Hannah.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her gaze raking over me.

"I'm sick," I lie. I stand in the doorway, refusing to let her inside.

She tilts her head. "You don't look sick."

"Well, I am." I shift on my feet.

"You haven't been answering any of my calls or texts."

"I've been sleeping a lot." I shrug. "Sorry." Guilt stabs my chest. There's no reason whatsoever for the way I'm treating her. I'm being unnecessarily ...