4. Grim
GRIM
I escorted Hannah into the rehearsal with her hand tucked into the crook of my arm. It didn’t mean anything. I was just offering the moral support Everett had asked me to provide.
But everyone who glanced our way assumed we were together, and Hannah didn’t make any effort to correct them.
I told myself I was only helping her through the weekend. The attraction made that explanation increasingly difficult to believe.
The wedding planner clapped her hands together, gathering the wedding party. Hannah reluctantly released my arm and joined the others near the altar.
"Maid of honor and best man, let's practice your entrance," the planner announced.
James immediately moved to Hannah's side and extended his arm with practiced ease. She placed her hand on it, and something about the gesture bothered me. It was too familiar.
I leaned against the back wall and watched.
They began walking down the aisle together. James said something I couldn't hear, and Hannah's smile faltered.
"You're moving too fast," James murmured, loud enough that I caught it. "You never did know how to make a subtle entrance."
He said it like a joke. Like harmless teasing between people with shared history.
Hannah laughed, but the sound was hollow.
She immediately adjusted her pace, her shoulders pulling inward, her movements becoming smaller and more careful. The bright energy that had filled her moments before dimmed.
I fucking hated the effect he had on her, but I didn't interfere. Hannah could handle herself, and I didn’t want to make it worse.
James continued criticizing her as they walked. Hannah nodded and adjusted each time, shrinking further with every suggestion.
When they finished, Hannah returned to where I stood. Her movements were still measured, cautious in a way they hadn't been earlier.
"Why are you suddenly trying to take up less space?"
She blinked at me. "I'm not."
"You're walking like you're afraid someone will notice you're breathing."
"James just said I was going too fast."
"You were fine the first time."
"He's been in more weddings than I have."
I studied her face. "You don't need him instructing you on how to cross a room."
Hannah's lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across her features. "You noticed?"
"I notice you."
Hannah's eyes widened, and the air between us shifted into something I wasn’t ready to handle.
She opened her mouth, closed it, then managed a soft, "Oh."
The wedding planner wanted them to run it again, saving us both from whatever came next.
I watched and waited during the rehearsal, then it was time for dinner. The seating chart placed us with several of Lyra's college friends who spent most of their time talking about people I didn't know.
I didn't have much to say, but I listened when Hannah spoke and responded with dry comments that kept making her laugh.
Gradually, she relaxed. Her gestures became broader again and her voice regained its natural warmth. She told a story about her and Lyra accidentally getting locked in a campus library overnight, and the entire table leaned in to listen.
That’s who she was when James wasn't whispering corrections in her ear. Bright and engaging and impossible not to watch.
Her energy drew people in. It was never something that needed to be dimmed.
During a lull in conversation, Hannah picked up her phone and typed something quickly before setting it back down on the table.
My phone buzzed in my jacket pocket.
Hannah: Your best friend told me he notices me. What does that even mean?
I stared at the message. She still thought she was texting Everett. Two days in and she hadn't noticed. I could have said something at any point.
But I wasn't going to. Not tonight.
Me: Probably means he notices you.
Her phone lit up. She grabbed it immediately, her fingers flying across the screen.
Hannah: That’s not helpful.
I bit down on a smile and typed back.
Me: You could just ask him.
Hannah huffed out a breath, shooting me a glance that suggested Everett was being annoying. I pretended to pay attention to the speeches beginning at the front of the room while waiting for her response.
Hannah: Fine. Don't help.
I enjoyed this. The private exchange happening while surrounded by dozens of people who had no idea what was going on.
Me: He’ll be there all weekend if you change your mind.
She read the message and bit her lip to keep from smiling.
James approached during dessert, catching Hannah near the bar where she'd gone to refill her water.
I watched from my seat as he leaned against the counter next to her, his posture casual but his positioning deliberate.
"Remember that wedding we went to in Charleston?" His voice carried enough that I could hear him. "You got so drunk you tried to teach the flower girl how to do shots with apple juice."
Hannah laughed, but it sounded forced. "I wasn't that drunk."
"You were exactly that drunk." He studied her with the kind of familiarity that came from years together. "Grim's not your usual type."
"I wasn't aware I had a type."
"Come on, Hannah. A biker? You're overcompensating."
"For what?"
"For wanting to prove you've moved on."
I stood and crossed the room before Hannah had to defend herself any further.
"Ready for that dance you promised?” I asked, ignoring James entirely.
She gave me a smile that obliterated every single one of my defenses. "Yes."
I offered my hand, and she took it without hesitation.
The DJ had started playing slower songs as the evening progressed. I led Hannah onto the dance floor and pulled her close enough that her body pressed against mine.
"I expected you to sway in one place and growl at anyone who got too close,” she murmured.
"Disappointed?"
"Surprised."
I could dance. Mama Mae had insisted all her boys learn basic social skills, and that included not embarrassing their dates at formal events.
Hannah fit against me easily, one hand warm in mine, her other hand resting on my shoulder. The banter between us faded as the physical tension grew. She relaxed into me, and her cheek brushed against my jaw.
I had to remind myself that Everett trusted me.
"Why did you agree to come this weekend?” she whispered into my shirt.
"You asked."
She pulled back just far enough to look up at me. "Everett asked. After I made a fool of myself."
I meant that her invitation had been enough. That the moment I'd seen her message, I'd known I would come regardless of what Everett wanted. But I couldn't say that without admitting too much. It was easier to let her believe what she needed to believe.
"I was afraid seeing James would turn me back into the insecure wimp I was when we dated," Hannah admitted.
Her honesty caught me off guard.
“He never deserved you. He’s too fucking critical.”
"How do you know?"
"I've listened “to him trying to correct you all night.”
“He’s not really correcting me, just making suggestions." A tiny wrinkle creased the spot between her brows.
Was she really trying to defend the fucker?
“Suggestions about how you walk, how you laugh, how much space you're allowed to take up.” I held her gaze. "You deserve someone who appreciates you for who you are.”
Hannah's breath hitched. Her fingers tightened on my shoulder, and the air between us became charged with something I didn’t want to name.
"Grim—"
"I mean it."
She searched my face like she was trying to decide whether to believe me. Finally, she nodded and rested her head against my shoulder again.
After our dance, Lyra came by and asked if she could borrow Hannah for official wedding business. I returned to our table and checked my phone.
Hannah: I’m starting to think Grim might not actually hate me.
I read the message twice before replying.
Me: What gave you that idea?
Hannah: He danced with me without looking miserable.
Me: That’s some strong evidence.
A moment later, another message appeared.
Hannah: He also said I don't need fixing.
I stared at the screen, then typed carefully:
Me: He's right.
Hannah started across the room and glanced at her phone. She looked up, and I deliberately held her gaze.
She didn't know. She thought Everett was telling me things about her. She was flustered because she thought I'd been given information, not because she'd noticed she was giving it to me herself.
I could come clean at any time. Hell, I should come clean. But something held me back.
At the end of the evening, I took Hannah back to the cabin she’d rented on my bike.
She wrapped her arms around me tighter than she had before. I was well aware of every place she touched: her hands at my waist, her thighs bracketing mine, and her chest pressed to my back.
When I cut the engine, we sat still for several beats. I didn’t want the night to end.
Hannah climbed off and removed the helmet. Her hair had tangled, and I reached out without thinking, smoothing a few pieces away from her face.
Her eyes locked on mine. Then her gaze dropped to my mouth.
I started to lean toward her. She didn't step back. The space between us shrank until I could feel her breath against my lips.
Then I remembered Everett saying I was the one man he trusted with his sister.
I stopped.
Hannah covered the awkward moment with a breathless laugh. "Well. Good night."
But I saw the disappointment in her eyes before she turned away. "Good night, Hannah."
As I prepared to ride away, my phone buzzed.
Hannah: I almost did something stupid tonight.
I stared at the message for a long moment before replying.
Me: Almost?
I might not be capable of keeping my promise to Everett through the entire wedding weekend.