Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
HANNAH GRACE
“ I checked all the windows from the outside. They’re all locked up,” Zach says, walking through the back door into the kitchen.
“I really do think I left the window open the other day. It was a nice night and I just wanted some fresh air to help me fall asleep,” I tell him and pass him a beer from the fridge.
“You shouldn’t be sleeping with your window open. You live in a one-story house. Anyone?—”
“I live in a nice neighborhood. Nothing bad ever happens here.” I take my own beer and head to the living room to wait for the pizza I ordered when Zach first got here.
“It only takes once, HG.”
“It’s never happened in Mistletoe Creek.”
My small hometown is about three hours from Nashville, but it might as well be on a different planet. Nothing ever happens there—unless three older women living in the town and matchmaking the younger generations counts. There’s a reason I didn’t move home after college despite the many requests from my parents and younger sister, Laura Leigh.
“You don’t live there anymore. This is the big city. No more opening your windows at night.”
My hackles rise with the directive.
“Zach, thank you for caring and for checking things out. But you of all people ought to realize that no one tells me what to do. If I want to sleep with my window open, that’s a risk that I’m willing to take.”
“But—”
“Now, let’s pick a movie and wait for the pizza,” I say, changing the subject.
I like Zach. As my friend. But every once in a while he gets too bossy and forgets that no one tells me what to do anymore.
He opens his mouth before he closes it again and shakes his head with a sigh.
“What do you want to watch?” he asks.
I shoot him a smile for going along with my change of subject.
“I picked last time. You pick.”
“I’m not picking anything on Hallmark,” he warns.
I laugh and a smile curves his lips upward.
“I didn’t figure you would. That’s my go-to.”
“Exactly.”
We settle onto the couch and I take a sip of my beer while he scrolls through my streaming services and finds the movie he wants.
“ Scream ?” I ask and my fingers go numb around my bottle.
I hate horror movies. My overactive imagination works triple time after watching one. Forget sleeping with the window open or not; tonight I’ll be sleeping with every light in my house on.
“This one’s not so bad. Unless you want to watch The Conjuring or Annabelle ?”
“No!” The sound is louder in my little living room than I planned and I wince.
I’ve seen previews for both of them and given that Mama still collects porcelain dolls, Annabelle is out.
He hits the button to play the movie and I resign myself to curl into the corner of my couch and hide behind my hands when necessary. Zach chuckles and scoots into the middle of the couch, allowing me to dig my toes under his thigh.
“I’ll hold your hand at the scary parts,” he promises.
“Just be prepared to hold it the entire time,” I mumble.
He reaches over, palm up, and I grip his hand like a lifeline.
“The more you watch these, the less scared you’ll be,” he says.
“So you keep saying. But if watching all four of the first ones didn’t desensitize me, I don’t think anything will.”
The words are out of my mouth faster than the memory can surface.
I had watched all four of them—or pieces of them anyway.
Maybe it would have helped if we had watched versus making out off and on for the eight plus hours of movies.
“You never told me that.” He pauses the movie to study me.
I shrug and attempt to ignore the memory that wants to pull me deeper under. It’s been a long time since I thought of Cole Strickland. I wasn’t going to let myself start now.
“It was a long time ago.”
“With whom?”
“Nobody important,” I say and stand up. “Do you want another beer?”
He lifts his bottle from the table and drains the rest of it before handing me the empty.
“Sure.”
“You can unpause it,” I tell him.
I don’t mind missing any of the scary movie.
“You’ll miss something if I do,” he calls after me.
I open the two bottles and walk back into the living room where the movie is still paused on the opening scene.
“Here.” I hand him his beer and flop down onto the couch, being careful not to spill my own.
He unpauses the movie and I keep my focus on the screen, using the horror unfolding to push out the memories now that the lid to that Pandora’s box has been opened.
This is what happens. Over the last four years since we broke up, it’s become a familiar pattern. Something random will remind me of Cole—in this case, a horror movie—and I’ll spend the next few weeks with him more on my mind until he fades back into my past.
My second beer sits untouched on the coffee table, and despite my inner turmoil, I’m into the movie enough to hide my face against Zach’s shirt during the gorier parts. Definitely will be sleeping with all the lights on tonight.
We’re maybe thirty minutes in—and it’s one of those parts—when there’s a knock on my door. Grabbing my remote, I pause the movie and release the breath I’ve been holding.
“Pizza’s here!” I crow and jump up from the couch.
“Saved by the knock?” he jokes.
I’m still giggling when I open the door.
Only it’s not the delivery person standing there holding my pizza. Not unless my ex-boyfriend became a pizza delivery person in the last four years.
“Hello, Hannah Grace.” His voice still holds that same smooth cadence I used to love.
Without a word, I slam the door, turning around to lean against the thick wood.
“Who was that?” Zach asks, standing up from the couch.
A knock sounds on the door, reverberating behind my ear.
“Nobody.”
“Was Nobody holding our pizza?”
Shit. Damn. Fuck.
I forgot to grab the pizza out of his hands.
Spinning, I wrench open the door and snatch the box and try to shove the door closed again. Only it doesn’t work since he wedges himself inside before I can close the door.
“Who the fuck are you?” Zach’s fists clench and he moves closer to me.
“Who the fuck are you?” Cole repeats and only arches an eyebrow.
His voice maintains the calm cadence. It’s irritating how peaceful he is right now. Meanwhile I’m a train wreck of sensations—anger, sadness, frustration, curiosity, regret. They all circle my brain vying for the prime spot now that my ex has resurfaced after all this time.
Why?
“Get out, Cole.” My words are quiet, but given how silent the room is, he can hear them.
“You know this guy?” Zach jumps in, crossing his arms over his chest and standing straight.
Cole’s natural posture doesn’t change.
“I can’t.” He ignores Zach’s question and keeps his focus on me.
“This is my ex. One who isn’t welcome here,” I tell Zach.
If I wasn’t studying Cole so closely I would have missed the flash of hurt on his face. But he has no reason to hurt. He’s the one who broke up with me and fell off the face of the earth. Not the other way around.
“You heard her. You need to leave. Or do you need help with that?”
Cole spares Zach a fleeting look before refocusing that warm, brown gaze on me.
“Aren’t you even curious why I’m here?”
No. The word is on the tip of my tongue, but something holds it back.
Because it would be a lie .
I am curious why he’s deciding to reemerge after all this time. But I won’t give him the satisfaction of telling him that.
“I’m going to take my pizza into the kitchen, and I want you gone by the time I come back,” I say.
It’s nearly impossible to walk away without a second glance. To catalog all the differences the years have made since I saw him last—a month before he deployed for the last time. But I manage to not turn around.
Setting the pizza on the counter, I’m no longer hungry. Instead, I move to the window above the kitchen sink and stare into the dark backyard.
“Hannah Grace, I need to talk to you.”
He’s backlit by the lights in the living room, only the shadow of a reflection. And even though the ten-foot width of the room separates us, my body remembers him.
“I have nothing to say to you.” I spin around, taking a deep breath and holding on to the edge of the sink to keep myself from running toward him.
Movement catches my attention behind Cole, where Zach stands directly behind him.
“I told you she didn’t want to talk to you.”
“Look, I can appreciate you sticking up for Hannah Grace, but this is between her and me.” He cranes his head over his shoulder to look at Zach before turning his attention back to me. “Five minutes. The pageant people sent me.”
Well, fuck.
Just like that, all my adrenaline rushes out like the breath I exhale.
“The pageant people sent you ?”
The universe has a twisted sense of humor.
“Can I talk to you alone?” He moves closer.
I attempt to retreat, but am blocked by the solid mass of my kitchen counter.
“We can talk in front of Zach.”
A witness will be good. Especially one with as much hostility as Zach is leveling Cole’s direction.
He sighs and scrubs a hand down his face, highlighting the scruff of a five o’clock shadow. He’d been clean-shaven the last time I saw him.
He’s dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, his leather jacket beat up and scarred from years of wear.
When did he get that?
It’s an odd realization. His life has moved on just like mine has. A small part of me thought of him as frozen in time, getting into the truck that last time for his brother to take him back to Knoxville to the airport before his last deployment. Before we broke up.
But he’s no more the same twenty-one-year-old kid than I am. We’re both older.
Wiser.
“Well?” The word comes out snarkier than I intend.
Good .
“Why don’t we go sit down?”
Southern manners kick in before I can stop them. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
His stomach growls in response, and the right side of his mouth quirks in a smile full of self-deprecation.
“I’d appreciate something to eat. That little snack pack on the plane didn’t do much.”
I grab three plates and put pizza on all three before turning to hand both him and Zach a plate.
“Beer?” I ask.
“I’ll take water.”
“Zach?”
“I still have my beer,” he mumbles and walks back to the living room.
I follow Cole and we all sit down, me next to Zach on the sofa and Cole in the chair closest to me.
“ Scream ?” Cole asks, gesturing toward the TV with his pizza.
“Yeah.” Leaning forward, I snag my beer and take a drink to clear the frog sitting on my vocal cords.
“You hate scary movies,” he tells me.
He’s making assumptions based on the person he used to know.
“I used to. You have no idea who I am anymore.” The words are out before I can stop them.
Well, shit, why did I say that?
Because he needs to stop trying to act like we’re friends . We’re not even acquaintances anymore . He’s a stranger .
Cole clears his throat and takes a bite of pizza, chewing and swallowing before he speaks again.
“The company I work for, SAFE Haven Security, got a phone call from Tracy Smith Chabert.”
“I just called Ms. Smith Chabert this morning.”
“My boss, Sawyer, got the call from her shortly after you called her. Luckily, she’s taking the situation seriously. Unfortunately, whoever was in her role before didn’t take the fan mail you got with more gravity.”
“That happened a long time ago,” I tell him.
“It could still be related.”
I’m glad I no longer have those letters—having sent the originals to the pageant people at the time—but the memory of their content creates a shiver of ice that skates down my spine.
“Tell me about what’s been going on.”
It comes slowly, awkwardly. In some ways, sitting with Cole, eating pizza, is a surreal moment. It wasn’t one I ever let myself imagine. But eventually I manage to tell him the whole story.
“I checked all the windows and doors from the outside. Her house is secure.” Zach speaks up after observing the two of us silently.
“What about the locks?” Cole asks.
“What about them?” My nose wrinkles in confusion.
Zach just said the house is secure.
“Have they been changed?”
“No. Not since right after I bought the house. Why?”
“It is possible that somebody has a spare key. You don’t keep one under the doormat, do you?”
“No, Dad , I don’t. I have a key, my parents have a key, Laura Leigh, and Zach.”
“You have a key?” Cole asks Zach.
“Yeah. Since I live closer to her than her parents, if she locks herself out.”
“Are you guys…” He gestures between the two of us.
“That’s none of your business, Cole.” I reach over and squeeze Zach’s hand with mine.
I shouldn’t lead him on like this. I know that. But it’s more important that I get Cole to leave.
Zach smiles, a mix of hope and something else—the tension that exists with Cole in the house.
I don’t blame him.
Cole’s attention is centered on where my hand connects to Zach’s when I turn my head back in his direction.
“I want to do my own look. Tomorrow. But for tonight, we should get some sleep.”
“You’re coming back tomorrow?” I can’t quite keep the dread out of my voice.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Hannah Grace. I want to look more into all of this before I head back to LA.”
“Can’t you send someone else? Isn’t this”—I gesture between the two of us— “a conflict of interest?”
He shrugs. “I doubt Sawyer would care. And, no, no one else is coming. I need to make sure you’re safe myself.”
“I don’t get home from school until after four,” I tell him and stand, walking toward the front door to show him out.
“I’m staying here. I don’t like the idea of you being left here alone.”
“You’re not staying here,” I tell him and prop my hands on my hips.
“I am.”
“You’re not.” My voice is growing louder.
What is it with these two men in particular who seem to think I’m a weak female that needs their protection? First Zach and now Cole both make assumptions that they’re going to stay with me.
“Someone is trying to scare you,” he tells me, and I steel my spine against the shiver that wants to shake free.
“Maybe. We don’t know that for sure. If I need someone to stay, Zach will be here. It wouldn’t be the first time.” I look back at Zach who nods.
“Hannah Grace.” I hate the way my name sounds on his lips.
No , you don’t .
Fine. I want to hate how it sounds. But the walk down memory lane needs to close for the night. I need a good night’s sleep for work tomorrow. And I won’t sleep at all if Cole is in the next room.
“Cole, you had your five minutes. And then some. I’m willing to accept your help, but I’m not willing to have you stay here. I’m not some damsel in distress for you to rescue. We can talk more tomorrow, but for now, I think you need to go find a hotel.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here alone.”
“That’s no longer your concern.”
I can see him gearing up for a fight, his wheels already spinning and looking for whatever way he can to win the argument.
“Please,” I whisper.
His eyes lock with mine, and the fight is replaced with exhaustion.
After several heartbeats in tense silence, he nods.
“Fine. But I am coming back tomorrow.”
Digging into his back pocket, he grabs his wallet and drops a business card on the table.
I stand my ground, not bothering to pick up the card, and open the door. With a sigh, he grabs his jacket off the back of the chair. Relief grows with every step he takes toward the door. But so does my body’s awareness of his as he closes the distance between us.
“Good night, Hannah Grace. I will see you tomorrow.” His eyes search mine.
My lips tingle, remembering all the good night kisses we’ve shared in the past. But that was a long time ago.
“Good night.”
He steps into the light on the porch and reaches back, his fingers brushing mine where they’re wrapped around the doorknob.
“You’ve always been my concern. I’ve never stopped caring for you.”
Another soft skim of his fingertips against my hand and he’s walking toward the rental car parked on the street.
“I can stay on the couch,” Zach asks.
I jump, having completely forgotten he was even here.
I shake my head.
“No, it’s okay.”
“I don’t like him, but I have to admit he’s right. You need someone to keep an eye on you.”
I focus on him, and the hatred he feels is clear. I’ve never seen that look on his face. But given everything I’ve shared about Cole with Zach, I can understand it. Even more so since Zach has made it obvious to me that he’d be interested in being more than friends.
“I don’t need to have someone ‘keep an eye’ on me. I’m perfectly okay on my own. I’ll make sure the doors and windows are locked, but I really just want to be alone right now.”
His nostrils flare and for a split second he opens his mouth, the argument clear on his face. But just as fast, he closes his mouth and stands up.
“Fine. You’re right. I’ll get going too then. But call me if you need me.”
“I will.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, HG.” He squeezes my shoulders in a quick hug.
“Okay. Good night.”
I follow him to the door and wait until he gets into his truck in the driveway before closing the door and locking the deadbolt. On autopilot, I clean up the pizza plates, bottles, and glass and head to my room. I leave the card exactly where Cole dropped it on my table.
Alone in bed, with the covers pulled up, I lift my hand and stare at the skin on the back of my hand. Along my fingers. But no matter how hard I study the area, there’s nothing, no visible mark.
But Cole’s impact on me has never been a tangible thing.