I did get another call from the station about another arrest having been made, and neither of us has gotten any more creepy texts, so now I’m wondering if there’s no one left for us to have to worry about.
My loves are still snoozing, and I feel a rare sense of calm as I crack eggs into a bowl and whisk them into a frothy mixture, the quiet, early-morning silence giving me a moment to rewire my brain.
In an attempt to lift everyone's spirits this morning, or at least mine, I make my way over to the wine fridge and grab a bottle of prosecco. With a satisfying pop, I uncork it and pour myself a mimosa, loving the mix of citrus and breakfast smells. Each sip makes me more optimistic about the day ahead.
Humming to myself as I finish setting the table, Jack comes down the stairs. My heart skips a beat at the sight of him in his messy-haired glory.
"Morning," he greets me with a kiss. "What's all this?"
I grin up at him. "Just thought I'd spoil my two favorite people with a yummy brekkie. How's Sienna?"
"She's still sleeping, but I suspect that once her batteries are fully recharged, we’re both in for it."
He’s probably right. She has lost time to make up for. I pour and hand him a mimosa, thinking we’re both going to need it for entirely different reasons once baby girl wakes up.
He clinks his glass against mine and places it on the countertop without taking a drink before stepping over to pour himself a cup of coffee. "Can't wreck my freshly brushed teeth with OJ."
I’m plating our omelets when a sudden sharp pain hits my stomach. Sucking in a breath, I manage to place them down before I double over.
"You okay?" Jack is by my side in an instant.
I nod, but the pain only gets worse along with a wave of nausea. Struggling to stand, I barely make it to the sink before puking my guts out. Mimosa doesnottaste as good the second time around.
Once I recover, I turn on the water to rinse the puke down the drain and cringe to myself that I just upchucked in front of him. “I think I might have Sienna’s bug.”
Way to state the obvious, Quinnifer.
He rubs the small of my back. His phone buzzes in his pocket. He ignores it, focused on me until it buzzes again.
And again.
He furrows his brow, confused. I’m wondering the same thing—who could be texting him so insistently? With a sigh, hepulls the phone out and taps the screen. His expression shifts from confusion to pure shock.
“What is it?” Worry coils in my stomach, even though there’s already more than enough to deal with. I dry heave over the sink again, nausea gripping me.
He absently uses his free hand to gather my hair into a loose ponytail, holding it back as I wretch. “It’s my sister.” His voice is tight as he places his phone on the counter, turning toward me. “She overdosed. They just took her to the hospital.”
The weight of his words hangs in the air. My heart aches for him, but all I can manage is a strained, “Is she... okay?”
I see something like hope in his eyes, fragile and fleeting, an unspoken wish that all of this ends up being fine—that maybe this will be her wake up call. An ache forms deep within my chest. I want to be hopeful for him, but there’s a part of me that recoils at the thought. That little girl inside me, the one who used to hope her parents would choose her for once, is clawing her way to the surface when I think of all the times Jack’s sister has not chosen her daughter.
It’s hard to be hopeful for someone else’s situation when hope has only ever brought me disappointment.
It’s hard to be hopeful when the outcome of this could be so much worse than any of that.
“I don’t know. I feel like I have to go. But I—” He hesitates, his voice cracking, his hand still resting on my back. "I can't just leave you here like this." I know he doesn’t just mean because I am sick, but because of everything else too.
“You have to go," I say, swallowing the nausea rising in my throat. "I’ll be fine. It’s just a stomach bug. You need to be there for her.”
“I don’t know how long it’ll take... It’s three hours one way. What if—" He shakes his head, the uncertainty and worry clear on his face.
“I’ll be safe here," I assure him, forcing a weak smile. "The security system’s on, and our three besties are just a phone call away. Go. You need to be with her.”
He scrubs his hands over his face, clearly torn, before pulling me into his arms. "I don’t know what’s right, but I feel like I have to." His words are strained.
I rub his back gently, trying to comfort him even though I feel like I’m barely holding on myself. “It’s hard when you don’t have time to think about it, but you know what you have to do. If you are worried about me being here alone, we can call Kruz or one of the guys to come over for a while.”
His grip on me tightens before he pulls away slightly, resting his forehead against mine. “You’re right. But I hate leaving you like this.”
