Chapter Sixty-Two - Hannah
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Hannah
THE SUN HADN’T burned off the morning chill yet, but the turnout was strong. Kids swarmed the tomato beds, volunteers handed out flyers near the greenhouse, and donors sipped coffee from compostable cups with branded sleeves.
Hannah moved through the space like she belonged there.
Because she did.
Her clipboard was tucked under one arm, and her tank top revealed strong, bare arms dusted with dirt. No makeup. No apology.
She smiled at Morgan, nodded at Carmen, and crouched beside one of the kids to compliment a hand-painted garden sign.
Then she heard it.
A voice. Familiar. Too familiar.
“Hey, good to see you again, Hannah.”
She turned, blinking.
Tristan.
Tristan from the club. Tristan from her bed. Tristan from that night she didn’t plan to remember.
He stood by the compost display, sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, holding a smoothie like he’d wandered in from a pitch meeting.
“I saw the marketing stuff Daniel put together for this,” he said. “It was some great work.”
Her stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”
Tristan grinned. “We’re on the same team. He’s my boss. Kind of. Well—was. Not sure what the hierarchy is now that he’s back.”
Hannah stared at him. Her brain stalled.
“And hey, I had a great time the other night.” He winked. “Can I grab your number this time?”
The air around them went still.
Conversations dimmed. Movement slowed.
Her mouth opened—but before she could find the words, she felt it.
Daniel.
She could feel him before she saw him—could sense the exact second he clocked the tension, felt the rip in the air.
“What’s going on?” he asked, approaching.
His voice was steady, but his posture was all wrong. Shoulders tight. Jaw locked.
Tristan turned, casual as ever. “Just catching up with your ex-wife.”
Daniel’s breath hitched. His body went stock-still.
Tristan smiled wider. “Don’t worry, man. It was during the separation. Not like I broke any rules.”
A beat.
Then—
A single, stunned laugh from a volunteer nearby.
Carmen let out a soft, horrified “Oh my god.”
Morgan stepped closer, one hand already on Hannah’s elbow like she might need backup.
Daniel didn’t say a word. He just stared. At Tristan. Then at Hannah.
The silence sharpened.
Hannah looked back at Tristan. “You need to leave.”
Tristan blinked. “What?”
“I’m not interested in giving you my number,” she said calmly, her voice cutting through the quiet. “And I’d like you to leave.”
“Whoa,” he laughed, holding up his hands. “Alright. Didn’t mean to step on any landmines.”
She said nothing.
Just watched him until he finally—finally—backed off and walked toward the parking lot, tossing his smoothie into the compost bin like he hadn’t just detonated a grenade.
When the noise resumed—cautious, muted, people murmuring and moving again—Daniel still hadn’t moved.
Hannah didn’t either.
He stepped closer. “Can we talk?”
She hesitated. Then nodded.
They walked around the side of the greenhouse, to the edge of the wildflower bed—out of earshot, but not out of sight.
She crossed her arms. “Are you angry?”
His jaw clenched. “Furious.”
She nodded, biting the inside of her cheek.
“At myself,” he added quickly.
She looked at him.
“We were separated,” he said. “Because of me. And it’s humiliating— God , it’s humiliating—to know I work next to him now. To have to look him in the eye. To remember what he’s seen. What you gave him.”
Her throat tightened.
“But I don’t get to complain,” he continued, voice low. “I forfeited that. The day I broke us? I gave up the right to be jealous. I gave up the right to be mad.”
He looked down. Then back at her.
“It hurts like hell. But I don’t deserve better. Not after what I did to you.”
Hannah didn’t reply right away.
She just looked at him.
And he stood there—open, ashamed, honest in a way he never used to be. Not when it counted.
She could see it all over him.
══════════════════
The late afternoon air was soft, cool, fragrant with earth. Hannah crouched by the carrot bed, running her fingers through the soil.
She wasn’t working. Not really. She just needed something to do with her hands.
A shadow crossed the planter.
“You’re still here,” Robert said, settling onto the bench behind her.
“I needed to think,” she murmured, not looking up.
Elaine joined a moment later, easing beside her husband with a soft groan. “My knees weren’t built for this much wisdom,” she said, rubbing one leg before resting her hands in her lap. “But we saw you here, and thought you might need some.”
Hannah smiled faintly. “Is that what you two deal in? Wisdom?”
Elaine shrugged. “Only the kind that comes with messing things up first.”
They let the silence sit.
A bird trilled in the fig tree. In the distance, someone started the hose.
Hannah sat back on her heels and finally looked at them. “How did you know?”
Robert tilted his head. “Know what?”
“I told myself I couldn’t take him back. That if I did, I’d be weak.” She shook her head, voice thickening. “I got out. I rebuilt. I didn’t run back.”
Elaine leaned forward slightly. “And now?”
“I want to come home,” Hannah whispered. “Not to the past. Not to what we had. To something new. But I want it with him.”
Robert smiled, eyes kind. “Then take it. You’re allowed.”
Elaine squeezed her hand. “It’s about whether you’re ready to love him with your eyes open.”
Hannah nodded.
She was.
She was scared. But she was ready.
Not to go backward.
But to choose him again—with all the knowledge she hadn’t had before.
With all the power she’d reclaimed.
She dusted her hands off on her thighs and stood, her body steadier than it had been in months.
Elaine and Robert stood with her.
“I’m going to tell him,” she said.
She hugged them both before walking toward her future.
Toward the man who had wrecked her life—and waited, humbly, on the edges of it, hoping she’d let him build something better. Something new.
She was ready.