yesterday, Hud spent hours with Dad and his new therapist answering questions about medication, therapy, safety plans, and his mental state—every stone that could be turned was laid out on the table.
Some of the questions seemed invasive. Like they were digging through every dark thought he’s ever had and put them under a microscope.
But they cleared him.
After a month in the hospital, it almost doesn’t feel real.
Hud asked me to stay with him while they did the evaluation. I tried to act normal about it, but secretly, it meant everything that he wanted me there. That he still reached for me even after all of this.
A car turns onto the street, and my heart leaps before I realize it’s the wrong one. I scrub a hand down my face.
Every part of me is desperate to have him home, but I'm terrified of getting my hopes up too high.
Because even with the green light to leave the hospital, he’s still all over the place mentally. Dad says Hud’s mood swings are to be expected and that healing won't be linear. One minute he’s quiet and numb, the next he’s irritated and overwhelmed. But he’s not considered a danger to himself anymore, and that’s the part I keep clinging to.
At least physically, he's better.
Most of the cuts and bruises from the fall are gone now, and his brain and lung scans came back clear. A miracle, honestly. The sling on his left arm is the only thing left that immediately tells people something happened to him.
I glance down the street again, willing their car to turn the corner.
The bag in my hand rattles as my body shakes with anticipation. While he’s been in the hospital, Hudson hasn’t been able to eat anything of substance. Only in the last few days has he been able to tolerate solid food. So, I made him a welcome home bag full of his favorite treats. He probably can’t stomach them yet, but they’ll be there when he can.
The sound of a car engine in the distance spikes my excitement, but it dies a quick death when I realize it’s Ella pulling up to the curb.
Great.She’s the last person I want to see.
She strides up, her own gift bag tucked under her arm. “I figured you’d be on collection duty.” She sits next to me on the steps, situating the sparkly blue bag between her feet.
I scoff. “He’s not a bag of garbage waiting on the sidewalk.”
She tosses her sleek black hair over her shoulder and rolls her eyes. “Geez, you need to relax. You know I didn’t mean anything by it.”
I’m sure she didn’t, but just being near her is exhausting.
When I don’t respond, she sighs. “I was just trying to make small talk, no need to be an ass.”
My breath is heavy when I exhale. “Sorry. Hud asked me to just meet him here.”
Like his name summons him, Mr. Daniels pulls into the driveway. I’m off the steps, yanking open the back door to help Hud out before the car is even at a full stop. I start to pull him into a hug, but the scowl on his face stops me cold.
His expression doesn’t match how happy he sounded on the phone earlier, but I smile anyway.
“Welcome home, baby,” I say, leaning in to kiss his cheek.
“You mean welcome back to the bullshit?”
He steps around me and walks right past Ella, straight up to the front door.
I ball my fist and turn to find Hadley standing next to me, frowning.
