Chapter 29 – Hannah
Chapter 29 – Hanna h
I don’t know how I got here, but I’m comfortably sitting by the lighthouse. Harley is zig-zagging everywhere, sniffing everything there to sniff. She’s clearly in doggy sensory heaven. The warmth that grows in my chest as I watch her makes me so thankful I let a friend in college talk me into volunteering at a shelter. When I got home last night, she was already there, tail wagging like a helicopter ready for takeoff. Thankfully, Abby had the foresight to bring her back, so I didn’t have to have a conversation I wasn’t ready for.
This dog is an actual angel. There isn’t a human or animal more in tune with my inner turmoil than this girl. It’s like God hand-picked her for me, dropped her in my lap, and said here. You’re going to need the help of an angel on earth. Amen to that. Suddenly, she stops, lifts her head, and smells the air. I think maybe there’s an animal close by when she takes off running. But my theory is quickly disproved when I hear, “Hey, pretty girl,” in that smooth, deep voice that I miss so much.
My skin immediately feels two sizes too small. I take a deep breath, in through my nose, out through my mouth a couple of times. Maybe that’s why I ended up here. I subconsciously wanted to talk, but now that he’s in front of me or behind me, I all of a sudden decide it’s a horrible idea. I don’t turn around; my eyes focus on the waves crashing into the rocks.
“Hey, Kitten.” He sits next to me, and his cologne washes over me. All I want to do is curl into him. Sandalwood with hints of mandarin is warm and fresh. It feels like coming home and wrapping myself in my favorite blanket. My body is vibrating like a magnet being pulled towards its other half.
Turning my head slightly, I give him a small smile as I look at his face. His beard is a little longer than it was the last time I saw him. There are dark circles under his eyes, but they look better than they did before I left. His arm is still in a sling; he looks a little less stiff, though, which is a good sign.
“Hey.” It’s croaked out. He smiles, and my traitorous heart speeds up at the sight.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were back?” His voice barely a whisper, but the rawness to it hits me somewhere deep. He pulls his knees into his chest, resting his sling carefully on top of them as he searches my face. His eyes pleading for something I’m not sure I can give him.
“I didn’t know I needed to give you a play-by-play of my life.”
He hangs his head, his shoulders hunching forward. I feel like time has stopped as I look over at him; he looks as broken as I feel at this moment. “I deserved that.” He murmurs, voice cracking on the tail end. “I know sorry will never be enough, but I am sorry, Hannah. I’m sorry for not showing up at the carnival, I’m sorry for the things I said, I’m sorry for pushing you away. But mostly, I’m sorry that I was the cause of even a second of pain for you.”
Goosebumps cover my arms as a shiver rolls through my body. “Are you cold?” He looks up at me through his lashes, his head still hung.
“No.” I whisper, my throat suddenly drier that the Grand Canyon in July. “I just wasn’t expecting to have this conversation today. I had the entire conversation played out in my head, but it definitely didn’t start with an apology from you.”
“You didn’t think I’d apologize?” My tongue darts out to wet my suddenly parched lips. He follows the movement, and the intensity of his stare releases the herd of butterflies in my stomach.
“I knew you’d apologize, Grey,” I admit, “that’s just who you are. I was just prepared to get everything I needed to say out first.”
He shifts closer, leaving just enough space so that I can breathe. His eyes never leave mine, like he’s bracing for impact. Ready to take everything I throw his way. “So, get it out. Give it to me, I deserve it.”
“That’s the thing, you don’t deserve it. I get that you were hurting. I know that you were pushed to a breaking point and I was the topic that made you snap. But I needed to hear all that, it snapped me out of the fantasy world I was living in.”
I thought this would make me feel better, but all it’s doing right now is making me sick. Nausea rolls through me, only worsened by the look on his face. It’s as if someone just punched him in the ribs. Equal parts pained and confused.
His voice wobbles when he speaks. “Hannah... no. That’s not–”
“Stop, Grey. Please.” I cut him off before I lose the nerve to keep going. “I’ve never been good enough to be someone’s end game. And you Greyson Wilder are so far out of my league it’s not even funny. I was only kidding myself when I let myself indulge in thoughts of us.”
His eyes harden as I talk, hands clenching into fists, shaking with the effort to hold himself together. But he doesn’t stop me.
“You have this big, beautiful life, you’re a loved member of this community. Of the hockey world, being tied to someone like me would be a hindrance for you. This was the wake up c all I needed. I needed to put those thoughts away because you deserve the world, the best of the best. And that isn’t me, not right now. I’m still trying to figure out who I am.”
I barely got that last part out before he kneeled in front of me with his good hand on the side of my face, tears spill from his eyes. “Don’t. Don’t do this, Kitten. I don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself that way again. You are the best of the best. And this crap about you not being good enough, is just that. It’s crap Hannah. You are everything. Do you hear me? Everything.”
My eyes dart between his, tracking the tears that are falling down his face. This big, beautiful man is hurting, and I played a part in it. It's as if someone has reached inside me, grabbed my stomach, and squeezed; I whisper my next words.
Heavy with hurt and the need for him to fight against them. “I needed you, Grey. I needed my lighthouse, but the keeper turned out the light, and I was thrown around in the waves in the middle of a storm. Alone.”
His forehead meets mine, his breath shaky against my skin. His thumb brushes the tears from my eyes. I can’t handle the intensity of his gaze, so I shut them altogether. That was a horrible idea because seconds later, his lips pressed softly against mine.
It’s heartbreakingly soft, a silent plea. I whimper. The sound makes him pull back slightly, his eyes sweeping over my face.
“I know that I hurt you.” He rasps, his voice soft and comforting. “But I’m not that guy, Han. I’ll spend the rest of forever proving that to you. I’ll give you all the time and space you need. But you have to really hear me when I say this. I will always come for you. I will always fight for you. And I need you to fight for me too. I’m broken, but my brokenness is a lo t less ugly when it’s mixed with yours.”
I look down at the ground, but that doesn’t last long because he’s raising my head to look at him. “I had every intention of coming back from Washington and asking you to be mine. I jacked that up royally.” A scoff escapes before I can stop it; it causes a smile to cross his guilt-stricken face.
“Did you know she was here?” The question tumbles out of me like a landslide.
His hand drops from my face, and at the same time, my heart falls to the floor. His expression shifts from desperation to horror. “What? No, of course not. I told her when she showed up at the hospital in Washington that I never wanted to hear from her again.”
All the air whooshes out of me, jealousy that she was there while I was here, even though logically, I know she showed up uninvited. But that stings.
“I understand why you snapped, but I need to know if I’m expendable. I need to know that when things get hard for you, you won’t ignore me and push me away like that again.”
His face pales, his mouth drops open as his head shakes, but no words come out. I wait for what feels like an eternity for him to say something, anything. But I’m met with silence. I nod at his lack of answer and push off the ground.
“It was good to see you.” My voice cracked like a full bag of PopRocks. “Come on, Har.” I intend to walk back to where my car is parked, but before I can take two steps, he’s up off the ground, too. He grabs my hand, stopping my movement.
“Hannah, please. I’m sorry.” I look down at our hands, wishing more than anything that I didn’t feel the electricity passing through them. Wishing I didn’t know what they felt like on the sides of my neck, like I didn’t find comfort in his arms when they were wrapped around me.
“I’m not going to beg, Greyson. I’m tired. I’ve been fighting for love my entire life. I just want it to be freely given to me for once.” I pull my hand from his grasp before looking back up at him, “I need to know if I put my heart on the line for you that it’s going to be protected. You asked me to fight for you, but I won’t go into battle alone. That’s a surefire way to lose myself completely.”
With that, I turned on my heel and started walking back to my car. I don’t get far before I shake my head, remembering the promise I made to myself. A deep breath fills my lungs as I turn and look up at him. “I’m sorry too, Grey. I keep running, and I told you I wouldn’t. I want to have this conversation; I want to move past this. But right now, I’m not ready. And clearly, you aren’t either. I’m not perfect; I will never claim to be. I’m trying to be better. For both of us.”
This time, I make it to my car, put it in reverse, and pull away from the very person I want to wrap myself around.My heart is heavy, and my mind is reeling, but a realization hits me like a freight train. I didn’t run; I voiced my need to have more time. I voiced any need.
Holy cannoli. I voiced a need to a man. The unhinged laugh that leaves my mouth startles me but stitches a piece of my heart back together the same way dancing back home did. The pride that shoots through me at the realization would bring me to my knees if I wasn’t already sitting down.
I’ve never let myself feel proud of my actions or accomplishments; there was always something else to do. A higher level to get to, but here, right now? My soul warms f rom the inside out, like the first sip of a steaming hot cup of peppermint mocha on a cold winter day.
Continuing with my sudden bout of courage, I pick up the business card Madeline handed me at the carnival. I’m not sure where this conversation is going to go, but I owe it to myself to give it a chance. As I dial the number on the back, my hands shake. I feel like I’m on the edge of a cliff looking down, blood pounding in my ears at the notion that I’m doing something for myself. The line rings three times before I’m greeted with a kind “Hello.”
“Mrs. Boswell, it’s Hannah Lowery. We met at the carnival for Tampa Today.” My voice didn’t crack, so I’ll call it a win.
“Hannah! How nice to hear from you. How are you?” Her voice is soft yet filled with excitement. My nerves settle a bit, I take a big breath, and then I jump.
“I’m doing well; I wanted to hear you out on what your charity is and what position might be available for me to fill if your offer still stands, of course.” It’s quick-winded; I’m not entirely sure she even understood what I said.
“Of course. My husband, Thomas, and I run a company that helps charities and nonprofits plan their events. We don’t actually run the charities themselves; rather, we have the network, connections, and additional funding to help their events go off with as much or as little involvement on their part as they choose.”
A light blooms in my chest, and I find myself smiling as I ask, “So, could I be working with multiple charities at a time?”
“In the role I have in mind for you, yes. I think you’d do well at leading a team of project managers and event coordinators. One works from an operational standpoint, and the other works from finances and logistics. While the event side does all the actual planning, decorations, food, and so on. Basically, what you did with the Tampa Today event on a larger scale with a team to help, does that sound like something you might be interested in?” I want to jump up and down and scream, “YES!” I need to talk to my boss first, though.
“It does; I think a career change was inevitable. I just didn’t know it would be in this direction. I need to talk to Nora before I make any decisions. I can’t just leave my current co-workers high and dry.”
“I totally understand. We’d love to have you, but I know it’s a bit of a switch from the role you’re currently in. Take some time, think about it, and let me know by the end of next week. Is that enough time?” Nodding like she can see me, I take a couple of deep breaths to keep myself from squealing like a pig in mud.
“Yes, Ma'am, that should be plenty of time. I go back to the office tomorrow, so I will talk to her then.” There’s a scoff on the other end of the phone, and a smile grows on my face, mainly because I know exactly what’s coming.
“Don’t you ‘Ma’am’ me, Ms. Lowery. I’m 45, not 97.” I feel giddy at the moment, like that space between sober and tipsy where everything is funny, and everyone loves each other.
“Sorry, my mom raised me right.” I apolo gize with a chuckle. When I first moved here in college, Abby used to make fun of me for my constant “Yes Ma’am, Yes Sir.” But her favorite was when I said y’all and oil. Apparently, both are incorrect.
We say our goodbyes, and she promises to send me what we talked about in further detail in an email sometime tomorrow.
Two conversations I was scared to have; one didn't go all that well, but the second definitely did. Regardless, who is this woman putting her wants and needs first for once in her life?