Page 82 of Until Hanna

“Oh yeah, right,” Otto mutters, and I shake my head. Thankfully Gigi didn’t end up pregnant from their time together. Something evenOttowas relieved about, according to Ham.

“We’ll roll with you.” Ham stands. “They have a Jamaican food restaurant over there. Hanna would probably love it, we can pick up dinner before we head back this way.”

“Sounds good. I just need to get dressed.” I finish sending for a car as I walk into the bedroom. After changing out of my shorts for a pair of sweats, and putting on my sneakers. I grab a hoodie from the closet and my wallet, then meet the guys in the living room.

When we get outside, I lock up behind us as the car I ordered arrives, and I ask the driver to take us to Paddington Station. With any luck, I’ll be able to intercept Hanna by the time she gets off the train. And yeah, I know I’m being ridiculous and overprotective, but it’s not only about her going up and down a staircase, hauling shit with her. I don’t like the idea of her going back into that house at all, let alone by herself. It took me moving her out of there and separating her from the negative memories to get her back to her old self. And now, she’s pregnant, so I don’t want her upset for any reason.

“We should have taken the fucking train.” My jaw clenches when traffic slows to almost a standstill.

“There was an accident,” the driver says, glancing back at me through the rearview mirror.

“Is there another route we can take?” Ham asks him.

“No, the side roads are just as bad this time of the evening.”

“Great,” I mutter, having no choice but to sit and wait.

Dialing Hanna’s number, I listen to it ring until it goes to voicemail.

“Call me back baby.” I hang up and let out a silent curse.

As the cab pulls up in front of Hanna’s old apartment, I pay the driver, then get out, slamming the door. I’ve called her a dozen or more times since we got in the cab, but every fucking time my calls continue to go to voicemail. I don’t know if she’s ignoring me or if she’s still got her phone on silent. Either way, she and I will be having a conversation as soon as I lay eyes on her and can see for myself she’s all right and that this feeling in my gut is nothing but my own fear.

Walking up to the front steps with Ham and Otto on my heels, I notice it’s dark inside the house. The light you can normally see shining through the smoked glass on either side of the door is completely extinguished. And that unease in my gut grows, and adrenalin begins to flood my system.

I press the bell for all three floors and wait, looking back at Ham and Otto when I don’t hear or see anything.

“Are you sure she was meeting her here?” Otto asks, I nod, then press the bells again.

Nothing. If she’s not here, where the fuck is she?

“I just saw someone look out the window on the top floor,” Otto tells me, and I walk down to where he’s standing.

“Which one?”

“The top right.” He points up to one of the upper windows. The lights are on, and the blinds are open, but I don’t see anyone.

“I don’t like this,” Ham mutter and my chest gets tight.

“Do either of you know how to jimmy open a lock?” Otto asks.

“No.” I go back up the steps and ring the bell again. If whoever is here isn’t going to answer the door, then I’m going to break it fucking down.

“Do me a favor and call the cops,” I tell Ham, and with a nod, he pulls out his phone while I check the handle on the door. It’s locked like I knew it would be. Fuck.

Shoving my shoulder into it, it doesn’t budge an inch. It doesn’t even rattle. The doors are old and well-made like things used to be. I step back and look at the glass on either side. They’re not wide enough for any of us to get through and are both so far from the handle it wouldn’t make sense to break them anyway. I shove my shoulder into the door again. Once again, nothing.

“Together,” Otto says, jogging up the steps, and he and I both ram into it at the same time. It creaks.

“Again,” I bite out, and we do it again, and then Ham joins us at the top of the steps after hanging up with the cops. If someone is upstairs, I know they can hear us attempting to break in, yet they still aren’t coming to see what’s going on.

On what must me the twelfth try to get the door open, I hear the sound of wood cracking, and the three of us do it again and stumble into the house as the door crashes inward. Finding the light switch for the entryway, I flip it on, and my insides seize when I see Hanna. She’s slumped over, blood dotting the side of her head, and Kate lying close on the steps like she fell down them.

“Jesus,” Ham whispers as pure terror courses through my veins.

“Call the police again. Tell them we need an ambulance.” I drop down next to Hanna and place my fingers against her throat to feel for a pulse. It’s there, steady and strong. I move my hand to her stomach for a brief moment then rest it against her chest. She’s breathing. The reality that she is alive has my eyes getting wet. “Baby,” I call, cupping her cheek when all I want to do is gather her in my arms. “Hanna, you need to wake up, baby.” My voice shakes.

“Is she okay?” Ham asks from where he’s moving Kate off the steps.

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