The Perfect Secret

Chapter Twenty-Six

He should have left the moment he heard Hannah’s name.

He’d imagined her everywhere. When he’d walked in and thought he saw her sitting in the audience, he’d attributed it to an overactive imagination, grabbed a cup of coffee, and sat in the back row.

Now, face-to-face with her, he wondered how he could ever have imagined he saw her anywhere. Her hair was more luxurious, her eyes brighter, her skin more luminescent than anyone he’d mistaken for her. And she was as surprised as he was.

Her eyes didn’t glow with happiness at seeing him. They didn’t sparkle with excitement. They were wide with shock.

He suspected they mirrored his own.

When Jeff celebrated his year of being clean, Dan didn’t think anything of it. He still didn’t know people’s last names. But when he’d thanked his sister, Hannah, Dan had inhaled with such sharpness he’d choked. Still, he’d convinced himself it was a coincidence. When he’d turned away from the coffeepot and almost banged into her, he lost his equilibrium. Thank goodness for his cane, because without it, he’d be flat on the floor.

Only now, seeing her in this room, did he fully make the connection.

She was here. In this room. With him.

He wanted to grab her in his arms and never let her go. He wanted to apologize for being an ass. All he could do was stare, because she was here. So was he.

His joy at seeing her slowly evaporated.

She was here for her brother. He was here for himself. If she hadn’t already figured it out, she would in a moment. Any dream of a future with her he might have clung to would disappear. She already had a drug addict for a brother. Why would she want a second one in her life?

He swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in his throat. She didn’t move. She shut her eyes. She knew.

Unable to stand it a moment longer, he swung around and left the room.

For a moment, the room spun and Hannah shut her eyes. When she opened them, Dan was gone. She turned, caught a fleeting glimpse of grey hair out in the hallway, heard the faint tap of his cane on the linoleum floor. Why was he here?

“Hannah, are you okay? Sit down, Hannahla, you look pale.” Bubbe helped her to a seat, and she followed without seeing anything. Dan was here.

“What’s wrong?” Her grandmother took her icy hand and rubbed it.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Swallowing, she tried again. “I think I saw Dan.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He’d stared at her like he’d seen a ghost. Once again, he hadn’t said anything to her.

Her grandmother left, returning a moment later with a cup of water and Jeff. “Drink this.” Without waiting for Hannah to say anything, her grandmother described Dan and asked if Jeff knew him.

“Not personally, but I’ve seen him at meetings. He’s pretty new.”

Dan came to NA meetings?

“Why does he come?” Hannah asked.

Jeff looked at her. “I can’t tell you what goes on here, Hannah. I’m sorry. The only reason you’re allowed here tonight is it’s a public meeting. Most are private.”

“The only people who come here are drug addicts, right?” She bit her lip. She couldn’t think clearly enough to be tactful.

He sat next to her and took her hand. “Yes. Do you know him?”

Her eyes filled with tears and she looked at her grandmother.

“He was her boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry, Han. You didn’t know he was an addict?”

She shook her head. In the back of her mind, little things fell into place. He never drank. He never took anything for pain. And there was Tess and her outburst. All of a sudden everything she’d ignored made sense.

Her hands shook with rage. He’d known her feelings about her brother and never told her. She’d asked why he didn’t drink or take pain meds and he’d changed the subject. He’d lied to her.

“Hannah, I’m sorry,” Jeff said.

His gaze reflected sympathy and understanding. Blinking, she took a deep breath. This was Jeff’s night. She wouldn’t ruin it. With a wobbly smile, she stood and squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry about it. We should go celebrate, shouldn’t we, Bubbe?”

“You’re right. Jeff, where do you want to go?”

“How about the diner across the street? They have great desserts, and I think Hannah could use a sweet treat right about now.”

The three of them left the church and entered the diner. Warmth blasted them when they opened the door. As they passed the cash register, Jeff handed the woman across the counter a five-dollar bill. She nodded, and put it in a jar.

“What’s that for?” Hannah asked.

He shrugged. “Just a tradition we have here.”

At the table, they picked up the heavy vinyl menus. Hannah’s mind churned.

“Hannah, are you ready to order?” She started as she heard her name. The waitress stood next to her, pen poised over her pad.

“Oh, ah, I’ll have a cheeseburger, medium.” Her grandmother and Jeff frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jeff said. “It’s just that we ordered desserts. But if you’re hungry…”

“Oh, no, I’ll have chocolate mousse pie instead.”

The waitress left. Hannah stared into space.

“So, Han, how’s your new job?”

“It’s good…” She’d been there about six weeks. Dan knew nothing about it. Dan knew nothing about anything in her life. Dan had lied to her. Her eyes filled. She felt pressure on her arm. Her grandmother’s bony fingers gripped her elbow.

“Hannah, honey, go to him.”

“No. We’re eating. Besides, I want nothing to do with a liar.”

“When did he lie to you, Hannahla?”

“So many times, Bubbe.” Mostly by omission, but he’d had plenty of opportunities to tell her.

“Maybe he had a good reason.”

“Doesn’t matter what his reason was.” All those times she’d talked to him about Jeff and he’d never said anything.

“I’ve heard him in the couple of meetings we both attended, Hannah. You need to talk to him.”

“I’m not the one who has to talk. He’s in meetings! He never said anything to me, and believe me, I gave him plenty of opportunities.”

Jeff blew out a breath and took Hannah’s flailing hands. “Look, I don’t know him well, but he seems like a pretty earnest guy who’s trying to do the right thing. Don’t waste time on who should be the one to initiate the conversation. Just have the conversation.”

She straightened her shoulders. Her brother was right. She and Dan had avoided this conversation for too long. It was time to face him. She rose. “Maybe. Do you mind if I go now? I don’t want to ruin your celebration, but I have something I need to do.”

She hailed a cab and took it to Dan’s apartment, rehearsing the entire ride what to say. Should she speak first or ask questions or let him start? Anger, hurt, confusion warred within her, drowned out the hint of hope she’d felt when she stood in front of him. Before she’d formulated what she’d say, the cab pulled up in front of his apartment. The doorman recognized her and let her in without calling upstairs. Outside his door, she paused. Taking a deep breath, she knocked. Tess opened the door.

“Hannah!” The girl gave her a bone-cracking hug.

Despite her anger, Hannah smiled. “Hey, Tess. I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Wait, what are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to your dad.”

Tess’s face brightened. “Are you two getting back together?”

Hannah shook her head. “No, sweetie. But I need to talk to him. Is he here?”

“He went to a meeting and he’s not back yet.”

Hannah paused. The meeting ended an hour ago. Disappointment flooded her. She’d finally gotten up the courage to confront him, and now she’d have to wait for another time.

“Do you want me to have him call you?” Her face was eager.

“No, I’ll try him another time.” She wouldn’t involve Tess in this. “It was good to see you, though, Tess.”

“You too, Hannah. I miss you.”

She gave Tess a hug. “I miss you too.” With a sigh, she left.

Outside of her apartment, she searched her purse for her keys. As the cab pulled away, she looked up and dropped her purse.

Dan stood on the sidewalk under a streetlamp outside her building.

The evening chill did nothing to prevent sweat from dotting his brow. Cold brick dug into his back through his wool coat and his leg stiffened as he stood outside and waited for her.

Leaving the meeting without talking to Hannah was the latest in an endless string of acts of cowardice, which began with his addiction and ended with leaving the meeting. But his cowardice would end, because tonight he would tell Hannah everything.

He’d never been so scared in his life. Well, maybe that one time with Tess.

He’d started to shake when Sylvia and Jeff got out of a cab, but calmed down when he realized Hannah wasn’t there. His heart dropped to his toes. He’d frozen against the wall, unsure of what to do next.

“She went to your apartment,” Jeff said, after he told his grandmother to go inside.

“What?”

“You’re Dan? She went to your apartment.”

“But I’m not there.” His reactions were slow and he wanted to smack himself upside the head for his stupid response.

“Clearly.” Jeff smiled. “She’ll be back.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Probably the smartest decision you’ve made, other than coming to a meeting.”

“She’ll never forgive me.”

“I used to think that too.”

Dan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. A pat on the arm made him open them again. He was alone on the sidewalk.

Now, Hannah stood in front of him, the streetlight turning her hair a beautiful deep red color his fingers ached to touch.

Her purse dropped onto the pavement. He stepped forward to help.

“Don’t.”

He froze. She was pale and her breath made white puffs in front of her. His ice queen was beautiful.

His hands shook and he fisted one at his side, the other around his cane, as he nodded toward her bag. “You going to pick it up?”

“Go to hell.”

They both jerked. It was only the surprise on Hannah’s face that kept Dan from turning around and walking away.

“I’m already there.”

Hannah bent to pick up her purse. Her hair fell forward, curtaining her face from his view. Her narrow shoulders shook.

He groaned. “Please, Hannah, can we talk?”

She rose. “Why?”

“Because I owe you…so much…but at the very least an explanation.”

“You owe me more than that.”

Her response took his breath away. He gasped. “I know.”

Folding her arms across her chest, she tapped her foot, her face set in a glare. “You never wanted to talk before.”

With a look up and down the sidewalk, he motioned to a nearby bench. “Will you sit with me?”

She followed him to the bench and sat on one end, as far from him as possible without landing on the ground. He didn’t try to move closer. Resting his cane against the side of the icy bench, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands hanging limp. It was better she sat far away. He couldn’t bear to see the condemnation in her expression.

“It was raining that day when the three of us went out. We were running errands. Tess was singing in the backseat.” He paused, a brief smile tugging at his lips as he remembered her little-girl voice. “Beth was rummaging in her purse, looking for something to record Tess. The light turned green. I pulled into the intersection.” He swallowed, his palms slick with sweat as he rubbed them on his thighs. “The car never slowed.” Was there a squeal? Or was it his imagination now? “It hit the front passenger side head-on.” He remembered the sound of metal screeching as it bent, the odor of burnt rubber, the excruciating pain. “She died instantly.” He took a deep gulp of air, trying to ease the ache in his chest as cold sweat trickled down his back.

“I was hospitalized for weeks. My leg was shattered. The pain was unbearable.” His drug-induced haze was filled with psychedelic nightmares, made worse when he came out of it and learned the truth. “They gave me oxy when they discharged me, enough for ten days. Afterwards, I was supposed to move to over-the-counter drugs. For whatever reason, I couldn’t.” He hadn’t been able to do anything—breathing had overwhelmed him. “I’m sure it had a lot to do with losing my wife and becoming a single father overnight. That’s not me trying to excuse anything; I’m stating what I’ve learned. Anyway, I became addicted to it.”

He looked at the cracked, dirty sidewalk, across the street at the lit-up lobby of the apartment building, anywhere but at Hannah. His mouth dried and he licked his lips.

“I’d found a way to get it illegally. One day, I was down to my last pill. I’d never make it through the rest of the day without it. Tess was watching TV. She was seven years old and I left without telling her where I was going. I was gone maybe forty minutes, but during that time, some guys who were connected to my pusher broke into my apartment. They knew I had money and they stole a bunch of stuff. But Tess…Tess was there.” His voice cracked. Even now, years later, he couldn’t tell this story without reliving the horror.

“She’d hidden under the bed. When I found her, I lost it. I cried in front of her. I’d never cried before, not even when Beth died. I promised her I’d never take another drug again. And I didn’t.” He tried to breathe but his lungs wouldn’t expand. “Not even ibuprofen. I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t think I deserved anything other than punishment. So I went cold turkey. I sent Tess to stay with Lexi for a few days and I went through withdrawal on my own.” Hannah made some sort of sound, but he couldn’t look at her. He pushed on, his head pounding.

“I fought my addiction by being in rigid control of everything I did—no alcohol, nothing I liked too much, like chocolate. I wouldn’t allow any kind of drug in the house unless it was medicine Tess needed, and even then, I hated having it in the house. If my leg hurt, I either ignored it, or I worked on puzzles to distract me. I thought I’d beaten it.” He paced in front of the bench. His leg ached in the cold. It was nothing compared to the ache in his chest.

“Before I met you, it was like I was dead inside. Oh, I was pretty good at faking it for Tess’s sake, but deep down, I was numb. With you, I started to feel again. I wanted you to be a part of my life, to know everything. But you told me about your brother and I knew I could never tell you my secret. You already had one addict in your family. The last thing you needed was another one.”

She squeaked, but he ignored her. If he stopped now, he’d never get it all out. “I counted the minutes until I could see you again. I wasn’t happy unless I was with you. I couldn’t breathe. I thought I’d become addicted to you, so I needed to let you go.”

He angled toward her, still not looking at her. He couldn’t have seen her anyway through unshed tears. “I pulled away from you. I thought it was best for you and for me, but without you I was miserable. I wanted to talk to you, but how could I do that? I saw that what I was doing was hurting Tess. I’d vowed I’d never hurt her again, and I’d done it without realizing it. So I went to NA. Or at least, I tried.”

He sat again and rubbed his knee. He didn’t know if it hurt. Everything was painful. “The first time I went, I couldn’t make myself go inside. But eventually, I was able to. I learned how my addiction worked and what was okay or not okay to do. But it was meaningless. Because I’d lost you. I have lost you. You already have one addict in your family. I know how much he hurt you. And I hurt you too. I’m sorry.”

He had nothing else to say. His hands shook and he clasped them together. He couldn’t meet her gaze. The silence between them stretched like the taut string of a guitar. The only thing he could hear was the rushing of his blood in his veins. His breathing came in short gasps, like he’d run a marathon.

She grasped his clenched hands. Her skin was smooth and cool, and he couldn’t figure out why she touched him. Within the surety of her grip, his trembling ceased. He risked a glance. Despite his expectations, there was no horror, no condemnation, no anger. Only compassion.

He bowed his head until it touched her arms and those short gasps transformed into long, shuddering gulps of air. Pressure on the back of his head made him pause. He realized with wonder it was her lips. If he moved, he’d break contact with her and she might never touch him again. He was a selfish bastard. The thought of space between them was enough to keep him motionless. All too soon, the chill air ruffled the back of his neck, she released his hands and she pulled away. He gripped her hands again, needing to maintain at least some contact, and raised his head. His head pounded and his chest ached.

Confessing was supposed to make him feel better.

“You’re right,” she said. “You don’t deserve me.”

He blinked. Deep, deep down, surrounded by doubts and self-loathing, when she didn’t run away, there was a tiny spark of hope that maybe she’d forgive him. Tell him all wasn’t lost. Remind him she loved him. Now the spark of hope died.

He pulled his hands away and rose, gripping his cane as much to transfer the pain as for support. “I hope you can find happiness again with someone who deserves you.”

She sputtered. “So, that’s it? You’re leaving me again?”

He took in her beautiful angry face. “Again?”

She rolled her eyes. “I swear he wasn’t a moron when I first met him,” she muttered. “You left me. You just came back. And you’re leaving again.”

“Why would you want me to stay? I’ve lost you.”

“You lost me? I’m not some toy you forget about only to find again one day. I’m a living, breathing person. Someone I thought you cared about. Someone you said you cared about. I’ve never been lost. It’s you who keep throwing me away.”

Now he was the one who was lost. “Can we sit down for a minute? Because I’m confused.”

She joined him on the bench. He’d give anything to touch her one last time, but it would be cruel to both of them.

“Okay, if you wouldn’t mind, start over,” he said. “You told me I’m right. I don’t deserve you. So why are you mad I’m leaving?”

“Because you’re wrong!”

Numbers. Numbers made sense. Hannah, however, wasn’t a number. She was a sexy-as-hell woman he would die to be with. He frowned, eliciting a groan from her.

“You’re right about hurting me, not losing me, you idiot.”

Hurting this beautiful woman should not have made him happy, but it took all his effort not to jump up and laugh. From the expression on her face, even a small smile would endanger him, though, so he bit the inside of his cheek, took a deep breath and focused. The urge to laugh or smile disappeared. “I’m sorry.”

“That doesn’t make what you did any better. You listened to me when I was upset about Jeff and my job and my grandmother, yet when I could have listened to you, maybe helped you, you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.”

His jaw dropped. “It had nothing to do with trust, Hannah.”

“Oh really? How do you figure?”

“I knew how upset you were about your brother. For you to find out I was no different than him? I couldn’t do it to you, no matter how many times I told myself I should. It’s a numbers thing. It didn’t add up.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed. “Your brother is an addict. He upset you. I’m an addict. It’s numbers.”

She grasped his bicep. “No, it isn’t. Numbers are black and white. All addicts are not the same. You weren’t some heroin junkie standing on a street corner who stole from people to get your fix. You didn’t trust I’d recognize the difference. Instead, you lied to me by withholding information and deciding about us by yourself.”

Dropping his head, he ran his hands across the back of his neck. “Hell, Hannah, I didn’t even recognize the difference until a little while ago. It was never a matter of trusting you. It was coming to terms with who I am. I didn’t trust me.”

“You need to see the shades of gray. I get you didn’t want me to think you were like Jeff, but I need you to believe I can see who you are. Who I see is a brave man who made a huge mistake, but did everything possible afterwards to protect his daughter.”

He couldn’t speak. His throat was thick, his eyelids were heavy, his lungs didn’t work.

“I need to know you understand the difference between needing a drug and needing a person. Because they’re not the same thing, and if you try to get rid of me every time you think you’re too close, all you’ll do is hurt me.”

Taking a deep breath, he avoided her gaze. “I’m working on learning the difference.” He paused. The air around him was cold, but his nerves made him feel feverish. “I’m used to battling this on my own, to figuring out the signs I need to look out for. Sometimes, those signs get confusing.”

“You don’t have to do this alone.”

How could she be this understanding? “I have a knee-jerk reaction to protect myself and Tess. It feels right for me to suffer. Maybe I don’t deserve anything else.”

She took his face in hers. “You deserve to be loved.”

“How can you say that after everything I’ve done to you?” After everything he’d done to Tess.

She gave a strangled laugh. “Because of those shades of gray. I’m still angry and hurt, but I can see how hard you’re trying. If you’ll try as hard with me, maybe we can work through this.”

He wanted to pull her close, to kiss her and never let go. But he recognized the fragility of their connection right now. He remained where he was, but moved so his hands held hers. “How do I fix this?”

“You give me time and you stop assuming you have the answers to everything. You stop trying to save me from you—I can save myself.”

“So I should leave you alone?”

She grabbed the nape of his neck and pulled him forward until their foreheads touched. “Not unless I tell you to. You support me and you let me support you. I don’t need a savior, I need a partner.”

He inhaled her scent, letting the silky strands of her hair caress the sides of his face. She stroked his cheek. He wanted to do more, but he wouldn’t push his luck. However, he couldn’t resist one question. “Can we be kissing partners?”

She huffed against him, her breath tickling the skin above his lip. Drawing away, she looked at him solemnly. “Yes.”

As he leaned in and met her lips with his, the coiled tension in his shoulders loosened. She didn’t yet forgive him. It would be even longer before he forgave himself, but it was a start.