Chapter 30 Hannah
Hannah
I walk into the kitchen to the sounds of Gibbs talking to Ducky about an autopsy blaring from the living room television.
My mom sits there, completely riveted over an NCIS episode I know she’s seen a hundred times, and Lovie is in the kitchen, multitasking dinner and a game of Angry Birds on her phone.
“You hungry, Hannah Banana?” Lovie asks as she sets down her phone to stir a big pot of her famous chili on the stove. “Dinner’s going to be ready soon.”
“Smells good, Lovie, but I don’t have much of an appetite.” I shrug and plop down onto one of the kitchen barstools.
There’s already homemade sourdough bread in the oven, and the combining smells of fresh bread and spices would normally create an instant hunger in my belly.
But I haven’t felt anything but nausea since I watched Shane leave my stupid sex cubicle this morning after telling me that Dom was no longer on the case.
And still, I haven’t heard a peep from Dom since he left my house early yesterday morning.
I’ve warred with myself over texting or calling him to ask what the hell is going on, because I deserve an explanation—as I deserved to hear that he wasn’t on the case anymore from him directly. But every time I’ve started to reach out to him, I just haven’t been able to follow through.
My pride won’t let me put myself in an even more vulnerable position, where I might hear all the things I fear the most. He doesn’t want to be with me. The other night didn’t mean to him what it meant to me. I’m not worthy.
“Hannah isn’t hungry for my chili?” Lovie asks with a soft tsk. “What’s going on, girl? You okay?”
“It might not be murder,” Ducky says to Gibbs from the television speakers behind me, and I don’t even have to look over my shoulder to know that Gibbs is flashing his typical amused-at-Ducky look before Ducky backtracks into his next line: “I know. I know. It always is.”
My mom bursts into laughter. “You got that right, Ducky!”
Lovie looks toward my mom with a fond smile for a brief moment before bringing her gaze back to me. “You know, keeping it all bottled up inside you isn’t going to get you anywhere.”
“How do you know?” I retort, but I also grin. “I’m aces at compartmentalizing. I mean, most days my own mother thinks I’m a woman named Ziva from NCIS. If that doesn’t take some coping skills, I don’t know what does.”
Lovie frowns. “You don’t always have to be so strong, Hannah Banana. It’s okay to let some of your emotions free sometimes.”
I have to look away, the power of her wise gaze too much for my already battered and confused heart to bear.
I know I don’t have to be strong all the time, but I don’t know how to be anything else. I’ve been rolling with the pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps mindset ever since my father’s tragic death triggered my mother’s brain into unleashing the beast that is Alzheimer’s.
If I’m not strong, what would I become?
If I let myself turn into the sad, pathetic girl who would give in to calling and texting Dom—so he could tell me he doesn’t have feelings for me like I do him—how in the hell would I get over it?
And more than that, how would I be able to stay strong for my mom and muscle through all the shit that life keeps throwing our way?
Self-preservation is all I know. For a brief moment, I let myself think Dom would usher in a new phase of life, but I know now how silly a notion that was. I know now that I have no choice but to stand on my own two feet.
“I’ll be fine, Lovie Dovie, I promise,” I eventually answer, but her mouth turns down into the kind of frown that calls me out on my bullshit.
“Seriously. I will. I think I just need to lie down for a little bit,” I add as I slide off the barstool.
Then I head toward the hallway that leads to my bedroom.
I don’t know what I’m going to do in there, but right now, anything is better than being interrogated by Lovie.
The woman knows too much, sees too much, and I’d rather stay secluded in my bubble of avoidance than face the devastating music of my situation—I thought something was happening between Dom and me, but clearly, I was wrong.
Once I’m inside my bedroom, I curl up beneath the comforter, completely ignoring the fact that it’s eighty degrees out today and I’ll probably start sweating my ass off in a matter of minutes.
And my mind, well, it races.
Thinking of Dom from Saturday night and Sunday morning. Confused over what it all meant to him. Knowing full well what it all meant to me. I have such deep and all-consuming feelings for him that if I attached a word to them, it would be four letters and contain an l and an o and a v and an e.
I’m such an idiot for thinking that Dom and I could actually be something.
The whole reason we even connected in the first place was because I was the down-and-out virgin working at a phone sex hotline and he was the handsome-as-hell detective investigating a murder case.
Clearly, that’s not the kind of story you tell your grandkids. I’m probably delusional for thinking anything substantial could have ever come of it.
Everything I’m telling myself should be a balm to my heart. Should make me open my eyes and realize that I need to move on. Hell, it shouldn’t make me feel anything except anger over the fact that I haven’t heard a peep from Dom since he left my bedroom early Sunday morning.
But it doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t change anything. And it certainly doesn’t make my feelings for him disappear.
Ugh.
I burrow deeper under my covers and shut my eyes as stupid tears threaten to slip past my lids. I feel so weak and so stupid and so vulnerable.
I feel so . . . sad.
A normal woman would reach out to Dom or try to find a way to talk to him face to face. But I’m not a normal woman. I don’t know how to date or be in a relationship.
I’m emotionally inept and stunted, and I don’t trust myself to handle this any other way but to quietly disappear back into my world of sex cubicles and reverse mortgage payments and NCIS episodes with my mother.
I shut my eyes tighter, fisting the blankets between my fingers as I cuddle them close to my chest and beg for sleep to numb me.
7:00 p.m.
I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep, but when I open my eyes, the sun is just starting to dip and the sky is fading into early evening.
My hair is matted to my face with sweat, and when I climb out of bed, I have to change my clothes—bra and underwear too—because I decided to sleep beneath a down comforter in a room that is giving its best impression of a sauna.
Yes, I could turn the actual air-conditioning on, but I try to go AC-less for as long as I can to cut down on expenses.
But we’re diving headfirst into summer weather, and unless I want to turn into a shriveled-up prune, I’m going to have to bite the bullet and pay the extra money on our energy bill.
I snag my phone off the nightstand. My heart starts pounding hard when I see a few missed calls and texts from the one man I just tried to sleep out of my mind.
My finger hovers over the screen as I’m tempted to check, tempted to read what he has to say, but eventually I choose to slide out of bed and ignore whatever is inside Dom’s texts until I’m ready to face it.
Coward, my subconscious taunts, but I ignore her too.
I shove on a pair of jeans and a tank top and make a quick stop in the bathroom to toss my brown locks up into a high ponytail before heading for the kitchen.
Hunger is actually a feeling I can tolerate now, and I’m certain, even though I missed eating dinner with Lovie and my mom, we have enough chili and sourdough leftovers to last a week.
Just as I reach the entryway of the house, my ears detect laughter and chatter coming from Lovie and my mom, but there’s another voice present that my brain is having a hard time comprehending. It’s deep and husky and 100 percent male, but there’s no way it’s who my mind wants to tell me it is.
Don’t be ridiculous, Hannah.
I pad into the kitchen, but I stop on a dime at the sight of Dom’s familiar light-brown hair.
He sits beside my mother on the sofa, both of them facing the television as an episode of NCIS plays on the screen.
Lovie sits in one of the chairs to the left of the coffee table, her fingers busy with her knitting kit.
“Well, hey there, sleepyhead,” Lovie greets me when she looks up from her lap and meets my eyes. “Have a nice nap?”
I nod, but I don’t say anything else because my mind is too busy trying to understand why Dom is here. He glances over his shoulder, and a huge smile crests on his lips when he sees me.
Mere seconds later, he’s on his feet and heading straight in my direction.
Anxiety forms a wall of nerves inside my chest as I watch him stride across the hardwood floor. He pauses to grab something from a chair that sits by the large wooden dining table, and it doesn’t take me long to realize it’s a bouquet of flowers.
Beautiful, vibrant flowers in all colors, shapes, and sizes.
His smile is breathtaking, downright heart stopping, as he holds the bouquet out. “These are for you.”
He brought me flowers? I am so confused.
“Uh . . . thanks.” I take them in my hand, glancing down at them for a quiet moment or two before I find the strength to look back into his eyes. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to see you,” he says, as if it makes complete sense.
“But you’re off the case. Shane told me this morning.”
“Yeah.” He nods and his smile morphs from big and bold to soft. “I am. But I’m not here for the case, Hannah. I’m here for you.”
I furrow my brow. “I don’t really understand. I—”
“Technically, I’m here because I wanted to see if you’d be interested in going out on a date.”
“A date?” I blink. “With you?”
“Well, yeah.” He chuckles at that. “I mean, I’m hoping the date would be with me. Can’t say I’d be too thrilled if you left the house with some other bastard.”
He wants to date me?
“And I know this might be a little presumptuous, but since Lovie said you haven’t eaten yet, I figured we could still make tonight work,” he adds, but all I can do is stand there, clutching the flowers in my hands.
“Oh, c’mon, Ziva!” my mom calls from behind us. “Put Tony out of his misery and say yes!”
“Sherry!” Lovie chastises, but she does it through a tickled grin.
“What?” my mom questions, confusion in her voice. “These two belong together. Even Gibbs knows it.”
Dom’s eyes are locked with mine, and my heart can’t decide if it wants to pound erratically or come to a halt. Dom is here, asking me out on a date, and it’s the exact opposite of the scenario my mind has been conjuring up since Shane told me he was off the case this morning.
“Today’s been a bit confusing,” I say honestly but also quietly, so my mother doesn’t try to chime in again. “Shane showed up at work and you weren’t with him, and I haven’t heard anything from you since you left Sunday morning.”
“I know.” He frowns and nods. “And I’m sorry, really sorry, but it was all for a good reason. I needed to make sure we were no longer crossing a line.”
“What does that mean, Dom?”
“I took myself off the case.”
“It really sucked hearing it from Shane and not from you,” I whisper, and the vulnerability in my own voice surprises me.
Dom reaches out to place two gentle hands on my hips and pull me closer to him.
The bouquet of flowers is still in my hands, but it’s being crushed between our chests.
“Hannah, I’m sorry about how it all went down, but I felt like I couldn’t move forward with you until I made things right professionally. ”
I search his eyes.
“And the only reason I wouldn’t want to take myself off the case is because I want to protect you,” he continues.
“I want to keep you safe. You’re important to me.
But I figured it’d be okay because Shane is still on the case, a guy I trust more than anyone.
” He squeezes my hips. “Plus, I’m really fucking hoping I’m going to be close to you anyways so . . .”
“Close to me anyways?”
“Yeah.” His smile is big and huge and so powerful I actually feel it in my belly. “Isn’t it obvious, Hannah? I like you. A lot.”
I smile. I can’t help it. “I like you too.”
“Well, then, how about you let me take you out tonight?” he questions and reaches out to tuck a rogue piece of my hair behind my ear. “I really want to spend more time with you. I want to explore whatever this is between us.”
“I want that too,” I whisper.
“So . . .” His mouth quirks up at the corners. “This is you saying yes?”
“Yeah.” I nod again, my current smile matching his. “This is me saying yes, but I have one condition.”
“And what’s that?”
“You need to give me, like, twenty minutes to get ready.”
He grins. “Take all the time you need, Hannah.” He holds out both hands in the air. “I’ll happily wait for you.”
He’ll happily wait for me.
I don’t know why, but that sure does sound good.