Chapter 6
Six
Sean
She gave me the fucking slip.
Wouldn’t be the first time. Right before the playoffs this past season, she went to Europe for over a month on what Aiden called a “solo sabbatical.” Not knowing where she was, or if she was safe, drove me just as crazy as not seeing her every day.
I’m not going through that again. I wonder what she’s gonna say when I show up at her vacation rental.
Pulling up to the house in the middle of the desert, I turn off the jeep and grab my luggage out of the back.
The gravel crunches under my shoes as I roll my suitcase up the path toward the front door.
Moving closer to the stucco house, I catch a whiff of something that smells awful and my nose wrinkles at the smell.
I ignore the scent, chalking it up to something other than what I think it is, and take the few steps leading up to the door.
Here we fucking go.
I knock once, then allow myself in. “Honey, I’m home.”
Greeted with silence, I roll my suitcase against the wall in the entryway and set out to look for Hannah, but she’s nowhere to be found.
Music drifts inside from the backyard, and I can tell by the beat that she’s listening to 80’s pop.
I should leave her to it since it’s her way of connecting to her mom, but leaving her alone isn’t what I came all this way to do.
I slide open the patio door and step out into the backyard. “Hi, Sweetheart.”
She jolts—eyes wide—and like a busted teenager, she tries to hide the joint clamped between her fingertips.
What the fuck?
“You know it’s illegal to smoke weed in Utah?”
“Good thing you’re not the police,” she fires back. “How’d you find me?”
“I have my ways.”
Tilting my head to the side, I study her with my arms crossed against my chest. “What’s going on with you? Weed? Really?”
She takes a slow drag, holds my gaze, then blows smoke right in my direction. “Well, you see, I had a feeling you’d show up here, and I thought to myself, I’m gonna need to get high for this shit.”
I lower myself into the chair nestled next to the table separating us. Resting both elbows on my thighs, I lean forward, then turn my head to look into her glossy, red-rimmed eyes. She stares back, detached.
Plucking the joint from between her fingers earns me a glare, but I crush the end into the ashtray anyway, not giving a single fuck.
“This is stupid, Hannah.”
“Never claimed to be smart.”
“I understand you’ve been angry with me, and for good reasons. But the bitterness, doing stupid shit like going to a sex club and now this . . .” I hold up the joint. “It’s not like you.”
A piece of hair hangs in front of her face, and she blows it out of her eyes. “Not every fucking thing is about you, Sean. And people change.”
“Not like this.”
Avoiding eye contact, she stares out over the pool in the backyard, a turquoise hue dancing across her features.
“What would you know about the ins and outs of people? You don’t give a rip about anyone but yourself, isn’t that right, Mac?
” She laughs under her breath and shakes her head.
“I take that back. You care about yourself and whatever next piece of ass falls into your new bed, but only for the time they’re in it.
How are those new restraints working out for you?
” I go to open my mouth to tell her I bought that bed for her, but she cuts me off.
“You know what? I really don’t care to know. Fucking leave.”
She stands to go inside, but I grab her by the hand and pull her into my lap. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”
“Since when do you get to demand answers from me?” she snaps, glaring at me.
“Since the day you became mine.”
Rolling her eyes, she tries to stand again, but I hold her in place. She grabs my wrists, digging her nails into them, and demands through clenched teeth, “Let go of me!”
“Keep fighting, sweetheart, you know it makes my dick hard. Now fucking tell me, what the hell has gotten into you?”
Shoulders slumping, she hangs her head without answering the question. After a long bout of silence, her voice draws my attention away from the coyotes howling somewhere in the distance.
“I’m so damn angry with you,” she says, though she sounds more defeated than angry.
“It’s almost as if you don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me either.
I was willing to give us another chance after you ended things.
You told me you wanted me back, then you stood in that parking lot and let me walk back into the gala without you, never once proving a damn thing, other than the fact that you don’t appreciate others playing with your toys.
Which was reiterated when you stormed into Elixir the other night.
Then you sabotaged Aiden’s coffee so he couldn’t come here with me.
Do you realize how fucked up that is? I needed him, Sean! ”
Envy floods my veins. Their friendship has always been an insecurity for me. Like the other night when she called him . . . he’s the first person she calls when things go sideways, and without fail, he’s always quick to drop everything and come running to her.
Hannah’s voice breaks me from my thoughts. “This entire trip was planned to take my mind off things before the doctors remove the last organ that makes me feel like a woman, and you ruined it.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“I have a genetic mutation that causes cancer; it’s called brCA1. The marijuana you caught me smoking is medicinal. My oncologist suggested that THC might help with the stress and anxiety of it all.”
Everything fucking stops. Sound. Movement. My fucking heart.
“On-Oncologist?”
“I don’t have cancer . . . that’s what my team of doctors are trying to prevent.
” She picks at her shirt; the cotton pulls away from her chest, then falls back into place.
“They’ve already taken my breasts. There’s nothing under here except a sports bra with prosthetic inserts.
And soon the doctors will take my ovaries and uterus too.
My body doesn’t look the same. I’m not the same.
I will never be the same. Stop wasting your time. Go back to New York.”
I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t speak.
She looks away, and I swear to God, I’ve never felt so much pain in my fucking life.
My chest squeezes so tight it steals the air from my lungs.
Something wet rolls over my cheeks, and I wipe it away.
An indicator that she means way more than I ever allowed her to believe.
Fuck, if I’m being honest, she means more than I allowed myself to believe.
I don’t cry. For anyone. Yet here I am, a man broken by her confession.
“Please leave,” she says, her voice cracking.
“Dammit, Hannah, I’m not leaving you,” I argue, holding her tighter and resting my chin on top of her head.
“This week is about me, not me and you,” she says, pulling away from me. “It’s been a long day. Stay or don’t. At this point, I don’t care. I’m too tired to fight with you about it.”
My hands trail down her thighs as she stands and looks at me with so much damn sadness in her eyes it makes me physically ill. Then she walks through the door without a backward glance.
Fuck!
Why fucking her? She’s the kindest person I’ve ever met, with such a pure heart.
Always smiling. Always pleasing everyone.
Doing whatever she can to make everybody else happy.
Rage fills me at the unfairness of all of this, and I swipe my hand across the table, sending the ashtray flying.
It lands on the concrete patio with a crash, and I bury my head in my hands.
FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
Dragging my hands down my face, I let out a sigh and stare out at the pool. She’s been bitter and quick to lash out since she came back from her sabbatical. I thought it was just me but . . . I pull my phone out of my pocket and press the call button.
“Oh, look, it’s my pharmacist.”
“Cut the shit, Aiden. How long have you known about Hannah?”
Standing, I cross the concrete path toward the pool. Silence fills the line as I pace back and forth, then he finally breathes out an, “Oh, fuuuck.”
“Yeah, ‘Oh, fuck.’ I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“Maybe if you would’ve listened to her instead of breaking things off under assumptions, she would’ve had the opportunity to tell you herself.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Doesn’t matter now. What matters is that you don’t say anything to anyone else about this. With the exception of Cam and me, ‘cause we’re the ones who took care of her after her surgery, nobody else knows—not even Coach.”
“What do you mean Coach doesn’t . . .” I trail off. The other end of the line is quiet as the puzzle pieces start clicking together. “She never went to Europe. The sabbatical was a ruse, wasn’t it?”
Silence.
“That’s some fucked up shit to keep from him, Aiden.”
“Well, that’s her conviction, Sean.”
“She’s not doing this alone anymore. That ends now.”
“She hasn’t been doing it alone.”
“She’s been doing it without me, goddammit!” I yell, mad at him, mad at myself, mad at the whole fucking world.
“Hannah needs this week without your shit. Be there for her and stop the hostile takeover.”
“Don’t tell me how to take care of her.”
“Then take care of her, and I won’t have to.”
Pressing the end button, I shove the phone back into my pocket. I don’t need him reminding me of all the ways I fucked up; the back and forth I put her through. Letting her get close, then pushing her away. He knows I’ve been working to make things right.
When I finally drag my ass inside to find a room to sleep in, I see Hannah through the cracked opening of her bedroom door, standing at a dresser in a pair of pale, pink pajamas, both hands gripping the wood, and her head hanging in defeat.
She sniffs, quickly wiping her face with the back of her hand, then lifts her chin and stares at herself in the mirror.
Do I try to comfort her, or do I give her space? I don’t know how to navigate this.
“Why now?” she whispers to herself, releasing a sob.
I push the door open, and as it creaks, she startles and folds her arms against her chest. Turning away, she hides herself from me, and why wouldn’t she? I never made her feel safe.
“You deserved more than I gave you,” I say, knowing she wasn’t talking to me, but I feel the need to answer anyway.
Leaning against the doorframe with my hands tucked into my pockets, I continue.
“You were wrong when you said I haven’t done a damn thing to prove anything to you.
I’ve spent these past seven months working on myself and fighting like hell to become the man you’d be proud to be with.
Just because you haven’t noticed the strides I’ve made doesn’t mean I haven’t been making them. ”
Dejected by her silence, I release a sigh and close the distance.
I start to reach for her but stop myself before my fingers can even graze the air between us.
I want to feel her soft skin under my fingertips.
To press my chest to her back and see if she’ll lean into me like she used to.
To wrap myself around her, bury my nose in her hair, and breathe her in until we both stop feeling like we’re falling apart on the inside.
I want her back. In every selfish, fucked-up way, I want her fucking back.
But this isn’t about me.
“I know it’s not enough, but I’m sorry, Hannah. I’m so fucking sorry for everything.”
Without another word, I leave her room, closing the door behind me, and as I lie in my bed, I decide space is not what Hannah Jenkins needs. It’s what she thinks she needs, but I know her better than that. What my girl needs is to be consumed, and that’s exactly what I plan to do.