Chapter 65

HUDSON

Icouldn't believe I was doing this. I stepped out of the elevator and quickly spotted the therapist's office I was supposed to be going to. I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settle over me. I had never been to a counselor in my life until rehab. I never thought of myself as the kind of guy that needed counseling.

But the events of the last couple of months had shattered that illusion. As I entered the office, the receptionist greeted me with a warm smile. I quickly checked in and sat down. It wasn't long before I was called into the office.

The therapist, a kind-faced man named Dr. Peters, greeted me with a warm smile as I took my seat opposite him. "It's good to see you, Hudson," he said, his voice gentle.

I returned the smile, though it felt forced. "Thanks, Dr. Peters. It's good to see you again."

"So, how have you been? How are you feeling?"

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. "Honestly? I'm scared," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm scared of what comes next. I'm scared of falling back into old habits, of losing everything I've worked so hard to regain."

Dr. Peters listened patiently. "It's natural to feel scared, especially after what you've been through," he said. "But you've made incredible progress, Hudson. You've shown immense strength and resilience. I have no doubt that you have the tools to face whatever challenges come your way."

"It's weird to be back in my apartment," I said.

"Memories?"

"Yes." I nodded.

"Not good?"

I shook my head. "It's not that they're bad, but it felt weird to be sitting there without a drink in my hand."

Dr. Peters nodded in understanding, his eyes filled with empathy. "It's completely normal to feel that way, Hudson. Your environment can trigger memories and emotions, especially ones tied to past behaviors or coping mechanisms. But remember, you're not the same person you were before. You have the power to make new, healthier choices now."

"Maybe but it's a constant battle," I said.

"I want you to practice self-compassion during these moments. Acknowledge your feelings without judgment and remind yourself of how far you've come. And if you ever feel overwhelmed, remember that it's okay to ask for help. You don't have to face this alone. Do you remember some of the things you worked on? What to do when you get a craving?"

"I do," I replied. "I remember the techniques we discussed to help me cope with cravings. One of the strategies that really helped was distraction. Whenever I felt a craving coming on, I would distract myself by going for a walk or going swimming."

Dr. Peters nodded in approval. "That's great, Hudson. Distraction can be a powerful tool in managing cravings. Remember, cravings are temporary, and they will pass. By engaging in activities that make you happy and make you feel better, you're reinforcing healthier habits and breaking the cycle of addiction."

"I'll keep trying," I said.

"That's all you can do," he said. "Have you thought about what you do want? Part of the plan is to give yourself goals. What do you want?"

"I'm scared of wanting something good for myself," I confessed. "I tried to come up with three things like you asked, but I don't want to. I don't want to put it on paper."

Dr. Peters arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "I mean I'm scared of wanting things that I don't think I deserve. Like happiness. And love. I don't see how I can be loved when I don't know how to love."

For so long, I had convinced myself that I wasn't worthy of happiness, that I didn't deserve love. But now, faced with the possibility of wanting those things for myself, I didn't know how to handle it.

Dr. Peters leaned forward. "Why do you feel that way, Hudson? Why do you think you don't deserve happiness or love?"

I hesitated, unsure of how to put my feelings into words. I had to unpack the tangled mess of emotions that had been swirling inside me for so long.

"I guess it goes back to my childhood," I began. "Growing up in a big family, I always felt like I was just another face in the crowd. I wasn't the smart one or the successful one or the responsible one. I was just Hudson. The screw-up. The disappointment. It's hard to stand out. I couldn't find my thing."

Dr. Peters listened, nodding along. "It sounds like you felt overlooked, invisible even. Is that why you turned to alcohol? To numb the pain?"

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Yeah. I guess so. Drinking made me feel something. Anything. It helped me forget about all the things I didn't like about myself, at least for a little while. When I drank, I could do stupid shit and people laughed. No one expected anything from me. It was just easier to be the lovable, goofy screw-up."

"But now you're facing those feelings head on, without the help of alcohol. That takes incredible courage, Hudson. It's not easy to confront the parts of ourselves that we'd rather keep hidden."

I swallowed hard, feeling a surge of emotion. "I don't want to go back to who I was before," I admitted. "I want to be better. I want to be someone that I can be proud of."

"And you will be, Hudson. You already are. You've taken the first steps toward healing, toward becoming the person you want to be. Now that you know what the problem was, you can work on it."

We talked for another forty minutes before the session was over. I left the therapist's office feeling a sense of clarity washing over me. I still had a long road ahead of me, but for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was heading in the right direction. It was all about making changes.

That included focusing on my physical body. I was ready to get back into the gym. It was something I used to love but it wasn't fun to work out when I was hungover. I walked into the gym. The familiar scent of sweat and rubber greeted me, mingling with the sound of clanging weights and the low hum of conversation. Zayn and Kameron were already there, waiting for me by the dumbbell rack.

"Hey, man, good to see you," Zayn greeted me with a grin, clapping me on the back.

"Hey, Hudson, ready to get your ass kicked?" Kameron added with a smirk.

It was good to be back with my brothers, doing something healthy and productive for a change. "Yeah, yeah, let's do this," I replied, grabbing a pair of dumbbells and getting into position for our first set.

"You might want to start with the threes," Zayn teased.

"How funny is it I haven't worked out in forever and I could still outdo you any day of the week?" I retorted.

Normally, we would have met up at a bar or a club. We'd have a couple of drinks and then go home. But not anymore. I was determined to stay sober, to stay true to the promise I had made to myself to live a better life.

As I lifted the weights, I felt the burn in my muscles and the rush of endorphins that came with exercising. It was a different kind of high, one that left me feeling strong and empowered. With each repetition, I pushed myself a little bit harder, focusing on the rhythm of my breath and the strain in my muscles. I was going to be sore tomorrow, but I didn't care.

"What are you doing tonight?" Zayn asked.

"If you're asking if I'm hanging out with Diana, I'm not," I replied. "But thanks for telling on me."

"Hey, she deserved to know," he said.

"Maybe." I shrugged. "You could have given me a heads-up."

He grinned. "She asked how you were doing. I told her you were getting sprung, and she offered to pick you up."

"It was good," I said. "It gave me the closure I needed. I got to face Diana one last time and say goodbye properly."

Zayn smirked at my comment. "Closure my ass," he said, his tone teasing. "That's not over."

"Maybe, maybe not," I said.

"Is she staying at your place?" Kameron asked.

"No. She dropped me off and caught a flight to Spain."

They both laughed.

"I'm serious," I said. "She's doing a Europe tour thing."

I finished my last set and wiped the sweat off my forehead with a towel. The adrenaline was still coursing through my veins. I felt alive in a way I hadn't in a long time.

After our workout, we headed to the smoothie bar for some post-workout fuel. As we sipped our drinks and joked around, I couldn't help but feel a sense of optimism wash over me. Maybe, just maybe, things were finally starting to look up for me.

"Are you still in touch with Diana?" Kameron asked.

"No. I told her she could call me if she needed me. But I think she needs this time to figure it out."

"Is it over?" Zayn asked.

"I don't know." I shrugged. "I think there is still something there but I'm not sure if it will go anywhere. That ship may have sailed."

"I don't think so," Zayn said. "That woman loves you. That doesn't just go away. She understood what happened. She's a good woman."

"Maybe." I shrugged.

Zayn got up to use the restroom, leaving me and Kameron alone.

"Hey, Kameron, I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for not giving up on me, for pushing me when I needed it most. I know I pushed back pretty hard. I wasn't ready to hear it. You could see the road I was on, but I couldn't. Thank you for not giving up on me."

Kameron looked at me. "No need to thank me," he replied, shrugging it off. "I was just doing what any good brother would do. You were in the thick of it. You're not the first guy that struggled with this shit."

I shook my head. "No, seriously. If it wasn't for you, I don't think I would have ever gone to rehab. And rehab was the best thing I could have done for myself. I only wish I had done it sooner. I hated it, but it was necessary."

Kameron nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of his smoothie. "Maybe if you had done it sooner, it wouldn't have been such a success," he mused. "Sometimes, things happen when they're supposed to happen. Maybe you needed to meet the woman of your dreams in order to really take care of yourself. You weren't going to be ready until you hit bottom."

He was right. Meeting Diana had been a catalyst for change in my life, a wake-up call that I couldn't ignore. Even though our time together had been brief, it had left a lasting impact on me, one that had ultimately led me to rehab and to the path of recovery.

Zayn returned and sat down. "What's up?" he asked. "You two look way too serious."

"Thank you, Zayn," I said. "For everything. For telling Diana about rehab, for being there for me when I needed it most."

Zayn smiled. "Anytime, bro. You know I've got your back. We're always going to be here to kick your ass into shape."

We all shared a laugh. These two had been my rock throughout some of the darkest times in my life. I knew I could always count on them.

"Thanks, guys. And I'm probably going to regret saying this, but I'm going to count on you to actually do that. I'm going to need you guys to keep me in check."

"Why don't you come and stay with us?" Kameron suggested. "You probably shouldn't be alone."

"I don't need a babysitter," I told him. "I have to figure this out on my own. It has to happen eventually. But thank you for the offer. I promise to call if I need anything, okay?"

Kameron and Zayn exchanged a knowing look before nodding in agreement. They understood my need for independence, but also recognized the importance of having a support system in place.

"Just call," Zayn said.

"Thanks."