I called Mrs. Eliza next, my phone wedged between my ear and shoulder as I got dressed.
Cull running off to play Captain Save the Day was dumb and dangerous, but I’m in no position to lecture anyone on making bad decisions.
Obviously.
I don’t think Cull is dealing with what I did, and lately, that’s becoming a problem.
He barely sleeps anymore, and every time someone asks if he’s okay, he brushes them off.
Dr. Anderson told me at dinner last night that he’s been trying to urge Cullen to go to therapy, but they want him to make that decision on his own. He hoped that I could talk to Cull and maybe make him change his mind.
I was going to do that today, but I guess that plan’s gone to Hell.
After two hours of waiting, Cullen and Mrs. Eliza emerge through the swinging doors that lead to the emergency department.
Cull is staring down at his feet as he walks, and Mrs. Eliza looks frustrated. I stand and meet them halfway.
“Hudson, sweetheart, do you mind driving Cullen to get his truck? It was impounded after someone in the neighborhood called a tow truck.” Mrs. Eliza looks like she’s ready to spit nails. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her so mad before. Cull just stands there, head down, hands in his pockets.
“No, I don’t mind.”
Mrs. Eliza grasps Cullen’s chin, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “You will come straight home, do you hear me? We have a lot to discuss.”
He nods his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m glad you’re okay, but I have to get back to work. I already had to cancel two house showings.”
She gives me a stiff smile, then heads out into the parking lot, Cullen and I trailing behind her. He is back to staring at his shoes, his posture dejected but tense all the same.
I open the passenger door and he climbs in without a word, buckling his seatbelt before immediately fidgeting with his fingers.
Cull has never had a panic attack that I know of.
Maybe he’s embarrassed.
I crank my Bronco and navigate out of the hospital parking lot towards the only impound in town. “Are you okay?” I ask, feeling a little out of place being on the other side of this type of situation.
He shrugs, not uttering a word.
“If anyone understands what it’s like to have a panic attack, it’s me.”
Cull looks out the window, anxious energy radiating off of him. He’s usually an open book, his body language exact and sure. Now I can’t pinpoint what is going on with him.
I pull into the impound lot a few quiet moments later and shut off the car. I turn in my seat and reach over, prying his hands apart and linking my fingers with his. “Talk to me, babe. What happened today? Why were you at Mason’s?”
“You being safe means everything to me.” He says it so softly I barely hear him. “He was there.”
My breathing stops for a moment, my pulse picking up pace. I force myself to inhale deeply, then exhale it on a count of four.
“You saw him?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.
“I talked to him.”
The blood in my veins runs cold, fear I haven’t felt in weeks rearing its ugly head.
Don’t let this set you back, Hud. Believe in your strength.
I let the words loop in my mind, something Maria has told me many times.
