I can’t let myself believe it’s over before I’ve even had the chance to talk to him. I tried to push him away before, and that just shoved me further into a deep, dark hole.
I’m really trying my best to claw my way out of it, even if my fingers are bleeding.
I pull into his driveway and take a deep, steadying breath, working through the breathing exercise my therapist taught me. I keep it going all the way up his front porch, and as I ring the doorbell.
Calm washes over me once the door opens and I see Cull standing on the other side.
“Hud? What are you doing here?”
“I was hoping we could talk?” I ask, pushing my hand into my pocket to hide the tremor.
His face is neutral, but I catch the way his Adam’s apple bobs.
“I should have called… if this is a bad time, I can come back or—”
That seems to snap him out of it. “Oh. No. Now’s good.” He steps aside and lets me in.
We stand in his foyer, awkward and silent, and I realize how much I hate this. Not just the quiet or the distance, but what it might mean.
I look at him, and for the first time in a long time, my head isn’t spinning or bogged down by dark thoughts.
It’s clear.
I love him.
I almost left him.
I say a quick prayer that I haven’t screwed us up to the point he’s ready to walk away. And if he is, I need to figure out how to fix it.
“How have you been?” The question is weak and superficial, but fuck… I’m nervous, too.
He scoffs, rolls his eyes, and then turns to walk up the stairs. “Just get to the point, Hudson. No need for small talk,” he throws over his shoulder.
I follow behind him, trying to find the right words.
When we get to his room, I step inside and sit in the desk chair while he sits on the edge of the bed, offering me only his side profile.
“Cull, I’m sorry. I don’t think I need to state the obvious, but… things have been difficult.”
“Yeah, no shit,” he laughs, shaking his head. It’s dark and hollow and so unlike Cull.
My stomach knots, and I start another breathing exercise. When I feel steady again, I get up and sit beside him on the bed. I grab his hand and pull it into my lap.
“I don’t think I told you thank you.”
He looks at me, surprise flickering in the green depths of his eyes.
“Thank you for never giving up on me. I’ve spent so much of my life worried about being a burden that I inadvertently made myself one.” He opens his mouth to argue, but I stop him with a small shake of my head. “I took for granted that you’d always fight for me. You’ve been my light through everything, but I let you carry that weight alone. I kept telling you that you shouldn’t have to, but then I made sure you did.”
I glance down at our hands and give him a gentle squeeze.
“This past week, I’ve realized I have to want to keep going formefirst. But when I can’t… I need to learn to lean on you without you having to carry my entire weight.”
He squeezes my hand back, but his posture stays rigid.
“I know you’re mad that I kept shutting you out,” I say quietly. “And I get it now. That just put more pressure on you. I can’t promise I’ll magically turn everything around, but I need you to know I’m learning, and I want to try.”
“Hud…” He swallows, gaze drifting to our hands. “I’d never hold it against you. I know you were doing the best you could, but honestly? I don’t know how to keep being the person you lean on. It’s like… all I’ve ever done is talkatyou. Tell you what I think you should feel or do because I thought it would help. But somewhere deep down, I wonder if I helped push you to that bridge.”
