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“On the floor against the wall. She must’ve dropped it and it’s been kicked or something.”
“Fuck! What do we do now? Where else could she be?”
“What exactly did she say when you saw her?” he asks, and I try to remember as I tug at my hair with my hands.
“She said she was surprised I’d realized she’d gone.” Ezra winces, but I carry on. I can’t worry about that while I’m worrying about where she is. “She said she’s right here, she sees what’s happening, and it hurts.” To his credit, he doesn’t smack me for making our girl feel like that, but I can tell he’s not happy.
“Okay, but now she’snothere, so maybe she just went home? Would she have left to prove a point?”
I really hope not, but it’s the next logical place to check, I guess, so I nod and we head outside, calling a lift to take us back. We’re so full of nervous energy by the time we get back that we practically run up the stairs, bursting into the apartment one after the other. I hope to see Harlow curled up on the couch or hear the sounds of the shower, but the apartment is empty and silent. Her room is empty. My room is empty. She’s not in the living room or the bathroom. She’s not here.
“Fuck!” I bellow. I know she’s a fully grown adult and can take care of herself, but that doesn’t mean I want her out alone, dressed like she is, in the dark without a phone and pissed off with me. Especially not with the Guards being around here so recently. I rub at my chest as it aches with worry. I have no idea what to do next. “Do we call the police?”
Ezra looks at me like I’m delusional, and I vaguely know he’s right—we don’t trust them as far as we can throw them—but I’m desperate. “She’s an adult that’s been gone for less than ninety minutes. They’ll laugh you off the phone.”
“Her phone! See if there’s anything on there.” He pulls it out of his pocket, but when he stares blankly at the lock screen, I take it from him. I know her passcode is my birthday, and typing it in makes guilt take over the worry again for a second. It unlocks, and a message flashes up as unread. From me, an hour or so ago. I click on it, but of course only see the same conversation I can see on my own phone. Next, we go to calls and see the many missed calls from me. The last one before that was Fleur—the call she must have walked off to take. I hit call back, and she answers within a few rings.
“Hey, girl, you miss me already?” she says, and you can hear the smile in her voice.
“Fleur, it’s Sawyer.”
“Oh, hey. What’s up?”
“I’m just checking you aren’t with Harlow?” I’m trying to keep my voice light, but I’m not sure how well I’m managing it.
“No... I saw her a little while ago outside the bar, but she headed right back in. Is everything okay?” I don’t want to stress her out, and Ezra’s right—she hasn’t been gone long in the grand scheme of things. If she’s taking some space ’cause she’s pissed, then I don’t need to share that around or get anyone else worried.
“Yeah, all good. Have a good night.” I hang up before she can ask any more questions.
“Not with Fleur?” Ezra says as he paces, and I put the phone down on the counter with a shake of my head. “Now what?” A message chimes through on Harlow’s phone, and I open it instinctively, wondering what Fleur has to say, but the text blurs when I see the message above it. A photo Harlow sent her just over an hour ago.
“Fuck,” I breathe, stilling Ezra’s pacing as I grip onto the counter, my eyes not leaving the screen.
“What?” he asks, then joins me when I don’t answer him. He huffs a breath as if it’s all been knocked out of him and stares down at the photo our girl sent her best friend just over an hour ago...
A positive pregnancy test in her hand.
CHAPTER TWO
Nico
It’s only been a couple of days since I’ve seen Harlow, but I wasn’t prepared for how intrinsically I would feel the loss of her. It’s like a part of me has up and walked out, and I’m a fraction of who I am... or who I’m supposed to be. I can’t remember where one ends and the other begins, but I know both parts of me need Harlow.
I’ve been a complete coward avoiding her, and there’s only so long I can carry on, but I know she’s going to have questions. Not about why I won’t join her—she’d never make someone feel bad about that—but about me leaving. Why I didn’t tell her myself. I should’ve, but I didn’t, and I don’t have a reason I can tell her.
Every time I think of the last time I’ll see Harlow—how I’ll say goodbye, the hurt I’ll see looking back at me—I hate my father a little bit more. Apparently, that’s still possible. Maybe I’m projecting my own choices onto him. He hasn’t told me to stay away from her. I could’ve chosen the coffee shop and Harlow over university. But I know I can’t have Harlow as my own, so what’s the point of prolonging the torture?
My phone rings on the arm of the couch I’m lying on, half watching a movie on this crazy Saturday night, and I reach over my head for it. Speak of the devil.
“Father,” I answer blandly.
“Son,” he curtly replies. “I wonder if you’ll find some time in yourbusy scheduleto visit.” Again? He’s never requested my presence so much as recently, and the reason for the last summoning still sits sour in my stomach.
“Why?” I ask, although we both know I’ll be there.
“Apparently, you’ve been keeping more secrets than I thought, and I’d rather get the truth from you than dear Harlow.” I sit bolt upright at the mention of her name, a shiver running through me at the fact it’s coming from him, but he hangs up before I’ve replied.
I instinctively call Harlow’s phone, needing to hear her voice, but it’s engaged. Pulling my shoes and a hoodie on, I head down to my car and speed to the compound. I’ve already had more than enough of him using Harlow as a threat, and I wanna know what the fuck he wants this time. I want to go via her place, see for myself that she’s fine to ease my racing heart, but it’ll only delay finding out what he knows about her. Instead, I try her again on the way over, knowing that it’s selfish to call so late and just for my own sake after I’ve avoided her for days, but I can’t help myself. It’s still engaged when I pull up outside the family house and slam the car door shut.
