Chapter 42
he’s everywhere
Hannah
Mom
Can we get our nails done on Friday before the fundraiser?
Me
My afternoon is jammed but I could do morning.
Mom
Perfect. I’ll get it booked.
My fingers hover over the screen. I should tell her what happened. But the words are too hard to say.
Not yet. The gala, Norm’s memorial, Rowan, Mom’s cough…no, I’ll do it later. Soon.
I toss the phone onto my desk.
I’m not ready to talk about it. I told Rowan as much last night.
After my shower of shame, he wrapped me in two more towels and helped me out of the tub.
My eyes were nearly swollen shut from all the crying, and my limbs were so, so tired.
It was one of his T-shirts he put on me—the cotton smelled like him and I said I’d be stealing that one too.
He brushed my wet hair with painstaking gentleness, braided it in a single plait down my back. Then he fed me dinner.
The sun had barely gone down when I announced I was ready for bed. No chess, no hot chocolate nightcap on the dock. Rowan didn’t question anything. Just put on a pair of pajama pants, set a glass of water on the nightstand, and climbed in beside me.
He didn’t bring up the subject again, but I saw the pain in his eyes—how much he wanted to say more.
I placed my hand on his cheek and simply said, “I heard you, but I’m not ready. But I think I could be someday.”
Maybe it wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but he accepted it with a nod and a soft kiss to my wrist. Then he tucked me into his chest, my little spoon to his big spoon, and held me until I fell asleep.
Rowan pleaded with me to stay home from work today. On a different week, I might have considered it. But I’m already taking tomorrow off for Norm’s memorial and with the gala on Friday, there’s too much to get done. Plus, I needed the distraction.
My computer pings with an email. I toggle to my inbox and see Mr. Whitley’s reply to my request from yesterday. So much has happened since then, I’d forgotten all about it.
I don’t know what I expected his response to be, but I know what I’d hoped for. It was a long shot—I knew it was—but my heart still sinks a little at the message.
“Hannah, I looked into it and, unfortunately, there’s no record of anyone with that name ever being employed at BCH.”
That thread I thought I’d found was nothing more than a fool’s hope. I shake away the disappointment and pour my focus into finishing my speech.
My lunch hour comes and goes as I blast through my to-do list. Event timelines. Vendor confirmations. Team meetings.
A knock on my door peels my eyes from my computer screen.
Rowan. One shoulder propped on the doorjamb, hands slid into the pockets of his joggers.
My smile is wide. “This is a surprise.”
He approaches me, twirling my car keys around his index finger. My brows furrow. We left my car at the market last night and I’d assumed we’d get it on our way back to the cabin later.
“I took an Uber to the store after dropping you off this morning and brought your car back. It’s parked out front.”
“And you got my keys how?”
He shrugs, cool as a cucumber, and drops the keys next to my phone. “From your purse.”
I rotate in my chair to face him as he rounds my desk, leans his weight against it, arms folded, ankles crossed. “You got a minute?”
The look on his face transforms into something I can’t interpret. “If you’re here to check on me, you don’t have to. I promise I’m fine.”
“So you’ve said. But no, that’s not why I’m here.”
I look up at him expectantly.
His mouth gapes for a moment, his thoughts shifting course. “Have you eaten?” My chuckle is involuntary and incredulous. “So, that’s a no?”
“My sincerest apologies but, no, I haven’t eaten yet. It’s been crazy around here.”
He pulls a granola bar from his pocket and tosses it on the desk. “Eat.”
“Bossy.” I stare at him flatly, but take the snack. I am hungry, but I won’t give him the satisfaction by admitting it. “Do you normally walk around with granola bars for distressed damsels in your pocket?”
His mouth hitches into a grin and a blush fans over my cheeks.
We haven’t kissed since before everything that happened at the grocery store yesterday.
He hasn’t tried, and I know it’s because he’s waiting for me to be ready.
Last night, all I wanted was to close my eyes and forget.
And this morning, as we flitted around the cabin getting ready, things were quiet—he didn’t want to push while I worked hard to ignore the hulking elephant in the room.
I take a bite and brush the crumbs off my hands, crossing my legs. Rowan watches the movement with a tight jaw before bouncing his dark eyes up to mine. No matter what, the attraction between us is always there. Simmering.
He wants to kiss me. And I think I really, really want to kiss him, too.
Like the luminous godsend she is (insert sarcasm here), Kristen pops her head in my office. I initiate the introductions between her and Rowan which are the kind of awkward only my best friend is capable of.
“Rowan, hi!” she preens. “We haven’t met, I’m Kristen.”
“Why are you talking like that?” I ask.
Her voice lilts even higher. “What do you mean?”
“Kristen,” Rowan interjects, shaking her hand. “Nice to see you.”
My eyes narrow, a tennis ball lobbed back and forth between them. “You’re both being weird.”
Kristen lets out a soap opera worthy scoff. Rowan’s shoulders bounce beneath a silent laugh. I’m waiting for someone to crack.
“I’ll tell you later, runaway,” Rowan says.
“I’m gonna go,” my friend announces, backing slowly toward the door. Finger guns aimed at Rowan and me, she adds, “Let you guys talk.”
“Close the door on your way out,” I say, throwing her a look—she knows the one.
I watch Kristen’s disappearing head as she pulls the door behind her. At the last second, she word vomits, “IonlydiditbecauseIloveyouokaybye.” Click.
Smirk lifting, I stand and come toe to toe with the man whose face gives nothing away, but his cobalt eyes tell a different story.
He watches me. I cock my head, lifting a brow.
“I met Kristen when I was here last week,” he admits.
Plausible. Not a big deal. Which is exactly why I know there’s more. “And?”
“And I may have gotten in touch with her husband and paid a visit to his office.” My smile falters.
“More specifically, Daniel’s office.” I suck in a breath but hold his gaze.
“And when I showed up at his office again this morning to find out he’d called in sick, John may have tracked down his home address for me.
” A pause. “And I may have driven straight there. Maybe I knocked on his door.”
Jaw unhinged, I stare at him. Rowan’s iron-willed expression never wavers. It’s uncompromising as I process what he’s told me. The silence goes on for long seconds, but I can’t seem to form a coherent thought.
“If you’re wanting me to apologize, I won’t. I’m not sor—”
My lips slam into his. For his kindness, his thoughtfulness. His selflessness. I kiss him for the man he is—pure steadfast devotion wrapped in battle scars and tattoos.
He sighs into the kiss and takes my face in his hands. Neither of us take it deeper, only press in tight as though breaking for only a millisecond would be too much time apart.
I pull his forehead to mine when we come up for air.
“You’re not mad?” His hands settle on my hips.
Mad at what? That he went out of his way, took it upon himself to protect me? He did it because he cares about me, wants me safe. I could never be mad at him for that.
I shake my head and kiss him again. “I’m not mad.”
“Good.” He clears his throat. “That’s good, because I need to talk to you about something.”
Easing back, I lower into my chair. “All ears.”
“I heard from my family today.” He runs a hand over his brow. “The idiots ignored my texts for two days because they were on a road trip. Here.”
“Here?”
“About an hour out, yeah.”
“Your mom and your sister are—”
“And my best friend.”
“They’re coming here?”
He nods, looking exasperated. “Mom said she wanted to come to Pops’ service and she thought it would be fun to surprise me.”
“And your face tells me you don’t like this surprise?”
He scowls. “She pushed her consultation with her doctor and she’s gonna miss a week of therapy. And now I have to find a place for them to stay.”
The realization hits me: there’s not enough room for all of us at the lake house.
“No,” I rush out. “Don’t do that. I can just—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. Nothing changes. We have four nights left and I’m not giving them up.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, equal parts dread and anticipation taking flight in my belly. “Okay then, what about the city house?”
“Can’t. Realtor has showings lined up every day.” Before I can run down the list of alternatives, he goes on. “And the generator for the camper is broken. I think I need to just find them a hotel in town and—”
“They can stay at my house.” I cut in. He opens his mouth to object, but I stop him. “If Dubs doesn’t mind sleeping on the couch and your mom and sister are cool to share the guest bed, then we can all stay there together.”
“I can’t let you do that. Dubs alone could land us all in the psychiatric ward.”
I laugh. “I insist. Unless you’re worried about sharing a bed with me under the same roof as your mother.”
He glares. “I’m thirty-one, Hannah.”
“Exactly. So there’s nothing to worry about.”
“You’re serious?”
My forehead knits together and I take his hand. “Yes, Rowan, I’m serious. I mean, if you think it’s weird for me to spend time with your family given our…circumstances, I’ll respect that, but—”
“No, baby, that’s not it.” His gaze softens.
“Okay then, slumber party of five commences tonight.”
He finally smiles, dimples popping. I’m yanked to my feet as he hauls me into his chest for another kiss. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah, send ‘em all to my house. You know where my key is.”
His eyes roll to the back of his head on a groan. “I’m changing your locks and teaching you how to properly hide a spare key.”
My laugh follows him out the door.
When I leave the office a few hours later, my car is parked out front exactly where Rowan said it would be.
I climb inside and he’s…everywhere. The freshly vacuumed interior.
The full gas tank. The photo booth snapshot he’s wedged next to the speedometer—him kissing my cheek, me smiling like a lovesick idiot.
Sharing a bed or missing him from two-thousand miles away, I don’t think I’ll ever escape him.
I don’t think I want to.