Page 44 of Erik's Redemption
“Hey, it’s good to see you!” The smile slipped from Taylor’s lips when her gaze fell on Hannah. “You’re not looking great, Han. Are you okay?”
She nodded, the pain pressing at her skull. “Yeah, I’ve just got a headache.”
“Do you need to go home? I’m sure Reuben wouldn’t mind—”
“No. I’m okay.” She couldn’t go home. She had too much work to do, and she couldn’t keep asking everyone to cover for her.
She forced another smile to her lips as she walked past Taylor and into her office. Once she was behind her desk, she turned on her computer and started responding to emails, but every second that passed made the thudding of her skull worsen, to the point she almost lowered her head to the desk and closed her eyes.
She lasted another half hour before it became too much.
God, what was wrong with her? Did she have the flu all of a sudden? Maybe the week of stress had finally caught up with her and her body had gotten sick?
She hated doing it, but she lifted her bag and left her office. She was tempted to leave a message on Reuben’s desk for when he got in, but she quickly pushed that idea aside. She needed to get home because this headache felt like it would be turning into a migraine.
When she reached her car, she didn’t immediately slide in, instead taking a moment to close her eyes and massage her temple again. After a few deep breaths, she got into the car.
The drive to her place was a slow blur, part of her realizing midtrip that she shouldn’t even be driving right now, but she was so desperate to get to a bed and rest that she didn’t pause to call someone for help.
When she finally got home, she barely managed to get inside before her body tried to give up on her.
She knew she needed to check her sugar levels. She needed to figure out why there was a shake in her fingers and an ache in her head. The symptoms almost matched when she had a sugar high, only worse.
The second she reached the couch, she dropped, because the bedroom was too far, and once she was down, there was no getting back up. All she could do was pray that she’d open her eyes later and have the energy to look after herself.
CHAPTER 15
Erik pounded a nail into the gutter. The thing didn’t really need fixing, but he was trying to stay busy. That was all he’d been doing for the last week. Because staying busy was the only way he knew to keep himself from going to her. Begging her to forgive him.
He was trying to give her space. Time to get her head around what he’d done. He just had to hope like hell that, eventually, she’d return to him.
He’d pestered the shit out of Chandler to give him a job, something to do, but for once, there wasn’t any work.
You’re my person. In every scenario. In every version of every story that’s ours, you are mine, and I am yours.
Those were the words she’d spoken to him. And he was holding on to them with two hands like a fucking lifeline. Every time he remembered the look on her face when she’d walked out on him, he tugged those words back and kept them close.
He climbed down the ladder and shifted it to the next section of gutter at the corner of the house.
He hated that Hannah hadn’t returned to her home for the last week. An entire seven days of not seeing her. Not hearing her voice. He was living for those updates from Chandler. Theconfirmation that she was okay. He’d pushed for information every day. Chandler hadn’t been able to give him much because she’d spent all of that time either inside Henry’s house or in her office.
He tugged his phone from his pocket, checking the screen for what had to be the hundredth damn time.
No text from Hannah.
The muscles in his forearms tightened. He’d messaged her every day. Checking in. Reminding her that he’d like to talk and that he loved her. Because even though he could give her space physically, emotionally, he needed to make contact.
He was just about to shove his phone back into his pocket when it rang, Chandler’s name flashing on the screen. Before he could answer it, the sound of a car engine in the driveway next door caught his attention. When he saw Hannah’s old Honda, his heart stopped.
She was home.
When she stepped out of the car, the sight of her slammed into him.
It took him about three seconds to recover and notice the deep lines etched between her brows. The way her skin was too pale. And how she bumped into the doorframe as she stepped inside her house.
Something was wrong. Was she hurt?
He answered the call before it could stop ringing. “What’s wrong with her?”
