Nothing Good Gets Away

Chapter 76

HARRY STYLES

Four Months Ago

"Harry, wake up," Rowan shakes my shoulder with a decent force until I'm able to pry my eyes open. "Wake up, it's an emergency."

"What? What's going on?" My voice is barely audible as I roll over to face her and quickly rub at my eyelids. "Is it the baby?"

"Yes," she whines slightly. "It needs ice cream."

Even though I'm just laying there, I'm breathing heavily as a result of my pounding heart from being woken up so suddenly. "Fucking hell, Rowan."

"I'm sorry," she giggles and places her hands on my chest. "I can't sleep and I can't stop thinking about Chunky Monkey."

"Mhm," I run both hands down my face. "Okay, I'll go get it."

"Are you sure? I feel terrible."

Through the dark, I squint at her with one eye open. "Well, surely you don't feel that bad. You woke me up for it."

She laughs again. "I love you so much."

"I hope so," I'm late to reciprocate her kiss when I didn't see it coming with my eyes closed.

"Also, get anything with peanut butter," she tells me as I pull the duvet back to get out of bed. "Any ice cream with peanut butter, I mean. But only Ben & Jerry's."

"Ben & Jerry's, peanut butter, got it," I yawn and give my eyes a last good rub before I force them to stay open.

"And Chunky Monkey," she reminds me, "please, whatever you do, do not forget the Chunky Monkey."

"I got it, babe," I tug a hoodie over my bare chest and step halfway into my Vans, shuffling over to her side of the bed to lean over for a proper kiss. "I'll be quick."

"K," she stays smiling and warm in bed with her fingers laced together on her bump, patiently waiting with her toes wiggling under the duvet. I laugh to myself on my way out of the room, humming out a tired sigh as I make it downstairs.

Scout whimpers as he yawns and stretches while rising to his feet, his paws padding on the hardwood floor as he makes his way over to me. I pet his head and grab my keys by the door to head out, only backtracking when I realize I forgot to lock Rowan inside the house.

As I shut myself in the car and ignite the engine to get it warmed up, I shiver in the early December cold and see the time on the dashboard. 3:12 AM. All I can do is laugh as I yank the shift into reverse and pull out of the driveway.

I already know exactly where I'm going, and I have a feeling whoever's working at the station won't be surprised to see me. I only show up here at least four times a week, exclusively between one and five o'clock in the morning.

I see a couple of cars on my way there, but I'm the only one parked in front of the petrol station as I kill the engine and step out again. The bell above the door chimes as I let myself in, and the older woman behind the counter smirks at the sight of me. If it's not her, it's usually a younger man, or an older one working the overnight shift.

"Morning," she says to me, sipping from a coffee cup.

"Morning," I nod, feeling delusional in the flickering fluorescent lights on my way to the frozen dessert section on the back wall.

I pick out two pints of Chunky Monkey, one Cherry Garcia, Peanut Butter Cup, and Half Baked, plus a few bags of Rowan's favorite crisps when I know she'll be craving something salty soon after indulging in the ice cream. We have plenty of salty snacks at home, but she won't want one of those. She never does.