Chapter 59

HUDSON

The car's engine hummed softly as Zayn and I sat in tense silence, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air between us. We were parked outside what would appear to be a mansion to anyone who didn't know what it truly was—rehab. The facility I settled on was in upstate New York. I didn't want to go to Arizona or California or out of the country. I wasn't even sure I wanted to go at all. I felt like I had been railroaded into this decision.

My stomach churned with nerves as I stared at the building, my mind racing with doubts and fears. When I got out of the hospital, I had stayed relatively sober. My brothers didn't think it was enough. They were on me all the time. I woke up and they were there. I went to bed, and they were there. I knew it was coming from a place of love, but it was a lot to handle. I was used to being alone.

Zayn looked just as nervous. I could tell he was struggling with this decision almost as much as I was. "Hudson, you know this is for the best, right?" he said softly, breaking the tense silence.

I nodded slowly, my gaze fixed on the imposing fa?ade of the rehab facility. It felt like a prison to me, a place where my freedom would be stripped away, and my demons laid bare for all to see. "I know," I murmured, unable to muster up any real conviction in my words.

"The hardest part is going in," he said. "Accepting the help that you know you need."

Every fiber of my being rebelled against the idea of walking through those doors, of admitting to myself and to the world that I needed help—that I couldn't do this on my own. But deep down, a part of me knew that Zayn was right. I couldn't keep living the way I had been, drowning my sorrows in alcohol and pushing away everyone who cared about me. As much as I resented the idea of rehab, I knew it was a chance for me to start over, to rebuild my life from the ground up.

"I don't need a pep talk," I muttered.

Zayn was relentless in his support. "Every day from here on out will be steps in the right direction," he continued, his voice firm. "And we've got your back, Hudson. No matter what. Go in there and just work on yourself. You don't have to worry about anything happening out here."

"You mean while I'm locked up?" I said with a bitterness I couldn't hide.

"You said you wanted to do this."

"Maybe I've changed my mind," I replied.

"It's not too late to turn back, Hudson. But you know deep down that this is the right choice. You can't keep living the way you have been. This is a chance for a fresh start, a chance to finally face your demons and come out stronger on the other side. I think we all know that this ends one of two ways. You're either going to literally drink yourself six feet under or you're going to learn the tools to keep you from ending up that way. You tried it your way. I was absolutely in your corner before all of this went down, but now, I feel like a dick. I encouraged you to get out of town like that was a solution. Honestly, man, if you would have died, the guilt would have killed me. Kameron probably would never speak to me again. It would destroy Dad. So, now, I have to tell you, get your ass in there and do this right."

I clenched my jaw, torn between the familiar comfort of my self-destructive habits and the daunting prospect of confronting my issues head on. "I know, I know. I'm a mess."

"Did you tell Diana you were doing this?" he asked.

I shook my head, a pang of guilt twisting in my gut. "No way," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't need to burden her with my shit anymore."

Zayn frowned. "I don't think she'd see it that way, Hudson," he said softly. "She cares about you. She wants to help."

But I couldn't bring myself to believe him. How could I burden Diana with my problems, my struggles, when I had already caused her so much pain? It was better this way, I told myself—a clean break, a fresh start without the weight of my addiction dragging her down.

"No," I said. "I haven't talked to her since I left. She's moved on. I'm moving on as well."

"I don't know if that's true," he said.

"It is," I sighed. "I'm going in."

"I'll go in with you," he said.

I gave him a dry look. "I'm not going to run."

"I didn't think you were. I was just offering to go in with you."

"I've got it from here," I said. "Thanks, Zayn, but this is on me. I've got to do this for myself. Isn't that what that intervention lady said?"

He grimaced. "Sorry about that," he muttered. "Kathy thought it was a good idea."

"It wasn't."

"Noted." He nodded.

I took my bag from the trunk of Zayn's car. I walked to the big iron gate connected to the black iron fence that surrounded the place. They could make it look pretty, but everyone knew it was jail with a nice lawn. I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over me—a sinking feeling that this was only the beginning of a long journey toward redemption.

Inside, I was greeted by a friendly receptionist who guided me through the check-in process with a warm smile and gentle words of encouragement.

"Are you ready?" she asked softly after we finished the paperwork.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

She showed me to my room. The moment she opened the door, I almost changed my mind. The space was small and sparsely furnished, devoid of any personal touches or comforts. It was a stark reminder of the isolation and emptiness that had come to define my life in recent months. Except at least then I had the benefit of my TV. This was going to be a whole lot of quiet. I didn't like the quiet.

The woman handed me a weekly calendar with my schedule on it, along with details of group activities and mealtimes. I forced myself to smile and nod politely, but inside, I felt like a small child being handed a list of chores.

"Thanks," I said.

"You're in the right place," she said. "Everyone here is in your corner and ready to support you on your journey to recovery. Believe it or not, a lot of the staff here have been exactly where you are, maybe worse. I'm one of the success cases. I was living on the street and had overdosed three times before I finally got it together. Trust me when I say it does get better. The next few weeks are going to be tough, but if you can get through them, you'll be happy you stuck it out."

"Thanks," I said with a forced smile.

Her words were kind and well meaning, but they did little to ease the knot of embarrassment and shame that had taken root in the pit of my stomach. She left the room, closing the door behind her. I sank onto the edge of the bed and let out a heavy sigh. The silence of the room pressed in around me, suffocating me. I couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped, of being confined to this lonely, sterile space with no way out. The tiny window with bars wasn't exactly making me feel like I could leave whenever I wanted.

I stretched out on the bed, and as usual, I thought about Diana. What was she doing? Probably at work teaching a bunch of kids and having a good time.

The memory of her haunted me, taunting me with what could have been if only I had been stronger, if only I had been able to conquer my demons before they consumed me whole. But now, as I lay alone in this cold, impersonal room, I couldn't help but feel a sense of regret wash over me—a bitter reminder of the love and happiness I had let slip through my fingers. I had been so close. I flew too close to the sun. I got a glimpse of a life I was never meant to have.

I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath, willing myself to push aside the thoughts of Diana and focus on the task at hand. I was here to get better, to reclaim my life and rebuild what I had lost. I might not ever have a chance with Diana again, but maybe I could find someone else that would make me happy. Although I had a feeling that was a lot easier said than done. No one was like Diana.

"Fuck," I hissed and got off the bed. I didn't want to think.

I began to unpack my bag and checked the schedule. Dinner was at six. I wasn't looking forward to hanging out with a bunch of addicts and alcoholics. Then I remembered that was exactly what I was. I straightened up and headed toward the cafeteria, my footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. The anticipation of facing a room full of strangers, all battling their own demons, made my heart race with anxiety. What would they think of me? Would I fit in with this motley crew of broken souls?

As I entered the cafeteria, the smell of bland food and disinfectant assaulted my senses. The room was filled with mismatched tables and chairs, occupied by residents who glanced up at me briefly before returning to their conversations and meals. It didn't really look like a cafeteria. More like a small dining room at a hotel. It was supposed to be homey, but it was going to take a lot more than some fake flowers and pretty pictures on the wall to erase the fact this was a facility. Period.

I grabbed a tray and made a few selections from the assortment of dishes being offered. I sat at a table by myself and ate a couple of bites, but I wasn't hungry. In fact, I was exhausted. I tossed the uneaten food in the trash and went back to my room to suffer in silence.

I turned off the light and crawled into the twin bed that felt better suited for a five-year-old than a grown man. I closed my eyes and tried to force myself to sleep. Maybe I could just sleep through this whole damn process. If I did my six weeks, the family would be happy, and I could get on with my life. I had learned my lesson.

As usual, Diana's image came to mind. I pictured her smile and her laugh. I could almost smell her. Taste her. My body relaxed and I slipped into a sweet dream.

Diana was standing in a field of wildflowers, her natural curls dancing in the gentle breeze. She reached out her hand to me, her eyes filled with understanding and forgiveness. I moved toward her, the distance between us closing with each step. I took her hand and felt her pull me into the sunlight. The warmth on my skin was comforting, familiar. Diana's touch was soft and reassuring, a balm to the ache in my heart. We stood together in the field, surrounded by the vibrant colors of the flowers swaying in the wind. I could feel her presence like a lifeline, grounding me in a way that no one else could.

As we walked through the field, the sun began to set in the distance, casting a warm glow over everything it touched. Diana turned to me with a smile that lit up her face, a smile that told me everything would be okay.

"I love you, Hudson."

Diana's words washed over me like a soothing wave, wrapping me in a blanket of comfort and love. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I gazed into her familiar, beautiful face.

"I love you too, Diana," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath carried away by the wind. The weight that had been pressing down on me for so long lifted. I felt as though I could finally breathe freely again.