Page 15 of The Last Thing
A loud bang on my door makes me jump.
“Hallie, baby girl, you in there?” Hardy calls.
Unsurprising.I haven’t returned anyone’s calls or texts in days. Since I went to the doctor and had the suspicion I didn’t want to admit to confirmed. Then I spent the next two days lying on my couch—or praying to the porcelain god—staring at the ultrasound picture to make sure I didn’t dream it all up.
Even from a distance, Frannie and Kend love to meddle.
I wish they were here.
“We need to know you’re alive,” Brian calls.
“Coming,” I grumble at the door, then shove myself off the couch, dropping the bunny on the coffee table.
I catch my reflection in the small mirror near the door. I look like straight up hell, but at least that’ll sell why I haven’t been answering. Sort of.
After unlocking the door, I pull it open to find two football players standing there. I’m five-six, but they still seem giant to me. Hardy mostly because he’s just over six feet and muscular as fuck. Brian because he’s a literal giant.
I gesture for them to come in, and they follow me, neither saying a word.
Surprising.Hardy usually has something to say.
The second my butt hits the couch again Hardy’s intense stare is on me.
“What’s going on?”
I give a little shrug. “Just having a rough few days. Emotionally speaking.”
His brow furrows, and he drops onto the coffee table in front of me. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Not yet. I’m okay. Just wallowing… I guess.”
I glance up at Brian, who is staring at me intently, concerned, and clearly not convinced by a word coming out of my mouth.
“Frannie and Kennedy are both worried. You haven’t answered any calls from them, and when they called and asked if you’d responded to us, we were out the door before they could tell us to come check on you. If you’re not ready to talk yet… well, I’m still determined to get it out of you, but we need to know you’re okay,” Hardy says.
I stare at him for a beat. “I’d say I’m the definition of that word.” I rub a hand over my face right as my stomach growls.
“When was the last time you ate?” Brian asks.
“Breakfast.”
Brian folds his arms over his chest. “Hal, it’s almost three in the afternoon.”
“Tell us what you want, and we’ll go get it,” Hardy says.
I close my eyes and think about what doesn’t make me want to barf.
“Can you get me a vanilla milkshake and some fries from that diner a couple of blocks over?”
“Coming up.” Hardy stands and smacks Brian on the shoulder. “Coming?”
“Actually… would one of you stay?”
I glance at Brian, and he instantly knows I mean him.
He sits down on the couch next to me. “I will.”
“Thanks,” I murmur.
