2. Grim
GRIM
I stared at my phone in the quiet garage, reading Hannah's messages for what had to be the fifteenth time since last night.
Hannah: I need you to come to Lyra's wedding as my plus-one.
Hannah: Wear the black suit. You look good in that one.
That last message was the problem. Hannah noticed my suit.
I remembered exactly when she'd seen me in it. Last Christmas, I’d dressed up for Mama Mae's annual dinner.
Hannah had arrived late, her cheeks pink from the cold, wearing a green sweater that made her eyes look more gold than brown.
She'd stopped in front of me, tilted her head, and said, "You clean up scary good. "
I'd told her not to get used to it.
She'd laughed and stolen the roll off my plate.
At the time, I'd assumed she was just being friendly. That's who she was… warm and easy and generous with her smiles.
Now I wondered if I'd misread her.
She'd probably just invited me because she needed someone intimidating enough to keep her ex away. Nothing complicated. But that explanation didn't account for the comment about my suit.
I set my phone facedown and went back to the Harley on the lift. The carburetor rebuild should've held my attention. Problems with machines had identifiable causes. I figured out what was wrong, fixed it, and moved on. But this time, work didn’t distract me.
I kept checking my phone even though it didn’t ping with a new message, and I was pissed at myself for doing it. Usually, I could keep myself from spending too much time thinking about Hannah.
But my mind drifted to the time she came home from college that first summer looking all grown up.
She’d walked into the garage looking for Everett, leaned over my workbench, stolen my soda, and smiled at me like she had every right to it.
I'd spent the rest of the afternoon trying unsuccessfully to ignore her.
Since then, I'd kept my distance.
Hannah was friendly to everyone. Quick to laugh. Always filling any awkward silence. She was more observant than people realized and capable of making me feel noticed without even trying.
I’d spent years answering her smiles with grunts, cutting conversations short, and finding reasons to leave whenever she got too close.
That was the only way I could handle being around her. Especially after that comment her brother made. It'd happened after some asshole made a rude comment about Hannah at a party. I'd shut it down fast enough that the guy never finished his sentence.
Everett clapped me on the shoulder and told me I was the only guy he never had to worry about around her.
I'd built my entire life around being loyal to the people I considered my found family. I'd rather deny what I wanted than betray his trust.
So that had made Hannah permanently off-limits. Until she invited me to a wedding.
I studied the wording of her messages again.
The references to drunk-crying and murder suggested she'd been drinking. The spelling was fine, but the tone was a hell of a lot more casual than the rare texts she’d sent me over the years.
Then I re-read them again.
Genuine family emergency. That phrase belonged to a sister asking her brother, not a woman asking me.
Reminding me murder would ruin Lyra's wedding. Sibling shorthand.
Please say yes. She'd never said something like that to me, not once, in all the years I'd known her.
Fuck. She hadn't meant to send it to me.
The suit comment fell into place with the rest of it. She’d never noticed me in a black suit, no matter how much I might have wanted her to.
I typed out a text.
Me: I think you meant to send this to Everett
My thumb hovered over the send button, then I deleted the whole goddamn thing.
If I sent that, she'd know. She'd redirect the plus-one request to her brother, which was where she'd meant to send it in the first place. The suit line would embarrass her for a day and then get filed away as one of those things drunk Hannah said to family.
The plus-one wouldn't be me.
Dammit. Despite everything, I wanted it to be me.
I shoved my phone in my pocket. It wasn't there ten seconds before I checked it again.
Twenty minutes later, after I’d finally refocused on the Harley, my phone rang.
I expected it to be Hannah, laughing and embarrassed and making excuses for drunk texting me on accident.
Instead, Everett's name filled the screen.
I answered. "Yeah?”
"You busy?"
"Not anymore."
Everett exhaled. "Lyra sent me a text last night. Hannah found out James is the best man. She didn’t take it well.”
“That sucks. Think she’ll be okay?”
“I’d go, but I finally got a lunch meeting with that investor I’ve been trying to nail down for months,” Everett continued. “She really should have someone there for her, though.”
I could tell him she'd texted me by mistake. That she'd meant to reach him and hit the wrong contact. I didn't. “Already handled.”
Silence stretched long enough that I pulled the phone from my ear to check if the call had dropped.
"You talked to her?" Everett finally asked.
"She reached out."
"And you're going?"
"Said I would."
Another pause. “I appreciate it, man. I know weddings aren't your thing."
They weren't. But Hannah was.
"What do you need me to do?" I asked.
"Keep James from cornering her. Make sure she doesn't leave early. Stop her from drinking enough to regret it. Get her home safely." He hesitated. "Call me if she needs me."
I wiped grease from my hands. "Anything else?"
"Try not to look like you're attending a funeral."
“Does she know you called me?” I asked.
"She knows I'll make sure somebody's there for her."
That sounded like confirmation. I should've asked more questions. Should've clarified exactly what Hannah had told him. Instead, I said, "I'll look after her."
"That's all I'm asking." Everett's voice softened. "I wouldn't ask just anybody. You're the only guy I trust not to make things worse.”
I could still back out. Tell Everett that Hannah had invited me as her plus-one and let him object, but I assumed he already knew.
"I got it," I said.
"Thanks, Grim. Means a lot."
The call ended. I stared at the phone and recognized the danger immediately.
The problem wasn't that I wouldn’t be able to control myself around her. The problem was that I'd wanted ordinary things with Hannah for years. Her teasing me across a breakfast table. Her shoes next to my front door. Her talking through a movie. Her filling my quiet house with laughter.
A wedding weekend would give me a temporary version of something I'd never allowed myself to imagine. I just needed to remember that’s all it would be… temporary.
I was wiping down my tools when Mama Mae appeared in the garage doorway, carrying a paper bag that smelled like bacon and fresh biscuits.
“I was running errands and thought I’d stop by. Did you eat breakfast yet?”
"No ma’am.”
She set the bag on my workbench and studied me with the kind of attention that could make a hardened criminal confess things he’d planned to take to his grave.
"Whose message has you glaring at your phone like it insulted your motorcycle?"
"Nobody's."
"Try again."
I unwrapped a biscuit instead of giving her an answer.
“Must be a woman," Mama Mae decided.
"It's not."
“You cleaned grease from under your nails before noon. You only do that when you're going somewhere important."
I gave up. "Hannah asked me to come to Lyra's wedding with her.”
Mama Mae's expression shifted to interest, but not surprise. "Hannah Sutton."
"Everett's sister, yeah."
"Hannah hasn't been just Everett's sister for a long time." She leaned against the workbench. "Not to you."
I shook my head. “Don't start that again.”
"I'm not. If she invited you, it would be rude not to go.”
"Her ex is the best man," I explained. "She needs backup."
Mama Mae bit back a smile. “Is she looking for a bodyguard or a date?"
“I just need to keep James away from her.”
“Hmm. Well, a bodyguard would stand between a woman and trouble. A date would stand next to her. Be sure you know which one she asked for."
“She didn’t ask for either. I’m doing a friend a favor, that’s all.”
Finally, she picked up the empty paper bag. "Be careful with her heart, hon. And with yours."
She left before I could argue that my heart wasn't involved. We both would've known I was lying.
I checked Hannah's messages one more time.
I could show up for the rehearsal dinner in jeans and a club shirt. That would make it clear I was only doing Everett a favor.
Instead, I'd follow Hannah's instructions exactly.
I'd wear the black suit. I'd dance with her. I'd keep James away. I'd also act like I wanted to be there, because that part wouldn't require pretending.
I left the garage early and stopped at home to dig the suit out from the back of my closet. The shirt needed ironing. I considered buying another one, decided that was excessive, and set up the ironing board instead.
I trimmed my beard. Cleaned my boots. Checked the weather. My phone buzzed with a new message.
Hannah: Please tell me I didn't sound completely pathetic last night.
Me: You didn't.
You're required to say that. It's in the sibling contract.
I paused at the word "sibling."
Hannah: This is why you're my favorite.
Hannah told Everett that often. But just this once, I allowed myself to believe she meant me.
I finished packing and loaded the bike. Everett had said once I was the one guy he could trust around her. He'd been right about that. Until I read her message.