He doesn’t answer, and when his voicemail picks up, my heart sinks. I must have missed him. Fuck.
I don’t bother leaving a voicemail. It’s bad enough that he’s going to see my middle-of-the-night call.
After hanging up, I stare blankly at my phone. I nearly jump out of my skin when it starts ringing andHunterpops up. I fumble with the screen, my fingers shaking so hard I almost can’t answer, before finally managing to swipe to accept the call.
“Hello,” I whisper.
I have no idea why I’m whispering, but it feels necessary. My room is quiet, and I don’t want to disturb the silence of the night with my voice. It’s like my subconscious worries that if I speak too loudly, it’ll fracture the fragile sense of self I have.
“Hello?”
He sounds half asleep, and I have the sinking feeling that maybe I got the time wrong. My throat goes tight, and I can’t force myself to speak.
“Theo?” Hunter asks. There’s rustling like he’s moving. If I close my eyes, I can picture his bed, imagine him shifting in his blankets. “Theo, are you there?”
I clear my throat, trying to knock the knot there loose. “Did I wake you? Did I have the wrong time?”
“The wrong time?” Hunter sounds confused. “The wrong time for what?”
“Lila’s feed,” I blurt out. “I tried to time my call to the time of her feed.”
“Oh.” Hunter sighs, though it sounds more like a muted yawn, and I press the phone tighter to my ear, trying to hear the background noises better. “Lila’s weaned, Theo.”
“What?” I whisper.
“Yeah, she hasn’t had a night feed in weeks.”
For some reason, that knocks the breath right out of me. The world just moves along. Goats stop needing milk. People stop getting up in the middle of the night to feed them. Everything goes, goes, goes. And I’m stuck. Stuck in a constant loop of awful thoughts. Stuck thinking that maybe everything would be better if I could sleep the exhaustion away. How much sleep is enough sleep for it to go away? Hours? Days? Forever?
If I laid down and fell asleep forever, would that finally be enough to quench the never-ending thirst my body seems to have for it?
“I’m sorry,” I choke out, my throat raw and eyes burning with unshed tears. “I’ll let you go. I didn’t realize.”
I’m pulling the phone away when his voice comes through the line. Tinny and muted without it being pressed to my ear, but frantic enough that I bring it back without thought. “Please don’t,” he says. “Theo. Theo? Are you still there?”
I nod, though he can’t see me, and force myself to choke out a wobbly “Yes.”
He sighs. In relief? I wish I knew.
“Thank God,” he mumbles.
His accent is deeper in the quiet of the night. I noticed it before, at the farm. His vowels get a little longer, his consonants falling off at the ends like he’s not saying a complete word.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, my voice stronger now. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
He hums low. “You can always wake me up. Are you okay?”
No. “I don’t know. Can I ask you something?”
“Course.”
“Why are you talking to me?”
Hunter is quiet for a second, and I can practically see his assessing eyes in my head. “You called me…”
Of course he would think I mean right now. “No, not that. In general. I know I said before I didn’t have the energy, and I don’t even now.” God, words can’t even explain how little energy I have. But I also don’t think I can go any longer without knowing the answer. “After I treated you that way in the barn. Why are you talking to me? Why send me updates on the animals? Why talk to me on the phone?”
My chest heaves with a ragged breath, and I snap my mouth shut, forcing myself to calm down before I hyperventilate.
