Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 54520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
The question hits low. My chest tightens, snagging on the truth I’ve been trying to ignore.
“I’m not scared to love him, Hattie. I already do. I think I have for a long time.” My voice dips, softer now. “It’s losing him that terrifies me.”
The smile she gives me is sad. “Know what’s even scarier?”
She doesn’t rush to answer, just holds my gaze, warm with understanding.
“Never knowing love at all.”
Her words hit with a quiet force, echoing the same sentiment Penny, Hollis, and Ellie shared with me weeks ago. Not dramatic. Not performative. Just true.
It falls on an exhale I didn’t realize I was holding. “God, I’m so screwed up,” I murmur, dragging a hand through my hair.
Her eyes spark, warm and amused. “You and me both. I blame Mom and Dad for it.”
A laugh escapes, because she’s not wrong. “Have you talked to Mom yet?” I ask, reaching for my coffee.
“No,” she mutters. “But I will. Today.”
“Good. Because I’m running out of excuses, and the last thing I need is her showing up here unannounced.”
It would be an absolute disaster.
Her groan echoes my exact thoughts. “That makes two of us.” She pushes from her chair, dumping her glass in the sink “I need to grab a shower first. I’ve got that meeting with the divorce lawyer later today. Mind if I steal more of your clothes?”
I gesture toward the hallway without looking up. “Have at it.”
“Thanks. I’ll get on the moving company soon. Promise.”
I’m not worried about it, and she knows it. She has enough to carry right now.
Her arms circle my shoulders from behind, warm and certain, the weight of her chin resting lightly on my head. “I love you. Thank you for everything these last few days.”
Emotion grips my throat. It’s not just those words but the feel of her arms around me. It’s everything I’ve missed since we were kids, everything I once thought we’d never have again.
My hand finds her arm as I lean into the hug. “I love you too.”
She gives me one last squeeze before letting go. “Call him.”
Then she’s gone, disappearing into the bathroom, the faint sound of running water drifting down the hall.
I stare at my phone like it holds the key to my entire future, thoughts tangled in everything I want to say but can’t seem to find the words for.
What if I’m too late? What if he doesn’t even want to hear from me?
The sudden buzz cuts through my spiraling thoughts, the vibration jolting the phone across the table.
My heart lifts, hope rushing…only to deflate when I see Hollis’s name on the screen.
I swallow the disappointment and answer. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Hey…” Her voice is quiet, subdued in a way that instantly puts me on alert. “Have you heard from Linc by any chance?”
The question throws me, a ripple of unease curling through my stomach. “Not since yesterday. He’s on rotation. Why?”
The pause is too long. Too heavy.
A slow chill creeps down my spine.
“Hollis.” Her name scrapes past the lump in my throat. “What’s going on?”
A shaky exhale bleeds through the line. “Mike’s gonna kill me for calling you,” she mutters, but pushes on. “We were at breakfast when he got the call. I don’t know everything, but apparently there was a gas leak at the old mill, and while the firefighters were checking it out…”
A beat. Barely a breath.
“…the building collapsed.”
The words fracture beneath the roar in my ears. I can’t move, can’t breathe—paralyzed by something even deeper than fear.
“I don’t know how bad it is,” she adds quickly. “Only that he was taken to the hospital.”
The world snaps back into motion.
I shove to my feet, swiping my keys from the counter. “Which one?”
“Lancaster. Room 209, I think. But let me come get you—we can go together and—”
“No,” the protest chokes out of me. “I’m sorry, but I can’t wait. I have to go now.”
Breathing is impossible. Waiting even more so…
Nothing matters but getting to him.
I’m already outside, slippers slapping against the porch steps.
“Okay,” she says gently. “Just…drive safe. I’ll call if I hear anything else.”
“Thanks.”
Ending the call, I toss the phone onto the passenger seat without looking, my tires screeching as I tear out of the driveway.
My hands tremble on the wheel, knuckles white, denial and dread battling inside my chest as a storm of images flash behind my eyes—sirens blaring, concrete collapsing, his name shouted through the chaos.
What if he’s unconscious? What if he’s too hurt to even know I’m there? What if I’m too late?
A sob breaks loose, the thought of never getting the chance to tell him how sorry I am—how much I love him—completely unraveling me.
“Please let him be okay. Please…”
Through the tears, Heart Mountain rises into view. It’s presence solid and still, like it’s the only thing left standing in the wreckage.
As if it heard the call of my breaking heart.