Page 33

Chapter 33

Hannah

My head is pounding, making it impossible to focus on what my professor is saying. This isn’t normal for me, which only adds to my frustration. Today started badly and keeps getting worse. I barely made it out of my apartment on time this morning, and I’ve been playing catch-up ever since.

A headache is the last thing I need on top of everything else.

Ever since that moment at the studio, I’ve been spending all my spare time between school and yoga with Declan, and I don’t regret it. He’s been amazing and understanding, but as I sit here feeling like my head might split open, I’m starting to think everything I’ve got going on is catching up to me. The pressure of balancing it all is becoming too much.

I glance at the clock hanging above the professor’s head and sigh quietly when I realize there’s still forty-five minutes left in class. I’ve got ibuprofen in my purse, but nothing to swallow it with, and I don’t want to disrupt class by going to the water fountain in the hall. So I watch the second hand tick, tick, tick.

Each movement seems to match the throbbing in my head. I read somewhere that tapping can help with pain, so I gently tap two fingers against my wrist. It doesn’t really help, but it gives me something to focus on until the professor finally dismisses us.

I quickly gather my things and head for the bathroom, hoping some ibuprofen and cold water will get me through the rest of the day. I’m already late for my next class, but that’s the least of my concerns right now.

I drop my purse on one of the sinks and take out the small bottle of ibuprofen, swallowing two pills with water cupped in my hands. I splash more water on my face, which helps momentarily, but the pain quickly returns. It’ll take time for the medicine to kick in.

After drying my face and making sure I look somewhat presentable, I check my phone and see that I’m already five minutes late for class.

“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath.

I should care more, but I don’t have the energy. I sling my bag over my shoulder and head for the exit, each step making my head pound harder.

Maybe I should just skip the rest of my classes today.

As I try to tuck the ibuprofen bottle back into my school bag, I frown, realizing that something is missing. I stop and search frantically, hoping the paper I need to turn in today is somewhere in the bottom of my bag… but it’s not. I know I printed it this morning—I must have left it on the counter at home in my rush to feed Ralph and leave.

With a defeated sigh, I sink onto a bench near the bathrooms. My temples are throbbing, and I’m frustrated about forgetting the paper. I worked hard on it and printed it early specifically to avoid this situation, but it wasn’t enough.

I don’t know what compels me to do it, but I find myself pulling out my phone and calling Declan. He’s not my boyfriend or anything—we haven’t defined what exactly we are to each other—so maybe it’s a bad idea. But he’s the first person I think of, the only person I want to talk to right now. Maybe hearing his voice will help ease this headache.

The line rings several times, and I bite my lip as it finally goes to voicemail. “Hey, you’ve reached Declan. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I can.”

Hearing his voice makes me smile. But when I start speaking, my emotions take over, the frustration and pain that are thrashing around in my chest and head rising to the surface.

“Hey, it’s Hannah. I’m sorry to call you randomly like this, but I’m having a super shitty day, and I just… needed someone to talk to. I left late this morning and that screwed everything up. I forgot a paper that was due today, and now I have this killer headache, and everything about today just sucks. Anyway, I know you’re probably at practice, so I hope you’re having a good one. I’ll… I’ll talk to you later.”

I hang up, feeling slightly embarrassed about my message. I don’t usually let people see me vulnerable like that, but I know he’ll understand. Even if he doesn’t, I know he won’t make me feel bad about it.

I drop my phone back into my purse and lean back against the wall, drawing in a deep breath as I try to tame the pounding in my temples. I should go to class, but the pain is too intense. I wince and close my eyes, hoping the ibuprofen will kick in soon.

Time passes as I sit as still as I can, doing my best to focus on anything but the pain. People walk by, and I’m aware I probably look strange sitting here with my eyes closed, but this is law school—everyone here has definitely seen worse breakdowns.

When the deep breathing doesn’t work, I press my hands over my eyes, trying to relieve some pressure.

I try not to think about the class I’m missing or the paper I forgot. It really doesn’t matter if I skip the class, especially since I forgot the assignment I was supposed to be turning in for it anyway, but it’s still another fumble for me today.

I really need to get it together.

As soon as the thought zips through my brain, shame streaks after it for getting down on myself. Like Declan said the other day, I have a lot on my plate, so I probably shouldn’t be surprised that I’m overlooking some stuff. And I’m doing really well in that class anyway, so it’s not like one late assignment is going to be the end of the world.

But the perfectionist in me isn’t buying it. A real lawyer needs to be more on top of things.

My brain spirals down its familiar path of self-doubt, but then I feel a hand softly touch my shoulder. I blink open heavy eyelids, half expecting to see Stevie or one of my other school friends who saw me and stopped to make sure I’m okay.

But my heart does a somersault in my chest when I realize it’s Declan standing in front of me, his gorgeous face tight with concern.

“You came,” I say, surprise flickering through me.

How long have I been sitting here? And how did he get here so quickly? I’m not sure if this is real or if my headache is making me hallucinate.

“Of course I did. You needed me, so here I am.” He sits beside me on the bench, which creaks under his weight—confirming this is definitely real. “I was at practice, but I saw you’d called when we took a break, so I headed over as soon as I could.”

“And they just let you?”

He grins. “I may have made up an emergency. I’m just grateful I didn’t get a speeding ticket on the way here.”

I smile back, touched that he came all this way just for me. I didn’t mean to worry him—it wasn’t a real emergency, just a bad day—but I’m glad he’s here.

He studies my face carefully. “Are you okay?”

I shrug and close my eyes again, because the overhead lights are making my headache worse. I don’t want him to worry, especially after the slightly teary message I left him earlier.

“Hannah?” he asks softly, leaning closer.

“It’s nothing. I’ve gotten stress headaches before.”

More often lately, but I figure that’s just part of being in law school.

“Okay, but you didn’t answer my question,” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

“I’ll be okay. I took some ibuprofen earlier. It’s starting to help.”

That’s not entirely true, but the pain has eased slightly. I’m not sure if it’s the medicine or his presence.

The bench creaks again as he stands, and before I can fully open my eyes, I feel his strong hands on me. When he lifts me effortlessly into his arms, I gasp in surprise, wrapping my arms around his neck to steady myself.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking care of you,” he says simply, carrying me out of the building and across the parking lot to my car. “Where are your keys?”

I dig them out of my bag and hand them to him in a daze, and he unlocks the doors and carries me around to the passenger side.

“What are you doing?” I ask again, looking up at me with furrowed brows.

“I don’t want you to be alone right now, so I’m gonna take you back to my place. You’re in no shape to drive right now.”

“What about your bike?”

He shrugs. “I’ll come back and get it later. I’m not worried about that.”

I’m not feeling well enough to argue, and he’s probably right about me not being in any condition to drive at the moment, so I settle into the passenger seat without protest. He buckles me in before he closes the door as gently and quietly as possible. Then he walks around to the driver’s side and gets in, turning the key in the ignition. Before we set off, he rests a hand on my thigh and smiles at me.

I smile back, the knot I didn’t even realize I was carrying in my stomach unwinding slightly. As he pulls away from the curb, I lean my head back against the head rest, letting my eyes drift closed.