“Dad—”
“Now.”
I stand and offer my hand to Hudson. “Hud, baby. I’m sorry.”
He gives me a tight smile and takes it, but lets go as soon as we’re clear of the booth.
My stomach drops.
Hud follows Dad toward the parking lot while I trail behind them, already bracing for the lecture I know is coming.
As soon as Dad stops at his car, he’s rounding on me. “Let’s get a few things straight. I don’t have any experience with a same-sex relationship, but what I do know is that you don't disrespect your partner like that. Man or woman.”
“Dad, I—”
“I’m not finished.”
I do the smart thing and shut my trap. Hud lays his hand on the small of my back, the gesture comforting.
“Hudson has been through enough without you losing your temper. You’re slipping, Cullen. Your anger is getting the best of you, and your mom and I are getting close to forcing you to get help.
He pinches his fingers together. “That close.”
My jaw tightens. I didn’t mean to snap at Hud. It just came out wrong. I know what he’s been through—I don’t need a speech about it.
“I already apologized,” I tell him. “Hud knows I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Wrong answer, son. Whether he knows you meant it or not doesn’t change what happened.”
Hud shifts slightly beside me. “Dr. Anderson, it’s okay—”
“No, it isn’t,” Dad cuts in, but his voice stays steady. “And I know Nora and Eric raised you better than this, too. Both of you know what respect looks like in a relationship.”
He places a hand on my shoulder, then briefly on Hud’s, his expression softening. “What you two have is solid. Don’t let moments like that become a pattern. They add up.”
“Yes, sir,” Hud and I say together.
“Okay. I need to get going, but Cullen? We will discuss therapy more at home.”
I give him a stiff nod.
Dad smiles then glances down at my legs. “Weren’t you wearing pajama pants when I dropped you off this morning?”
My cheeks heat and Hudson snickers.
Dad looks between us before the tips of his ears turn red. “Ah. Never mind.” He clears his throat and then gives me a hug. “I’ll see you later. Bye, Hudson.” Then he gets into his car and drives off.
“Wasn’t expecting relationship advice from your dad today,” Hud jokes. Then he walks the couple of spaces over to where he’s parked and gets in, cranking up the Bronco and waving for me to hurry.
Once I’m in and buckled, he pulls out of the parking lot towards his house.
The ride is quiet, classic rock filling the space between us. Hud’s thumb keeps tracing slow circles over my hand like nothing is wrong.
My teeth grind just thinking about Dad’s lecture. I knew snapping at Hud was wrong—it’s why I apologized immediately.
Dad thinks that talking to a therapist will fix everything, that I’ll magically sleep better and see the world with sunshine and flowers. That my anger will dissipate.
No offense to Dad and his credentials, but he didn’t watch the guy he loves more than anything try to kill himself.
