11. Hannah
HANNAH
We drive in silence to the farm. When we pull up the driveway, a light is on in the farmhouse, coming from Abby’s room. The boys will be asleep by now, and Rachel and Pops will be at least half an hour behind us.
But I don’t want to go there yet. There’s a dirt road that leads into the orchard, and I ask Grant to follow it. He drives slowly past the beehives until we reach the shadows of the trees.
He cuts the engine and we sit in darkness, the trees looming above us.
“Let’s walk.”
It’s a warm evening, and I get out of the car and walk further into the orchard. Grant follows me through the gate and into the line of trees.
I’ve always found it peaceful in the orchards, and tonight, I need some calm. Branches rustle in the breeze and insects chirp to each other. The branches cast long shadows on the ground, and the scent of ripe cherries is pungent in the evening air.
It’s cooler in here, and I only have a sweater on. Before I even realize I’m cold, Grant shrugs his coat off and places it around my shoulders.
It’s the closest he’s been to me since I came undone on his palm, and a different kind of shiver ripples down my body. I know what it feels like to have his hands on me, and I want that again. But for some reason, he doesn’t seem to.
I long to ask him about it, but this is the most intimate we’ve been since then, and I don’t want him to pull away. Instead I keep to safer ground.
“What did you make of the meeting?”
He still has his hand on my back, and I lean against it as we walk between the ancient trees.
“When people get the scent of money, it can be hard to let go. Whoever runs that company doesn’t care about the little people. They’re going to do whatever it takes to get this land, get whatever’s in the ground that they want, and get rich.”
His words make me shiver, and he misinterprets it.
“We should go in if you’re cold.”
He stops, and I turn to face him. In the moonlight, his expression is hard to read, but the semi-darkness makes me bold.
“I don’t want to go in.”
His face is inches from mine and I take a step closer, backing him up against a cherry tree.
“Hannah…” His voice has a plea to it that I don’t understand. But if he doesn’t want me, he’s going to have to tell me.
His back is to the tree trunk, and he has nowhere else to go. I step forward so my legs are between his. He slides his arms around my waist, and his gaze darts to my lips.
He holds me for a moment and I close my eyes, ready for the kiss. But instead he spins me around, and suddenly my back is against the tree and Grant is backing away.
“No.” It comes out with all the force of two days of frustration. “Don’t walk away from me, Grant. Tell me what’s going on.”
He gives me a pained look. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I shouldn’t have done that the other night. You were so damn sexy and you needed a release, and I thought I could give you what you need.”
“No, Grant, I needed you. That’s what I needed.”
We stand staring at each other, my confession hanging on the air. It’s the first time I’ve voiced it out loud. It’s the first time I’ve admitted it to myself. I want Grant, and it hurts that he’s holding back. Tears threaten my eyes and I blink them back, but not before Grant sees them.
“Hey, don’t cry.” He reaches for me, and I bat his hand away.
“How am I meant to not get upset when you’re toying with my emotions?”
He goes still. “I’m sorry, Hannah. It’s not what I meant to do.”
He sounds genuine, and there’s hurt in his expression. He runs a hand down his face and lets out a long agonized sigh.
There’s a bench under the next tree and Grant crosses to it and sits down. “You’re right, you deserve an explanation.”
He beckons me to sit next to him and I cross to where he is but remain standing, my arms folded across my chest. This had better be good, or I’m walking away and not looking back.
“I lost someone on my last mission.”
The air goes out of my lungs and with it all the anger. This isn’t about me at all. Feeling like an ass, I sink into the seat next to him. “I’m sorry.”
“His name was Mason. He was young, only twenty-three. He’d just gotten married and had a baby.” His voice quavers. “Mason and Kent were in the sniper hide when a grenade was thrown in. They dived in different directions, and Mason got pinned under rubble.”
I cover my mouth. We don’t often hear the realities of war, of fighting that happens in other countries far away.
“I was the only operative in the vicinity. I neutralized the threat and called for backup, but every second counts when someone’s injured.”
Grant looks into the distance at the end of the orchard as if he’s reliving the experience.
“I was a street away and couldn’t see them. Mason was on the radio, but there was nothing from Kent. He’d been thrown into the street in the opposite direction of Mason.”
“I had to decide which one to go to. Mason’s legs were pinned, but he said he was okay. He even joked about being sent home. I followed my training, went to the unresponsive man, administered first aid, and only then went to Mason.”
He puts his head in his hands. “I should have picked up on the cues. Mason was delirious and in shock. I missed the signs, and by the time I got to him he was gone. He bled out in the dust.”
Grant sits back on the seat, and his hands ball into fists. “If I’d recognized the signs and gone to Mason first, he’d still be alive.”
For the first time, Grant’s completely unguarded.
I see the man he hides from me, the anguish and guilt written in his expression.
I take his hand in mine and his fingers relax.
All this time, I thought it was something I was doing wrong, but he’s been carrying this around on his own.
I squeeze his hand, letting him know I’m here, ready to support him in any way he needs.
“That’s why you’re so vigilant.”
I thought Grant was observant because of his job, but he’s terrified of missing something, of making a wrong decision.
“If I hadn’t missed the cues, his widow would have someone to love and his son would have a father.”
Grant slides his hands from mine and sinks his head into his hands, overcome by grief or guilt.
“So you see, Hannah, it’s not fair. It’s not right that I should be in love and happy when that family was torn apart.”
I sit still. He said the love word, and that should make me happy, but as I watch Grant, racked with guilt, it only makes me sad.
“You can’t put your life on hold because of what happened. Mason knew the risks when he signed up, and so did his widow.”
Grant shakes his head. “Every time I get close to happiness, like when you were in my arms the other night, I think of Mason and how much I don’t deserve it.”
Now I know why he pulled back in the kitchen. It has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with him. But the knowledge doesn’t make me feel any better. Grant’s hurting, and I wish there was something I could do to make it better.
I do what Granny used to do to me when I was sad. I rub his back in slow soothing circles and let him talk.
“I failed to protect him. I was the senior operative on the mission, and I failed to keep my men safe. I got to come home and Mason didn’t. Camila didn’t get her husband back, and every good thing I let myself have since then feels like I’m spending something that isn’t mine.”
He stands up suddenly, shaking my hand off his back. I want to comfort him, but it’s another rejection. He doesn’t think he even deserves this kindness.
“Do you think that’s how he wants to be honored? By you being miserable? I bet this isn’t what Mason would want or his widow either.”
I stand up, but Grant won’t look at me. He’s staring at the end of the orchard, his heart still with the man who died in a faraway land. My hand reaches out to touch him, but before I do he speaks.
“Once this land grab is over, and I’m sure you’re safe, I’ll leave Hope.”
“What?” My stomach drops, and my hand drops to my side.
“It’s better if I go and give you a chance at happiness.”
It’s as if I’ve been punched in the stomach. Grant doesn’t even want to work this out. He’d rather wallow in his guilt.
“You’re not choosing between honoring him and having happiness.” My voice is quiet and steadier than I feel. “You’ve just decided punishing yourself is the only tribute that counts. Because punishing yourself is easier than forgiving yourself.”
I stand for a moment staring at Grant’s back, the strong broad shoulders that carry a heavy weight, one he’s not willing to shrug off. He’d rather live in guilt than try for a chance at happiness for me.
He doesn’t turn around.
I swipe the tears from my eyes as I leave him alone in the orchard. I knew better than to get close to someone. I’m losing Grant the way I always lose those that I love. Because yeah, I love the big silent brute. And him opening up to me just makes those feelings stronger.
Sadness weighs me down as I push open the door to the farmhouse. This has played out exactly how I feared it would. I finally let myself be chosen, opened myself to love, and he’s leaving, like everyone does.
The kitchen is silent and smells like pastry, but baking isn’t going to make me feel any better. I take the stairs two at a time, just reaching my bedroom before the tears flow.