5. Hannah
HANNAH
I'd been up for an hour before I made myself look at my phone.
Coffee came first, followed by two painkillers for the headache I'd earned by not getting a good night’s sleep. I took a long shower and got dressed in a yellow sundress for Saturday's bridal brunch.
I took my time doing my makeup then pinned my hair back the way Lyra wanted for the day's photos.
I did all of that before I looked at my phone. Because I already knew what was on it.
The almost-kiss, I remembered clearly. That part I wouldn't have taken back if I could. But what I'd done afterward… sitting on the cabin porch past midnight, still buzzing from the bike ride, still able to smell Grim's cologne on the shoulder of my dress… that part I’d gladly erase.
I sat on the edge of the bed and opened the thread.
The timestamps told the story of a woman who couldn't leave well enough alone.
Me: I’m starting to think Grim might not actually hate me.
Everett: What gave you that idea?
Me: He danced with me without looking miserable.
I groaned and kept reading.
Me: Okay fine. My old crush on your best friend isn't as dead as I told you it was.
Everett: Define "old."
Me: Tenth grade? Maybe earlier. I don't remember when it started. Just that I stopped admitting it out loud after he made it clear he couldn’t stand being in the same room as me.
Everett: And now?
Me: Now I kind of wanted him to kiss me tonight.
I dropped the phone onto my chest and stared at the ceiling.
Everett would tease me about this for the rest of my natural life. Possibly beyond. He'd find a way to include it in my eulogy.
Hopefully, he'd get over it eventually. And hopefully he’d never tell Grim.
I sat up, pushed my hair out of my face, and decided not to think about it anymore. I had bridesmaid duties to fulfill and a full day of avoiding James while pretending Grim hadn't stopped himself from kissing me last night.
The morning wedding activities were happening back at the ranch where Lyra and Carson would exchange vows tomorrow afternoon.
The venue sprawled across acres of rolling hills, with a restored barn used for wedding-week setup, a ceremony site overlooking the valley, and a back lawn cleared for the reception.
Lyra had organized a brunch for the wedding party, followed by a final walkthrough and photo session. I arrived early to help set up, carrying boxes of decorations from my car to the barn.
Grim showed up twenty minutes later.
He had on jeans and a dark henley, his sleeves pushed to his elbows. The casual version of him shouldn't have been more emotionally devastating than the suited version, but somehow it was.
He caught my eye across the barn and nodded.
I nodded back and returned my attention to the floral arrangements. But I was acutely aware of him throughout the morning. Where he stood. Who he spoke to. How many times he checked his phone.
I pulled out my own phone and opened the message thread with Everett.
Me: He keeps looking at his phone. Who is he texting?
I watched Grim glance down at his screen. His jaw tightened slightly. Then he typed something and returned the phone to his pocket.
My phone buzzed.
Everett: You.
I stared at the message.
Read it twice.
Then I scrolled to the top of the thread and looked at the contact name for the first time since I'd opened it this morning.
Evan.
Not Everett.
Evan.
Time stood still. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel my fingers any more.
I scrolled through the entire conversation. Every confession. Every vulnerable admission. Every ridiculous, wine-soaked observation.
Me: I think Grim might actually like me.
Me: He said I don't need fixing.
Me: The old crush isn't as dead as I told you it was.
Me: I wanted him to kiss me last night.
Horror washed over me in cold, relentless waves. I waited until I could breathe again, then crossed the barn slowly, my phone clutched in one hand.
Grim watched me approach. His expression remained neutral, but tension radiated from his shoulders.
"How long have you known?" I asked.
He didn't pretend to misunderstand.
"Somewhere on the ride over Friday morning," he said. "The messages didn't quite fit. I wasn't sure until I got to the turnoff for the cabin, but I was mostly sure."
"But you kept coming."
"Yeah."
"Why?"
Grim's gaze held mine. "Because you needed someone. Whoever you'd meant to text, you needed somebody this weekend."
"That's not the real reason."
He paused. "No."
"What was?"
"I wanted it to be me."
The truth sucked all the breath right out of my lungs.
"You could have told me at the door," I said. "Before I let you inside. Before you almost kissed me."
"I know."
He didn't try to make excuses.
I wasn’t sure how angry I should be. He'd let me believe I was confessing to Everett when he knew the truth. He'd responded as himself while allowing me to think he was my brother.
But anger wouldn't come. Under all the embarrassment and confusion, I realized something else. I'd wanted him to kiss me last night.
I still wanted him to kiss me now.
And this time, there were no misunderstandings between us.
"I'm not going to think about the timing right now," I finally said.
Grim's brows pulled together. "Hannah?—"
"I mean it. I'll think about it later. After the wedding." I stepped closer. "But right now, knowing everything, I still want you to kiss me."
His expression changed. The tension eased from his shoulders, replaced by something deliberate and focused. "You're sure?"
"Yes."
He cupped my face in both of his hands, his palms warm and rough against my skin. He paused for half a second, giving me a chance to change my mind.
I didn't.
When his mouth met mine, every reason I'd ever had for not doing this disappeared at once. His hands cradled my jaw, and his lips moved painfully slow, drawing out the moment. Under the coffee and the warm-skin smell of him, I could taste every year we'd spent not doing this.
I reached up and fisted my hands in his shirt, pulling him closer.
He made a low sound in his chest and deepened the kiss. One hand slid to the back of my neck, his fingers threading through my hair. The other stayed against my jaw, his thumb brushing my cheek.
I'd imagined kissing Grim before. Years ago, when I was young enough to believe wanting something might make it happen. But none of those fantasies had prepared me for the reality.
He tasted like coffee and something darker. Something I'd been missing without knowing it.
When we finally broke apart, I couldn’t catch my breath.
Grim rested his forehead against mine, his breathing uneven. "Hannah?—"
"Later," I repeated. "We'll talk about everything later."
I promised myself I'd think about it after the wedding. I'd ask him why he hadn't corrected me sooner. I'd decide whether the lie bothered me enough to matter.
But not yet.
Right now, I just wanted to stand here with his hands still cradling my face and the taste of him lingering on my lips.
The wedding could wait. Everything else could wait.