Chapter 1 #2
He flashed a cocky smile, earning a huff and an eyeroll from Hanna.
“I knew you’d be an arrogant bastard, you know that? You just have that look.”
“I’ve heard that a time or two,” he said, a low, rumbling laugh reverberating off the bar top.
Hanna reached into her purse and tossed a twenty down, drowning her final sips, and then reached for his glass. Milo covered her hand, the weight of his a shock to her very lonely system.
“I could have just bought you a drink. All you had to do was say please.”
She leaned close to him, catching those green eyes with her own fiery stare.
“I’m bored.”
She marched out of the bar and into the harsh evening sunset, her season-old espadrilles crunching in the gravel parking lot. Sara might have had a point in sending someone to collect her, after all. Her head swirled, and not entirely from the temperature.
She tapped across her phone, opening her Uber app and scrolling to find the Rodriguezes’ address. The app thought, and then thought some more.
“Damn,” she whispered. Was there really no one hanging around waiting to rescue a slightly bitter bridesmaid from her best friend’s hot groomsman?
“Suns game,” Milo said behind her.
Hanna spun, whipping her dark curls around as the rest of the parking lot followed on a delay. Everything wobbled. It occurred to her as the world resettled into a somewhat coherent image that she had not eaten since breakfast.
She glared. “What?”
“There’s a Suns game. You’re not getting a ride anytime soon.”
“Then I’ll walk,” she huffed, starting off in the general direction of Sara’s childhood home, only for her ankle to immediately roll.
Milo’s hands caught her elbow, steadying her body, but boiling her blood. The muscles in his forearm flexed against her and she willed herself not to think about the way the veins pulled under black rivers of ink.
You’re pathetic, she chastised herself.
“We got off on the wrong foot,” Milo murmured. They both scrunched their noses at the pun. “Bad phrasing.”
Hanna pulled her elbow from his grip, smoothing the coral ruffle of her sundress.
He waved toward his rental car. “If you’d like to drop your attitude, I’d love to take you to your best friend’s engagement party now. And maybe get some food in your system.”
Hanna stared for a few beats, wrestling with the asshole in her head who wanted to go another round or two. But the rumble in her stomach needed him more than she needed her pride.
She threw her hands up in defeat and followed him to a silver sedan, sliding gracelessly into the front seat. Her thighs stuck to the hot leather as the open back of her dress betrayed her, fusing her skin to the interior.
“Who gets leather in Arizona in May?” she asked. He didn't answer, which was probably for the best.
His forearm tensed as he reversed from the parking spot. Her eyes landed on the tattoos stretching across his skin while the beiges and oranges of suburban Phoenix blurred through the window. She noticed a clock, inked in gray and black shadows, that fell over the ten and six on its melting face.
“AM or PM?” she blurted.
“Hmm?”
“Your clock tattoo. Morning or night?”
Milo unleashed a smirk, glancing at her quickly as he wound through the Rodriguezes’ picturesque subdivision.
Is he capable of another facial expression? she thought.
“AM.”
Hanna nodded. “Cool.”
“Cool?”
“Yep,” she said. He stared ahead, likely waiting for a follow-up question, but she didn’t feel the need to know more. “I’m not going to ask for the story.” She heard how bratty it came off, but it was too late, and she was too drunk.
He shrugged. “I’m not going to tell it.”
“Good,” she said, folding her arms.
“Hanna,” Milo sighed. “You’re wasted. I can’t let you go in there like this. We’re still a little early. Please, let me get you something to eat.”
Hanna shook her head, the lights on the dashboard blending into one large tunnel of color.
“No, no, no. I just need Cami’s enchilada casserole. It heals all ailments, I swear.”
She attempted a look to convey just how serious she was about her favorite comfort dish, but Milo was clearly skeptical as he slowed the car to a stop outside of a sprawling ranch-style home with a bubbling fountain in the front.
He cut off the engine, but before he could even swing his door open, Hanna was up and off, brushing quickly through the gate and reaching for the handle of the front door.
Any drunk confidence that propelled her through the yard had vanished by the time she got to the threshold, the sounds of a buzzing family gathering striking a chord somewhere in her memories.
Her fingers lingered on the bronze of the funeral home’s bathroom door, the next room over humming with thoughts and prayers.
A wave of panic gripped her throat—not just about seeing Logan, but seeing everyone. She’d spent the last year holed up in her home like a hermit, dreading the day she’d have to make her public debut again.
The universe was cruel for shoving two of her biggest heartbreaks into one calendar year.
It wasn’t Logan’s fault her mom got sick and died two months after he shattered her entire world. No one could have predicted it.
But still.
Who else was there to blame?
She hesitated for another moment, long enough for Milo to catch up to her.
“You ready for this, Arizona?”
She inhaled, holding the breath longer than necessary. He leaned around her and pushed the front door open, arching his brows.
“Fuck you,” she muttered.
“Say please,” he bit, his hand pushing against the small of her back and forcing her into the house.