The voicemail clicked on. Jake's voice, casual and warm: "Hey, you've reached Jake Cooper. Leave a message."
Hannah's chest tightened. It was fine. He was probably working. Maybe in the middle of a repair job, hands full of tools.
She pressed call again.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
"Hey, you've reached Jake Cooper?—"
Her fingers shook as she ended the call.
He was busy. That was all. Maybe his phone was off. Maybe he was already on his way to the station to get her out. He had to be. Because Jake would never let her sit here alone, terrified and confused, without doing everything in his power to help her.
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as she pressed call one more time.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
"Hey, you've reached?—"
"Jake..." Her voice cracked. She swallowed hard, pressing her free hand against her stomach like she could hold herself together through sheer force of will. "Please call me. I don't?—"
The words stuck in her throat. How could she explain this? How could she tell him that her entire world had imploded in the space of a morning?
"I don't know what's happening." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I need you."
The silence stretched, heavy with all the things she couldn't say.
I'm scared.
I don't understand.
Please make this make sense.
"Please, Jake." The words felt like they were being torn from somewhere deep in her chest. "I need you."
She ended the call, her hands shaking so badly she nearly dropped the phone.
He would call back.
He would come for her.
He had to.
But something cold and sharp had taken root in her chest—a splinter of doubt she couldn't quite ignore.
Jake should have answered.
Jake should be here.
Jake...
