And then during the night, after the infomercial about waterproof tape, I was able to mellow out enough to absorb it. And at some point as the sun came up, I realized he was right. Mostly.
I stop walking. There’s an itch at the back of my neck, an urgency rushing through my body.
Hadley deserves someone who will fight for her. Cross’s words creep through my mind.
I’ve fought for a lot of things in my life, for Hadley’s honor even, but I’ve never fought for her.
I jog down the hallway. My keys are on the table by the door, and I scoop them up. My hands shake, the keys jingling in my palm, as I search for my phone.
She’s fought for me her entire life, and I’ve let her go every damn time.
Except this one.
A zip of fear like I’ve never felt before swamps me, but it doesn’t stop me. It motivates me to hurry. To hustle. To get to her and fix this bullshit before it’s too late.
If anyone is going to love Hadley, it might as well be me. I’d die for that girl with no questions asked. I’d rob a bank to make her dreams come true. I’d prune the rose bushes and buy all the fizzy bath shit if it made her smile only for a second.
Hadley loves me. Why, I don’t know. How, I’m not sure. But she does. She’d have to if she’s still coming around. And even though it terrifies me to think I’ll fuck something up with her, I’m already doing that by not just loving her back.
My phone isn’t on the couch.
“Damn it,” I hiss. Turning around, I jog to my room and swipe the phone from where I tossed it on the bed. It springs to life.
I stop.
I open Hadley’s text.
I read the words in her voice—not the one she used last night at Crave, but the one she used when she told me she was leaving. The one she used right before I told her to drive carefully.
“No …” My head goes side to side as I take in her words, skimming over them on the first read and then starting over again as a form of torture. “Had. No.”
She can’t mean this. Not now.
Tears wet my eyes as I toss my phone back on the bed. It lands on the spot where she slept, the spot where I laid last night when I tried to sleep. The spot where I held her when she was sleeping and promised her I’d always be here for her.
A lump sits in my throat. My chest burns, the pain encompassing every part of me. I’ve never felt something this severe, something that literally feels like I’m going to die.
Thirty-Four
Machlan
“What the fuck?”
I sit up in my bed.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Something is pounding somewhere, and I’m not sure if it’s just in my head or if I’m really hearing it.
My head is foggy as I try to sort through fact and fiction.
The light coming through the bedroom windows touches the door to the closet, and that only happens when it’s after four o’clock this time of year. I know that because I leave for the bar around four. As I’m walking out of my closet after I change into my work clothes, the sun is usually hitting me in the face.
“What time is it?” I ask out loud.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
I stand, my legs heavy, and I glance at the clock. It’s 4:16 in the afternoon.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
My phone is lying on the bed, and I grab it. It’s dead.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
Running a hand through my hair, trying to figure out how in the hell I’m asleep in the middle of the fucking afternoon, I head down the hallway.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Machlan! Open this goddamn door!” Peck’s voice is almost shrill. “Fucking hell, Mach! Open up!”
“For fuck’s sake.” I pull the door open. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
His face is pale. “Mach. It’s Nana.”
“It’s Nana, what?”
“Sienna went by to take her some muffins and found her in her chair.” His voice breaks. “Come on. They just took her by ambulance to the hospital.”
* * *
I look at the clock. “You’d think they’d have some information by now.”
My entire body hurts. The chairs in the waiting room don’t help, but the drain of energy is what kills me. I’ve paced. I’ve prayed. I’ve berated us all for not taking better care of her.
Lance’s head hangs. “What are we gonna do if something happens to her?”
“Don’t talk like that,” Peck says. “She’ll be fine.” He works his bottom lip between his teeth, an empty coffee cup in his hands. “She has to be.”
“Did you call your brother?” Walker looks at Peck. “I know there’s nothing he can do, but someone needs to tell him.”
Peck nods. “Yeah. I called Vincent on my way to Machlan’s. I told him I’d keep him posted.” He dangles the cup between his legs. “He was supposed to come home last month. He was gonna bring Sawyer to see Nana and surprise everyone, but Sawyer got sick and then Vincent got busy at work, and he just didn’t make it happen.”