EVERETT
The banging in my head pounds with the beat of my heart and I groan, irritated by the volume.
But as I wake up, it becomes obvious that the banging isn’t just from my hangover.
It’s coming from within my apartment.
“Fuck off,” I bark, flipping onto my back and throwing my arm over my face.
The last thing I want to do right now is open my eyes.
Memories from the night before flicker to life, and I cringe.
I knew I shouldn’t have gone out to meet the guys. And that was before that email came through.
I wasn’t going to go. I messaged Bea, and I was waiting for her reply.
Only, it never came.
She didn’t even read it.
It just sat there with two gray ticks.
Reason after reason for why that might have been hit me, and each one was worse than the last.
What if…what if she changed her mind?
What if she decided the day of the ultrasound that she couldn’t possibly have my baby, and she?—
Acid sloshes in my stomach, surging up my throat.
Oh God.
I’m out of bed and hugging the toilet in three seconds flat before what’s left of last night’s binge drinking makes a reappearance.
My body burns red hot, sweat glistening across my skin as I sink back to my ass.
Throughout all of this, the banging continues.
“FUCK,” I roar, dropping my head into my hands.
My stomach continues to protest, and my head continues thumping, but I’m not going to be able to fix any of that until the person continually pounding on my door fucks the hell off.
Climbing to my feet, I drag a clean pair of boxers from the drawer as I walk through my dressing room and then march toward the front door.
“What?” I bark, letting whoever it is know that they’re really not fucking welcome.
For a second, my hungover brain doesn’t think there’s anyone there. But then my eyes drop, and I find the reason for the early morning wake-up glaring at me through narrowed eyes.
“Well, what a fucking delight you are this afternoon,” Hailee snarks as she slips past me, uninvited, and marches into my apartment as if she owns the fucking place.
“Are you fucking shitting me?” I complain, having little choice but to follow her.
“Unfortunately, not. I did bring you coffee, though,” she says, placing a takeout cup on my kitchen counter with a little more force than necessary.
I lunge for it, and Hailee watches with raised eyebrows, her arms folded over her chest.
“So…” she starts.
