Chapter 3
Derek
She was beautiful.
More than ever before, more than I could remember. She walked in like she owned the place, and she very well could have. I’d give her the world if she would let me. Hannah’s gaze fell on me, the bitterness in her eyes darkening them even more, the hatred palpable. Another person would have been scared, terrified.
This was Hannah in her element.
This was the Hannah that wrecked everyone.
I brought her back to life by causing her pain, by breaking her heart.
It didn’t matter though. She was a complicated riddle I wanted to solve, a book that I knew front to back, as if I was her author. She held my gaze and I smirked when her expression faltered when I spoke.
“Alright, Hannah. Let’s talk.”
Her throat moved as she swallowed and I fought the urge to walk up to her and caress her, to feel her skin against my hand and see how much she really wanted this fight. We’d both lose, of that I had no doubt. We were doomed from the start—two broken souls who just happened to find each other, hoping they could heal the other.
She would be my undoing.
Hannah’s feet moved and she walked over to the sofa, dropping her purse on it but not sitting. She was quiet, eyes roaming the office, studying the place after months of not being there. My eyes skimmed her body.
Her hair was shorter, but it suited the beautiful features of her face. There was a strength about her, something I couldn’t pinpoint. She was angry, yes, but something was different. Something had changed.
“What do you want, Derek? Why are you back?”
The word was at the tip of my tongue.
You.
I want you.
Though I didn’t say it, her cheeks reddened, and she turned away, looking toward the desk behind me. I shook my head, letting out a breath. I wished she made it easy to pretend nothing ever happened between us, easy to erase our past, but she didn’t, not when she stood there, tension radiating from every cell of her body and colliding with mine.
“I’m sober,” I shrugged after a few seconds. “I figured I needed to come back and make amends like they told me in rehab. That’s all.”
Liar.
She raised an eyebrow, her mask firm, though I could see the cracks forming when a hint of pain shone through her eyes. “Like that will fix everything? You think it’ll numb the pain? Help everyone forget the damage?”
“Of course not. It’s a start though.”
Hannah shook her head as a quiet scoff escaped her lips.
“You have some nerve, showing up, pretending like nothing happened. Like we all owe you a chance back in our lives. It’s bullshit, Derek. You’re full of bullshit.”
Ah, the bitterness in her words stung, but I took it, glad that the rage was there. Something was better than nothing.
“I’m not asking for a chance back into your life,” I said, taking a step toward her. Her eyes widened, full of an emotion I couldn’t place. Her walls weren’t sturdy, I could see it. But I wouldn’t tear them down. Not yet. “I’m saying I’m sorry.”
She let out a shaky breath, a glimpse of pain flashing in her expression. She was there, somewhere, the Hannah I knew. The Hannah that trusted me. I wasn’t sure where the hell she kept her, but she was there, hiding.
Scared.
I continued, walking to her and stood in front of her, gaze unwavering. We were a hand width apart, her quiet breaths filling the air, her eyes looking up at me with a swirl of emotions she didn’t even understand, but she didn’t step away.
“I’m sorry for accusing you of betraying me again. I’m sorry for accusing you of stealing. I know it wasn’t you. I know it was wrong, and I’m fucking sorry for hurting you. I never meant to do it but clearly, I still had some unresolved issues just beneath the surface...it’s not an excuse, but like you once said, we’re products of our environment.”
Her lip quivered, her eyes shone with tears and finally, she looked away, blinking rapidly as she took a step back. I watched her as she tried to hold herself together. She didn’t say anything for minutes, hours perhaps, and all I could do was watch her.
“So what?” Her attention turned to me again, the cracks in her armor visible, but the damn thing was still there. “Forgive and forget?”
“Or in your case forgive and move on.” I stunned her again. She shook her head, biting her bottom lip as her hands fidgeted with the sleeves of her long sleeve shirt. “You can move on, Hannah. You should. That way you don’t have to pretend to be the woman standing in front of me with her guard up.”
She scoffed. “I don’t have my guard up.”
“Of course you do. You forget how well I know you.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Sure I do. That’s why I know this is all an act and inside you’re breaking. Inside you’re not angry but hurt. Pretend all you want. I know you like the palm of my fucking hand. I know you better than you know yourself.”
Her lip curled. “Well congratulations. Do you need a prize? An award? Because I don’t have one for you. I have nothing for you.”
It was my turn to look at her in disbelief. The woman had buttons and I just pushed a whole lot of them, igniting a fire in her that would scorch us both.
“Take your apologies, Derek. I don’t need them. I don’t want them.”
“You sure as hell deserve them, though. And I’m man enough to admit it.”
Her jaw clenched. I wanted to fuck the anger out of her, then remind her how much I loved her. If she let me I would, but she was too damn proud. Too fucking hurt.
“Stay away from me, Derek.” Her words were quiet. A whisper that carried through the air and sucked the breath out of my lungs.
“As you wish,” I bit out.
“I’m serious. You and I—we’re nothing. We have nothing together. Never should have. We were a disaster in the making, from the time we met all those years ago.”
I ran a hand through my hair, gripping at the ends, hoping the goddamn tightness in my chest would disappear but it didn’t. It amplified as she continued.
“I’m glad you’re sober, Derek. But I’ve started a life without you in it, and I would like to keep it that way. You have no part in it now, so thanks for apologizing, but I don’t want to hear it. Just stay away from me. Pretend I don’t exist. Walk away like you did that day. Erase me from your memory like I erased you from mine.”
I scoffed. “Looks to me like you’re the one full of bullshit. If you’d erased me from your memory, you wouldn’t be here.”
She was fighting. I could see it, and Hannah wasn’t one to give up. But she walked to the sofa, picking her purse and headed straight to the door. She was going to leave just as fast as she arrived, but I wouldn’t let her. I still had one more thing to say, one more question to ask.
One question that was in the back of my head every drunken day and sleepless night.
“The night you went to talk to me in my apartment. You said something. I was drunk and everything is a haze, but you said something that hasn’t left me since that day.” She stopped in her tracks, her body turning rigid, her hand on the doorknob.
She didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
“I may have been drunk. I may have not been myself, but you said you were pregnant. I remember it clearly.”
She was frozen, her grip around the doorknob tight. The breath was knocked out of my body at the idea that there was a child out there that was mine, my blood, the product of my relationship with Hannah that I didn’t know. Hannah turned around, her lips tilting up into a sad smile before she shook her head.
“You were drunk, Derek,” was her quiet reply. “Who’s to say what else you thought you heard?”
She left then, leaving utter silence and destruction as she slammed the door shut.
***
It was a dark night. Figuratively speaking. New York was always alight, it was the city that never slept after all, but all the lights seemed dimmer. The buildings seemed smaller.
And the thing in my chest that kept beating to her fucking rhythm felt weaker.
I rubbed my hands together as I walked into the AA meeting because I needed it. That night more than any other night. Seeing Hannah, hearing her left me incapacitated with anxiety. With guilt.
I thought I had one weakness—alcohol.
But alcohol was a rookie compared to her.
She held too much power over me, more than she knew. I’d set myself on fire if it made her happy, if it took that sadness and resentment away.
And she didn’t even have to be with me.
I didn’t want her to be if it made her unhappy.
It would make me miserable but if her happiness was elsewhere, I would accept it. I sat on a chair reserved for me, next to Lisa as the group acknowledged me with a single nod and someone else continued talking.
If I had learned something was that facing demons head on was the most draining thing anyone could do. It was a never-ending fight, one that not everyone won.
Lisa offered me a small smile, squeezing my hand and not letting go. She never did.
I listened to advice.
Listened to the stories.
You’d find a million stories like ours, of people trying to free themselves of an addiction holding them down but few would have a happy ending.
Most of them were tragic.
Predictable.
The group looked to me, waiting. I was sure they could see the trouble in my eyes, the darkness that dampened the already dark room, but I didn’t have it in me to speak. Not yet. I just wanted to close my eyes and let sleep pull me under but every time I closed my eyes her words replayed in my head.
“Not today,” I said. They didn’t push and grateful for that, I stood up with Lisa’s arm linked with mine. We walked out together to our apartment complex like we did every Friday, but this time there was no laughter. At least not yet.
Lisa broke the silence first, nudging me with her elbow. “You know...I’m not into girls, but if I was...I would have asked her out. She looked hot.”
I chuckled, shaking my head at her words as she laughed softly next to me.
“How did it go?”
I shrugged. “As well as it could have.”
Lisa hummed, the silence between us bringing out the sound of the cars driving around us. “It’ll end up being okay, Derek. You’ll see.”
I wanted to believe her. Lisa was a bright woman after all, but there was no hope for us. Never had been. She stopped, and I followed suit, looking down at her. Lisa reached up, ruffling my hair before grinning at me.
“You two will find your happiness, Derek. I know you will.”