Chapter 27

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HANNAH

I didn't get any texts from Nate all the next week, but I really didn't mind. I'd given him my number, but I didn't think I'd be able to really speak to him coherently anyway. I hated talking on the phone to begin with, and honestly, the thought of having actual conversations with him filled me with such anxiety, I just avoided the thought altogether. I had to admit, there was a substantial part of me that was relieved at the end of each day when he hadn't texted or called. I wasn't naïve enough to think anything would come of it anyway. Nate pretty much had his pick of women, so there was no way he'd ever settle down with me, and there was no way I'd settle for less. I'd done the whole friends with benefits thing, and it'd just left me feeling used and heartbroken. I wasn't planning on ever repeating that time of my life. It didn't matter anyway. I just considered it an accomplishment that he'd even asked for my number in the first place. That was the win for me.

When my alarm went off the next Saturday morning, I woke up feeling awful. My head was pounding, my stomach was roiling, and when I forced myself to sit up, a wave of intense dizziness washed over me, making my stomach churn even more. A moment later, I raced to the bathroom across the hall, making it just in time to launch myself down in front of the toilet to throw up. My stomach heaved, and its contents erupted from my mouth, tears streaming down my face as I tried to catch my breath between bouts.

"Hannah? Are you okay?"

I closed my eyes and groaned. Great. It couldn't have been enough to just be sick. Of course not. I had to let Liam see me this way, curled over the porcelain throne, because I'd been an idiot and forgotten to close the bathroom door.

"Just peachy," I croaked and then heaved into the toilet again. I shuddered with the force of it, a tiny, miserable little moan escaping my throat, making me wish I could just die right here rather than having him witness me like this. I took a deep breath when it was over. "You might want to pack up Emily and get the hell out of Dodge. I don't want to get either of you sick." I looked up at him apologetically.

"I can't just leave you here like this," he protested, looking unsure of what to do. Even in the state I was in, I found his expression adorable.

"Yes, you can. It's probably just some sort of flu; I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. I'll just sleep the day away," I said, giving him a weak smile. I started to push myself up from the floor, my body trembling from the effort. I felt like I had no strength.

Immediately, he was there, taking my arm gently and helping me to stand. His hand remained on my elbow, as if to be there to catch me if I collapsed.

"Thanks," I said quietly, my face flushing, feeling both grateful and embarrassed at the same time. I couldn't look at him. I moved weakly to the sink and brushed my teeth, needing to get the taste of puke out of my mouth. I'd thought he'd let me be, go check on Emily or something, but he stayed right there, his hand moving to my back and rubbing soothingly. His hand felt warm through the thin material of my tank top, and I had to admit to myself that it felt good. I felt...taken care of. I glanced up at him briefly in the mirror and found him looking back at me tenderly, with concern. I gave him a small smile. He really was a good friend.

When I was done, he handed me a couple of Advil and some water, which I took, then grabbed a washcloth and wet it with cold water. He walked with me back across the hall to my room, hand on the small of my back to steady me. I could have made it on my own, but it felt really nice that he was there, caring enough about me to want to make sure.

I stopped in my tracks, though, when I thought of everything he'd need to take Emily out for the day. Liam looked at me curiously.

"Emily," I explained. "You're going to need diapers and snacks and a change of clothes—"

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