Page 85 of One Last Thing Before You Go

With a frustrated groan, I pull my phone from my back pocket, scrolling through my last text exchange with her. A simple “Made it home safe. Goodnight. xo.” she sent over last night. My thumbs hover over the screen, wracking my brain for what to text, or even whether I should be texting at all. I don’t want to come off as too needy, but… the fact remains that I do need her.

Now, especially. A terrifying thought, given that I’m leaving as soon as this thing with the bookstore is over.

Except that the idea of going back to my old life doesn’t seem as appealing as it used to, lately. And the idea of having to go through my father’s things is even less so. You could say I’m putting off the inevitable, avoiding what needs to be done. You can say whatever you want, and I won’t deny it. I don’t want to deal with that shit. I don’t want to learn more about the life my father chose to live without me.

To kill some time, I scroll through my emails, my tired eyes stopping briefly on one from my agent—a request for a freelance project that I’m sure will pay me peanuts, just like the last one did. With a sigh, I scroll past it, my mind not able to process the request, deciding to deal with it later.

With newfound determination, I search for Lottie’s contact and consider calling her—just to check in, just to make sure she’s okay and on her way. I could pretend like I have a question about the construction, pretend that there’s an issue. But would she see right through that?

This is ridiculous. I’m being ridiculous. I should be able to just call her. Why am I so nervous?

After a few more seconds of hesitation, I lock my phone and put it back in my pocket, only to pull it back out a few seconds later.

“Goddammit!” I say under my breath, glaring at the stupid smartphone, begging it to catch on fire. At least that way I’ll know I’m not getting her messages because my phone isn’t working, and not because she’s choosing to ignore me.

“Are you okay?” Jenn’s voice startles me, causing me to almost drop my phone and actually break it.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just… Drinking my coffee.”

“Uh-huh. You sure you’re okay?”

“Absolutely.” I nod, a little too eager.

“Okay. Well. Luke’s here to talk to us about the progress he’s been making. Do you want to join? I know Lottie isn’t coming since she texted me yesterday.”

Yeah, because she was supposed to be with me upstairs.

“Ah. Luke. Yeah, not a fan, really.”

She laughs and nods. “It’s cool. I’ll send you my notes. You can ask Lottie—I take great ones.”

I snort. “Have you spoken to her today?”

“No. But she takes a lot of sick days, so when she texted me last night, I just assumed it was—” Jenn realizes her mistake at my sharp inhale. Her eyes widen, her face the perfect picture of the phrase I made a mistake.

“So she gets sick often?” My voice is too high to play it cool, but I don’t care. Because I knew something was up. And I need to go find her. Help her.

“I—I don’t—” Jenn sighs once. “Please don’t put me in this position. It’s her business.”

I groan in frustration, but nod. “Fine. But I’m going to find her.”

The drive from the bookstore to Lottie’s house takes ten minutes. I make it in six, running every red light, heart beating so intensely against my chest, I’m almost scared it will fracture my ribs.

I barely remember to turn off my engine when I park the car, running to the garage, taking the stairs to her loft two at a time.

Please be okay. Please be okay. Please, god, please be okay.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

LOTTIE

There’s a loud banging coming from somewhere, interrupting the much-needed sleep my body is craving. Ignoring the disruption, I squeeze my eyes shut and burrow myself deeper into my pillow, willing the noise to go away. Only it gets louder.

“Lottie! Lottie, open the door!”

“What do you want?” I yell back, brain foggy, not moving an inch from my safe, comfy haven. The cramps aren’t as bad my last period, but the pain is bad enough that it’s spread all the way down to my legs, the stabbing feeling in my abdomen leaving me in a crippled state in bed, making it nearly impossible to move.

“I came to see whether you’re okay. Please let me in,” he says through the door.