There’s a laugh deep in my gut, but I hold it in. I lean in close, stopping before our lips connect. “Hannah”—kiss—“that is”—kiss—“the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
She slaps a hand over her face and breaks into a fit of laughter.
“Iwas the one obsessed withyou.”
“Stop it,” she chuckles, the sound fading on a sigh. “You were not.”
Oh, she’s playing coy now. “Literally, I would have had sex with you in that matchbox on faulty axles if you’d said you wanted to, wildlife be damned.”
Hannah loses it, rolling onto her back, laugh bouncing off the ceiling. “But what about the bear cubs, Rowan? You said you cared about them.”
“I lied.”
Her brows lift to the heavens, feigning shock. “How am I supposed to believe anything you say now when this was all founded on lies? Lies, Rowan!”
I stretch my arm over her pillow and tap my shoulder. She comes immediately, head in the crook of my neck, leg hiked over my hip. “You know what to do, runaway.”
A satisfied hum coasts over my bare collarbone. “Tell me something real, soldier.”
“I’m glad we didn’t back then.”
She slides her fingers through my beard. “Why?”
I crane my neck to look at her. Warm eyes peer up at me, and I scanher face, cataloging every detail. The crease on her upper lip, the way her irises appear a little greener in the evening light.
Flashbacks of our night in the camper scroll through my mind—the effortless conversation, the sound of her laugh, the way my pinky fit around hers. The moment I realized I’d fallen. For her humor. Her heart. Her mind. I assumed then we would only have that one night together, but even if someone had told me for certain I’d never see her again, I’d still choose falling for Hannah James over a one-night stand with the runaway bride every time.
My lips trace her brow. “Because this is better.”
38
good, big, beautiful heart
Hannah
Shocker:Mom is ten minutes late.
We’ve spoken every day, but I haven’t seen her since she showed up to the VFW almost a week ago. She’s been reveling in her time with Richard while encouraging me to do the same with Rowan. Once she found out he’s leaving soon her insistence that we “have fun” only amplified.
Fun.
The kissing is fun. And the laughing is fun. My five-zero chess record against him is a pretty fun time, too.
But everything else? Not surefunis a sufficient word.
His careful hands that began as practice, have left me in a nearly constant state of need. His hand between my thighs on the bike yesterday and again last night, pressed up against the kitchen counter, and again this morning in bed before the sun came up. The whispered words of praise in my ear, the soft encouraging kisses he plants over my skin that make me feel safe, the intensity of his fingers that are neither dominant nor submissive but…gently claiming. All while never demanding reciprocation. I’ve not done enough good in this lifetime to deserve the level of patience he’s shown me.
No, it’s so much more thanfun. It’s healing.
When Mom steps into Jelly and Jam, all thoughts offuncome to a screeching halt.
Smile, Hannah. You knew this was coming and so did she.
Mom’s eyes are as alight as they always are, but I can’t reconcile them with her physical appearance. More weight, gone. Skin, pale. She’s out of breath but tries to hide it when she lowers into the booth.
I muster a plastic grin. “Hi, Mom.”
“Haddy girl.” She reaches for the menu as if we both haven’t memorized it cover to cover.