Page 64 of Pieces

My breath catches, and I freeze mid-step. Panic surges through me, hot and unwelcome. Oh my god, I didn’t even realize when I filled in the forms with the doctor that a referral letter would end up at my parents’ house. I figured it would come to my dorm. Oh my god. No, no, no.

Shoving the phone into my pocket, I try to steady my breathing, but I can’t. She knows. My mom knows.

The hallway feels way too bright all of a sudden, and the posters on the walls blur into nothing. I start walking, my legs moving on autopilot, even though my head is spinning. My good mood from a second ago is gone, replaced by this crushing sense of dread.

What do I even say to her? How do I explain this? I wanted more time to figure it out. I wanted to come to terms with it myself first.

Tears sting my eyes as I rush downstairs. I don’t even know where to start. Right now, I just need air, and a second to think before I completely lose it.

Chapter twenty-eight

Hudson

“Time’supforthequiz,” my business professor says. Everyone puts down their pens as a collective sigh ripples through the room. That wasn’t the worst quiz ever, but it makes me slightly nervous for the final exam.

Walking out of the room, I turn on my phone, and once it comes to life, it doesn’t stop buzzing. Notification after notification vibrates my palm as I grip the phone, trying to read Daphne’s messages, but they’re getting replaced with another before I can.

My stomach churns as I bring up her number, fearing the worst before pressing call. She answers on the third ring. “Daphne? What’s going on? Did something happen with your pitch today? The baby?”

Her breathing is sharp and shallow, like she’s been running or crying or both. “Hudson,” she gasps, her voice trembling. “It’s bad. I—I don’t know what to do.”

I step to the side of the hallway, out of the flow of students pouring out of classrooms. “Okay, calm down. Just tell me what’s happening. Are you safe?”

“Yes, I’m safe,” she says, but her voice cracks. “M-my mom she left me this voicemail, and I don’t even know how to respond.”

“What voicemail?” I ask, pushing past faceless students. “What do you mean?”

“She found a letter at home.” The words tumble out in a rush. “A referral for an OB-GYN and a scan. And she’s asking me why I need it and that I have to call her back immediately. But I can’t, Hudson, I can’t.” She sobs, and my heart cracks a little.

All I can do is grip the phone tighter. The thought that I’m the first person she calls right now isn’t lost on me, but it’s dulled by the fact that this is all about to blow up in our faces, in a really big way.

Daphne lets out a cry again, and it cuts right through me. I want to say something, anything, to make her feel better, but nothing feels like enough. She sounds so scared, and it’s wrecking me.

I haven’t seen her like this, haven’t heard her this raw. She always seems so in control, like she’s got it all figured out. But right now, it’s like the floor’s been ripped out from under her, and she’s free-falling. All I want to do is catch her.

I hear her shaky breathing on the other end of the line, like she’s trying to pull herself together but can’t quite get there.

“Daph,” I say, closing my eyes, wishing I could be right there with her. “Tell me what you need.”

There’s a pause, her breath hitching. “I… I don’t even know,” she whispers.

“Okay,” I say quickly, not wanting her to spiral any further. “Are you in your dorm? Can I come over?”

“I’m in the dorm,” she says, her voice barely audible.

“I’m on my way,” I say, already moving. I don’t care if I’m breaking some kind of unspoken rule by showing up like this. She needs someone, and I’m not letting her face this alone.

Then I hang up and haul ass across campus, a walk that should take me five minutes takes me less than two because I run like my ass is on fire. When I reach her building, I pause, shooting her a text, but someone leaves just as it sends so I sneak inside and race to her door.

It opens just as I lift my hand to knock, and her face almost breaks me in half. Her blue eyes are rimmed with red as well as the very tip of her nose shining like a beacon. As soon as she looks up at me, her bottom lip wobbles, and I don’t even hesitate to move inside, pulling her into a hug that I know she needs. Hell, I need it too.

She buries her face into my chest as I move us backward and kick her door shut.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, my voice steady, trying to be soothing, as I rest my chin lightly on top of her head. “I’ve got you.”

Her sobs are deep and raw, her shoulders shaking against my chest. Each broken cry has me holding her tighter, my arms wrapped around her like a barrier. Her fingers clutch at my shirt like I’m the only thing keeping her grounded. I can feel her tears soaking through the fabric, settling against my skin, but I don’t care. The only thing that matters is that she knows I’m here, that she’s not alone.

I rest my cheek on her hair, the faint scent of her shampoo familiar and comforting. Slowly, the tension in her body starts to ease, her shoulders no longer trembling, her breaths no longer catching.

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