Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Garrett. Hey. I’m sorry to do this, but I need you to come home. I…um…”
I frown when she goes silent for several beats. Worry begins tugging at my insides.
“I really don’t want to tell you over the phone, but you’re filming and I’m not sure when you’ll be home and I’m sort of freaking out here, so I’m just going to say it—I’m pregnant.”
She’s what?
I nearly drop the phone as shock slams into me.
“I meant for us to sit down properly and talk about this, not to blurt it out in a voicemail. But I’m pregnant and I’m, um, bleeding and I think something’s wrong. I need you to take me to the hospital.” Her voice is small, frightened. It makes my blood run cold with fear. “I don’t want to go alone.”
“We about ready to get started again?” the producer calls impatiently.
I look over to see Farber and my dad have already taken their seats.
After a brief stuttering glitch, my brain snaps back to the present and the only thing that matters: getting to Hannah right fucking now.
“No,” I call back. I rip off my mic pack and toss it at Landon, who’s approaching me in concern. “I’m sorry, I have to go. There’s been an emergency.”
40
Hannah
“For fuck’s sake. The light’s green, asshole!”
Garrett lays on the horn.
We’re on our way to the hospital, and I’ve been braced in my seat since we pulled out of the driveway and almost backed into a passing car. Traffic won’t cut us a break as Garrett white-knuckles the steering wheel and alternates between impatient outbursts, worried questions, and angry demands.
“How long has this been going on?” he snaps, scowling at the windshield.
“I woke up not feeling well. I had cramps, felt a bit nauseous. Then it got worse.”
“Why didn’t you say something then?”
“Because you were all worked up about the interview, and I didn’t want to add extra stress on you. I couldn’t tell you I was pregnant five minutes before you had to leave the house to see your father.”
“I wouldn’t have gone!” he shouts. Then he takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just don’t get it, Wellsy. How could you not tell me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you. When I noticed the blood and texted Allie—”
“Allie knows?” Garrett swerves between vehicles.
“—she said I should ask Sabrina if it was normal and—”
“Sabrina knows?” he roars. “Jesus Christ. Am I the last one to find out?”
My hand grips the armrest for dear life. “I meant to tell you,” I say through a lump of guilt. “I kept trying to, but it never felt like the right time. I wasn’t trying to hide it from you, Garrett. I wanted to tell you.”
“But you didn’t. The first time I hear anything about it, I’ve spent all day getting grilled beside Phil, and I check my voicemail to hear you basically in tears telling me to come home because you’re pregnant. I mean, what the hell, Hannah?”
“This is why I haven’t said anything!” Tears sting my eyes as desperation, frustration, and fear form a lethal cocktail in my throat. I feel like I’m going to throw up. “The last thing I wanted was to dump it on you like this. You had this interview. And before that, it was the awards. And before that, it was post-season.”
“You’ve known about this since post-season?” He nearly sideswipes a utility van that’s trying to merge. Horns blare at us from all directions as he speeds up and slips into the left lane. “Christ.”
“Don’t yell at me.”
“I’m not yelling at you,” he growls through gritted teeth. “I’m yelling at the fact that you’ve kept this from me for months.”
“At this point I’m sorry I called at all,” I growl back. “I should have just gone by myself.” Because the louder he gets, and the more the indignation strains his voice while I’m sitting on a pad soaking up blood, the more my own anger rises.
“That’s a low blow.” He curses loudly. “I can’t believe you just said that!”
“You’re shouting at me again,” I snap in accusation. I could be losing our baby, and this jackass is making it all about himself like I’m not terrified.
“This is exactly the kind of shit my father pulls,” Garrett snaps back. “Manipulating me with information. Keeping things to himself.”
“Are you serious right now?” I’m so furious, my hands are actually burning with the urge to smack him. “You’re comparing me to your father?”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Talk about low blows.” I can’t remember the last time I was this mad at anyone. “You know what, Garrett, if you really wanted to get him out of your life, you could just be honest. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: just tell the world what a monster he is and be done with it. You act like you have to keep silent about the abuse and protect the man’s legacy. But you’ve chosen to keep quiet. You do this to yourself.”