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“I can’t,” I cry. The words fracture; my sentences won’t form. “I can’t lose him.”
Billie rocks us like I’m the one who’s dying. And in this moment—this awful, breathless, breaking moment—it feels like I am. I feel like I might. I don’t want to live in a world where Brody doesn’t exist, where I don’t get to wake up snuggled in his arms each morning.
The phone rings again, and it pulls me from my kamikaze spiral before I completely crash out.
I don’t move. I can’t. I feel as if I’m glued to this moment in time, stuck frozen by grief.
I hear it again, the sharp, happy ringtone, cutting through my sobs like a blade, but I can’t bring myself to reach for it. My arms are heavy, and my breath is too shallow. My body is still caught in that last second before the world ended.
Billie grabs it from the floor, checks the screen, and freezes.
“Harper,” she says, her voice shaking, “it’s Brody.”
The name hits me like a slap to the face and snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts. My heartbeat pounds loudly in my head as my lungs spasm for air. She hands it to me, and I look down at it, clumsy and desperate, fumbling to press the button, nearly dropping the device to the ground.
“Brody?” It’s barely a whisper. My voice is wrecked.
There’s static. A breath.
“Harp.” His voice is rough and hoarse, but it’s solid. He’s alive.
I burst into happy tears as every muscle in my body collapses. A sob rips through me, and I try to pull myself out of the hysteria, wanting to crawl through the phone to hold on to him tight.
“Are you okay?” I finally force out, sniffling. “Please.”
“I’m safe,” he says quickly. “I’m okay, Harp. I promise. I’m coming home to you.”
My whole body shakes. I can’t stop crying. I can’t get enough air between the gasps. “Nick said—he said there was a gun. He said you weren’t …” My throat closes around the words. “I thought …”
“I know. I’m sorry. The service out here is shit,” he tells me, and he sounds exhausted.
I cradle the phone in both hands like it’s my lifeline, and in a way, it is. “Are you hurt?”
“No. Just banged up. Nothing serious. Micah’s in custody. Mia’s okay. It’s over.”
I press a hand to my chest. “Come home.”
“I am.” He pauses. His voice drops lower. “I’m on my way to you. I’ll be there in less than an hour.”
A beat of silence stretches between us.
“It’s over, Harp. You and Billie don’t have to worry about this fuck anymore,” he says, his voice raw.
“And Asher?” Billie asks.
“Asher is safe. We’re all okay,” he confirms.
“I’m waiting for you. Please hurry,” I tell him.
The line goes quiet, not empty, not gone, just quiet. His call must’ve dropped.
I lower the phone, my chest still heaving, tears sliding down my cheeks. Billie holds on to me, eyes wide, hands wrapped around me.
“They’re okay,” I say breathlessly, my voice cracking.
My body trembles; the aftershock of everything is almost too much. I feel sick, like I need to throw up; the adrenaline is like poison in my blood. She exhales hard, relief shaking through her. We hold each other and cry, knowing that tomorrow will come, but Micah will never be able to hurt us again.
“This nightmare is over,” Billie finally whispers. Hope is laced in her voice. “He can’t hurt us.”