Page 106 of From This Moment (After We Fall 4)
“Don’t say that. Don’t give up hope.”
“It’s just…been a hard day.”
I wished more than anything I could take her in my arms and show her that she meant more to me than anything in the world. Words weren’t helping me. “You need a good night’s sleep. Call me tomorrow?”
“Okay.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
But she said it like she wished she didn’t.
Twenty
HANNAH
He chose her.
It was all I could think.
He’d had to choose, and he chose her.
All night long, that thought pummeled my brain like a heavyweight champion, keeping me awake. While I was glad Wes had friends who were supportive, Lenore had forced him to choose between us, and he chose her.
Just like that, my fears were magnified. Multiplied. Intensified.
Maybe she really was going to re-examine her feelings about Wes and me—I had my doubts—but she’d scored a massive victory over me in the process. And Wes had delivered it. It felt like a crushing blow.
How could I have trusted him with my heart? What was I going to do now that he had it? Could I get it back somehow?
I must have fallen asleep eventually, because I woke from a terrible nightmare around five a.m. It was one from the nightmare grab bag I’d suffered in the months immediately following Drew’s heart attack, the one where I’m trapped in a closet being suffocated by someone or something I can’t see, or by darkness itself.
When I opened my eyes, I was shaking and panting, drenched in sweat. My pulse thundered in my ears. I couldn’t catch my breath.
I got out of bed and checked on Abby, who was sleeping peacefully. I was tempted to crawl into bed with her, but didn’t want to disturb her slumber. Back in my room, I changed the sheets, put on new pajamas, and attempted sleep again, but I only managed another forty-five minutes before my alarm went off.
I dragged myself out of bed and skipped the shower, throwing on jeans and an old sweatshirt before waking up Abby for school. Now that it was October, the inn didn’t need me during the week. After half a pot of coffee I felt a little better, and I spent the morning putting together recipes for the inn cookbook and trying to come up with blog post ideas. When it was clear creativity had abandoned me in the wake of a near-sleepless night, I went back to bed and buried myself in the covers.
It felt all too familiar, and it terrified me further.
Around two, I forced myself to get out of bed and go downstairs. When I checked my phone, I noticed I’d missed a call from Abby’s school and had voicemail. Immediately, my sense of dread deepened.
“Hello Mrs. Parks, this is Abby’s teacher, Kim Lowry. I’m a little concerned about Abby and wanted to touch base with you about something that happened today. I wondered if you might be available after school for a brief meeting? Give me a call back, please.” She recited her number and thanked me before hanging up.
My stomach roiled as I imagined what could have happened at school to concern her teacher. My hands shook as I called her back. My voice trembled as I left a message saying yes, I would be there after school and thank you for calling.
I ended the call and set my phone down, lowering myself onto a kitchen chair. For several minutes I sat there staring into space, feeling as if I were getting smaller and smaller and everything around me was getting bigger. The kitchen was cavernous. My h
ouse was enormous. The world was monstrously huge and spinning out of control. I couldn’t hold on.
I shut my eyes and flattened my palms on the table. Stay calm. You can handle this. Whatever it is, you can handle it.
After a few deep breaths, I went upstairs and took a shower.
“Mrs. Parks. Thank you for coming.” Mrs. Lowry smiled at me, but it was the kind of smile you gave someone you felt sorry for, the kind where your eyes say you poor thing.
I didn’t want her sympathy. “Of course.”
