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Chapter 24

Calling Liz feels almost impossible. My hands are shaking, and my stomach is a knot of nerves. I've been wanting to dial her since I realized Harry was gone, but I couldn't bear the idea of dragging her into my mess this early.

Still, when the clock finally ticks past ten, I cave.

She picks up on the third ring. "Hello?"

"He... he left, Liz," I whisper, my throat tightening, tears already welling.

"Who left? Anzee?" she asks, instantly alarmed.

"No. Harry." My voice cracks. "He left this morning. Didn't say goodbye. His phone's off."

I hear shuffling and what I assume is the rustle of covers. Then her voice again, clearer now.

"No, go back to sleep, baby, I'll take this in the living room," she says—to Niall, probably—and I feel an immediate pang of envy. That calm, cozy intimacy they share... Why can't I have that?

Because of me. That's why.

"Wait a minute, Ash. Stay on the line," she says gently, moving to another room. I start pacing, phone pressed tightly to my ear, doing breathing techniques like I teach my students. In for four, out for four. I feel ridiculous, like a teenager panicking after a sleepover. But this—he—wasn't supposed to vanish.

"Sweetheart," she says at last, her tone calm and steady, "let me get this straight."

"Harry asked me for your address last night. Said he wanted to apologise for his mum's behaviour. He looked pretty upset. I felt sorry for him. Please tell me I didn't make a mistake by giving it to him..."

"Liz... I'm listening," I whisper.

"Did he come over?"

"Yes."

"Did you talk? Did he apologise?"

"Yes."

"Did anything else happen?"

"Yes."

"Sweetie, you're going to have to give me more than one-word answers if you want help. What happened?" Her voice is soft, cautious now.

I take a breath. "We talked... and we... we slept together."

There's a pause.

"Okay..." she says carefully. "And he left? Did you two argue?"

"No. We didn't fight."

"Was the sex... bad?"

"Liiiiz," I groan.

"What? I'd walk if the sex was bad," she replies matter-of-factly.

"It was... wonderful," I whisper. A tear finally spills over. "He was kind, and sweet, and I thought we were finally—"

"Okay. What did he say when he left?"

"He didn't. He left while I was sleeping."

"How many times have you called him?"

"Twice."

"Shit, Ashley!"

"What did I do?!"

"He might've just gone home. His mother is in town—he left her last night to come see you. He probably didn't want to bump into Anzette in the morning. Maybe his phone's dead. Maybe he passed out. You've got to give the guy a chance!"

"You think so?"

"It's ten in the morning. You're spiralling and the poor boy's probably asleep or explaining to his mom why he vanished into the night."