Chapter 54

DIANA

Iwoke up to an unfamiliar silence. The space beside me was cold. I stretched out my arm to touch Hudson but found nothing. The usual warmth of his body was missing. A sense of unease crept over me.

"Hudson?" I called out softly, rubbing my eyes and sitting up in bed.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the streaks of sunlight seeping in through the blinds.

I got out of bed and pulled on my sleeping shirt. I inhaled, expecting to smell coffee. There was no smell of coffee or bacon or even burnt toast. I knew he wasn't in the house. I could feel his absence.

Maybe he went out to grab breakfast for us.

I walked into the kitchen and looked around. Because I was still trying to convince myself he just stepped out, I looked out the window to see if his car was gone.

It was. The front door was locked. He was gone. Something felt off. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I had a feeling of dread I couldn't shake. I walked back into my bedroom to get my phone. My hands were trembling as I dialed his number, but it went straight to voicemail. I quickly typed out a text, telling him to call me back.

And then I saw it—a small piece of paper lying on the bedside table. I stared at it like one would stare at a coiled rattlesnake.

"No," I whispered.

I didn't have to pick it up to know what it was going to say.

I stared down at Hudson's handwriting, debating if I would reach for it. If I didn't read it, was it actually real? My hands shook as I reached for it, my heart pounding in my chest as I unfolded the paper, the words blurring together as tears welled up in my eyes.

"I'm sorry," the note began, the words stark and devoid of emotion. "I can't be the man you want or deserve. I never should have stayed in Cold Springs or let you catch feelings for me."

Catch feelings? The words echoed in my mind, a bitter reminder of the love and affection I had poured into our relationship, only to have it thrown back in my face with callous indifference. Catching feelings? He made it sound like a virus. A nasty, skin lesion, plague type of virus.

How could he do this to me? How could he be so weak, so cowardly as to run away without so much as a goodbye?

My anger flared, hot and fierce, as I read and reread the note, each word a dagger to my heart.

Coward.

Hudson was a weak and spineless man who couldn't even face the consequences of his actions. Tears streamed down my cheeks. A sense of betrayal washed over me, threatening to drown me in a sea of sorrow and despair. My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest, stomped, twisted, and then sliced.

"Asshole!"

I crumpled up the note and threw it in the garbage. I wanted to scream, to lash out at the injustice of it all—to demand answers that I knew would never come. I thought about going back to the kitchen and taking every plate, bowl and glass from the cupboard and smashing them on the floor. I wanted to take a hammer to the walls and counter. I just wanted to smash the shit out of something. But instead, I collapsed onto the bed, burying my face in my hands as the weight of Hudson's abandonment settled over me like a suffocating blanket.

How could he do this to me? How could he walk away from me without having the decency to say goodbye? It was unfathomable. I didn't think I would ever understand his motives. Did he intentionally lead me on? Was it because I told him I loved him?

After crying for a good thirty minutes, I decided to get over it. Well, not over it, but I couldn't lie in bed and cry all day.

I forced myself to get up and take a shower. A shower made everything more manageable. The steaming water cascaded over me. Unfortunately, it was a futile attempt to wash away the pain and confusion that gripped my heart like a vise. I stood beneath the relentless stream, my mind swirling with thoughts and emotions that threatened to consume me whole.

"It's fine," I told myself, forcing the words through clenched teeth as I tried to convince myself that I didn't need him—that I could go on without him. But deep down, I knew the truth. I needed him more than ever. His sudden disappearance had left a gaping hole in my heart. A fresh wave of pain rolled over me. It was so powerful and painful, it took me to my knees. I sat on my ass, my back pressed against the wall as I hugged my knees to my chest. The water mingled with my tears as I sobbed uncontrollably. The sound of my own anguish echoed off the tiled walls of the shower. How could he do this to me? How could he leave without so much as a goodbye, without a single word of explanation? The questions swirled in my mind, unanswered and unanswerable. My body was racked with sobs.

Eventually, the water turned cold, the shock of its icy touch jolting me back to reality. With trembling hands, I shut off the faucet and wrapped myself in a towel.

I wasn't going to let him get away from me. I was going to make him face me. I dressed, not really caring what I put on. Before I stormed to his house, I forced myself to try and reach him once again. Desperation clawed at my chest as I sent him a text, pleading with him to come back or at least pick up his phone. I deserved a conversation, I told him—a chance to understand why he had left me in the dark, why he had abandoned me without a second thought.

But there was no response, no sign that he had even read my message. Anger and frustration bubbled up inside me, threatening to boil over as I realized that he was ignoring me. The fact he didn't care enough to even acknowledge my pain was hard to swallow. How could he be so callous, so heartless as to leave me hanging like this?

I didn't want to reduce myself to begging. That was just embarrassing. I needed to have some dignity. It was time to call in the big guns. I needed someone to keep me from humiliating myself.

I called Rachel, who sounded like she was still asleep. "Hey," I said, trying to sound casual.

"What's wrong?" she asked immediately.

"I—" I couldn't stop the sob from escaping my throat.

"I'll be right there," she said and ended the call.

The sound of the doorbell echoed through the house, jolting me out of my numb stupor as I hurried to answer it. A small part of me hoped it would be Hudson. Maybe he had come to his senses and wanted to talk.

But it wasn't him. It was Rachel. Her eyes widened with concern as she took in my tear-streaked face and red-rimmed eyes.

"Diana, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice filled with worry as she pulled me in for a tight hug. "I knew something was off. Are you okay?"

I shook my head, unable to find the words to articulate what happened. She led me into the living room. We both sat down on the couch with her arm around my shoulders. "What's happening?" she asked. "Are your parents okay?"

I nodded. "Yes." I dragged in a shaky breath. "Hudson."

"Hudson?" She looked confused. "What about him?"

"He's gone," I managed to get out between sobs. "He left me."

Rachel's shock was replaced by a sudden, fierce anger. "What do you mean he left you? How could he? He was just here yesterday!"

"I know," I whispered, my voice cracking from the strain. "I woke up this morning and he was gone. No goodbye. He left a note. He won't answer my calls or texts."

"That jerk!" Rachel spat out, her eyes flashing dangerously. "I swear to God, Diana, if he thinks he can treat you like this and get away with it…"

"I think he already did," I said.

"I can't believe he would do that to you," she breathed, her voice tinged with disbelief. "I thought he was in love with you. Last night you guys looked so cute together. I could feel the love."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. "Don't," I whispered. "Don't say that. It hurts. I hate that everyone saw it, plain as day and it wasn't real. Was it all a joke to him?"

"I don't think so," she said. "I don't think anyone is that good of an actor."

"I don't understand," I groaned. "Or maybe I do."

"What do you mean?"

"I told him I loved him last night," I said. "I told him I saw us spending our lives together. And that he would make a good father."

She grimaced. "Diana, you didn't say anything wrong," she insisted, gripping my hand tightly. "Those are not just words. They are feelings. Feelings you felt and shared because you thought he was the one to hear them."

"I guess I was wrong," I replied bitterly, choking back a sob. "He obviously didn't want to hear it."

"No," Rachel said firmly. "You're making his cowardice about you. It's not about what you said or did. It's about him, being a coward."

"I'm so stupid," I said, letting the tears flow freely now.

"Diana, stop it!" Rachel said, shaking me slightly. "You're not stupid. You fell in love. There's nothing stupid about that."

"Then why does it feel so foolish?" I cried, heartache turning into raw anger. "Why did I let myself believe in him? Why did I let him into my heart, knowing there was a chance he could shatter it?"

"Because that's what love is, Diana," Rachel said softly, her anger subsiding as she held me tighter. "It's a leap of faith. It's risky and messy and sometimes it hurts like hell. But it's also beautiful and intoxicating."

"But it shouldn't be this painful," I whispered. "I feel so stupid because he told me over and over he didn't want a relationship. He told me he wasn't good enough for me. When I told him I loved him, he didn't say it back. He basically told me that my vision for the future was never going to happen. But I refused to listen."

"What can I do?" Rachel asked.

I sniffled, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill over. "You're already doing it by being here," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Have you eaten?" she asked.

"No," I sighed. "I can't eat."

"Yes, you can," she said. She pulled out her phone, using the only food delivery app that worked out here. "Breakfast is on the way."

"Thank you, Rachel," I whispered.

"Hey, that's what friends are for." She offered a small smile, tucking a loose strand of my messy hair back behind my ear. "We've been through thick and thin, Diana. This is just another bump in the road. You've nursed me through plenty of heartbreaks. It's my turn."

She was right. We had been through a lot over the years. But this felt different. This felt more profound, deeper cut in my heart.

"Thanks," I murmured. I grabbed one of the throw pillows and pulled it against me. I was still tempted to go to his house and confront him, but I had a feeling it would be pointless.