Hearts on Broadway (Book 2)

Chapter 9 - Reaching Out

The house was too quiet. The kind of quiet that crept into your bones and made everything feel hollow. Morgan sat at the kitchen table, staring blankly at the cup of coffee in front of him. He hadn't touched it, though. He hadn't done much of anything since Georgie left.

It had been two days, but it felt like a lifetime. The house felt like a shell without her, and every corner held a reminder of what he had lost. Her voice still echoed in his mind—the last thing she had said before she walked out the door: I can't stay. I'm sorry.

He was sorry too, sorry that he hadn't seen this coming, sorry that he couldn't fix things, sorry that he was left behind to pick up the pieces.

Morgan glanced over at the living room where Jackson was asleep in his bouncer. The little guy had been fussy all morning, probably sensing the tension in the air. Morgan had done his best to keep him calm, but it hadn't been easy. Every time Jackson cried, it felt like another reminder of how much Morgan was trying to handle on his own.

He rubbed a hand over his face, the exhaustion weighing on him. He needed help—someone to talk to, someone who could offer a lifeline. And there were only two people who had always been there for him, no matter what: Hardy and Ernest.

Grabbing his phone, Morgan scrolled through his contacts until he found Hardy's name. His thumb hovered over the call button for a moment. He hated feeling like this—helpless, lost. But if there was anyone who would understand, it was them.

With a deep breath, he pressed the call button. It rang twice before Hardy picked up.

"Morgan, man, what's up?" Hardy's familiar voice brought a small sense of relief.

Morgan swallowed hard, trying to find the words. "Hey, can you and Ernest come over? I... I need to talk to you guys."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Morgan could hear the concern in Hardy's voice when he replied. "Yeah, of course. We'll be there in twenty."

Morgan nodded, though Hardy couldn't see him. "Thanks, man."

He hung up and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as the weight of everything settled over him again. Hardy and Ernest had always been his go-to in times of trouble, but this was different. He wasn't sure if they could help him with something like this.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Morgan stood up and walked to the entrance, opening it to see Hardy and Ernest standing there, both wearing expressions of concern.

"Hey," Morgan said quietly, stepping aside to let them in.

They didn't waste any time with pleasantries. Hardy clapped Morgan on the back as he walked inside, while Ernest followed, his eyes scanning the house like he could sense something was off.

They made their way into the living room, where Jackson was still asleep. Morgan gestured toward the couch, and the three of them sat down, the silence between them heavy.

"So, what's going on?" Hardy asked, his voice careful but filled with concern.

Morgan stared at the floor, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He didn't know where to start. How could he explain what had happened? How could he admit that Georgie had left, that she was gone because she felt like she wasn't enough?

"She's gone," Morgan said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "Georgie... she left."

Hardy and Ernest exchanged a glance, their expressions shifting from concern to shock.

"What do you mean she left?" Ernest asked, his brow furrowed. "What happened?"

Morgan ran a hand through his hair, his chest tight as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "She's been struggling for a while now. With Jackson, with everything. I didn't realize how bad it was until... until it was too late."