8. Hannah
8
Hannah
Hannah’s heart raced as she jogged after Ginger and Snaps and Jason. The two black mastiffs ran at full speed down the sidewalk, and it was all Jason could do to hold onto the leashes.
“Are you okay?” she called.
He raised his thumb in the air but kept his attention forward. Once they made it to the dog park, the dogs would be tired enough to rest, but until then, it was going to be a struggle.
She brought her fingers to her lips and whistled. The dogs stilled midstep. It was a trick she had taught them early into their walks, but the halt usually only lasted long enough for her to catch her breath.
Holding the leash to his knees, Jason gasped for air. “Wha—how did you—”
The sound of his voice distracted Ginger, and she started running again.
“Hold her tight,” she called.
He groaned and sped up his sprint. When he’d told her right before they left the house that he never worked out at a gym, she worried he wouldn’t be able to keep up. But so far, even in work clothes, he had mostly stayed by her side.
The day had been full of surprises.
She brought her uninjured hand to her face and remembered the touch of his soft skin against hers. His tender act of kindness had meant everything to her, even more so because she could see the internal struggle in his eyes. As the doctor pulled layer after layer of dead skin away, she was too enamored with his hands to notice any pain. Even his fingernails were perfectly taken care of.
She flexed her fingers and then balled them at her side—something she’d seen him do a dozen times—trying to see what the appeal was. But after a few seconds, she released her fist and spread her fingers out toward the sun. She lifted her injured hand above her head. With less blood being pumped to her fingers, it relieved some of the pressure. The wind in her face, the sound of dogs barking, and Jason grunting—they were her favorite sounds of the day.
She could’ve easily caught up to him, but she gave him plenty of space. And before they got to the park, she whistled again and gave him another breather.
“Thanks,” he said when she explained her trick.
“I wish they’d stay still for longer, but you start to appreciate the ten seconds they give you.”
“You do this every day?”
She shook her head. “No, just on my PE days. I’m already sweaty and in workout clothes. Well, I guess that’s changed now that I work in your office, but usually I wear my yoga clothes all day.”
He wiped the sweat from his brow and held his stomach with his other hand. “You’re amazing.”
She opened her mouth in surprise. “Thanks.”
“I mean, to have the energy you have to do all the things you do in a day—it’s amazing. ”
She nodded. Of course, he hadn’t meant it any other way.
“Want me to take a turn?”
He inclined his head toward her hand elevated above her head. “I don’t think you’re quite ready. Plus, I think I’m doing all right.”
“You are. I’m surprised. I worried you wouldn’t be able to keep up, but something inside you must want to run.”
“I always wanted to run track in high school.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Just . . . didn’t want to be around people.”
“That’s too bad. You’re awesome.”
His eyes locked with hers, and she shivered as warmth spread from her head to her toes. “Thank you, Jason.”
The dogs were up and moving again. It was another few minutes before they were allowed to rest. Once they made it to the park, they unleashed the two dogs and the dogs took to the green grass, rolling around like they’d never felt it.
Hannah pulled a Frisbee out of her backpack, and the two dogs were on their feet. She sent it spinning away with her good hand and sat back to rest.
“They have so much energy.” He wiped at a line of sweat as it ran across his forehead. Doing so drenched his arm. Bad idea.
“I know it was a lot to ask, but thanks for going with me. I feel bad that they have to be locked inside all day, but they’re really great dogs for Jack and Annie. They’re rescue dogs and have become a big part of their family.”
“Do they pay you much to walk them?”
“Pay me? Ah, no. This is something I’ve done for years. Whenever they have a few extra dollars, they force me to take them, but I do it as a service.”
He studied her. “That’s incredible, what you do for them.”
“I have a selfish reason. I get a high from helping others, and it helps me release my pent-up energy.” She grabbed the Frisbee when Snaps brought it to her and flung it away again.
“Can you tell me more about being a seeker?”
She raised a brow. “I’m surprised you remember, after all the excitement.”
He shrugged. “Not something you hear every day.”
“Well, I guess I’ve always been a little overactive. Like I said, it drove my parents and every other adult who was responsible for me a little crazy. I think that’s why my parents keep their distance. I can be a little overwhelming.”
“I don’t think you are,” he said softly.
She turned her head to the side. “Really? Because I could swear a few days ago—pre-injury—you were telling me how annoying my tapping and fidgeting was.”
“I didn’t say it like that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
He nodded and grabbed the Frisbee, flicking it away with ease. He looked at his slobbered-on hands and groaned.
“Ahh.” She pulled sanitizer out of her bag and laid it on the grass next to him. “It’s necessary for walks.”
“Thanks.” He picked up the small plastic bottle and pumped a few squirts into his hands. When the Frisbee returned, he crossed his arms. “Sorry, I just can’t.”
“It’s all right.” She grabbed the Frisbee and flung it away. “I’ve got it.”
She rubbed her hand on the grass to wipe away the slobber.
“See?” he said. “How can you do that?”
“What?”
“Your hand against the grass?”
She rubbed the tops of the grass, loving the tickling sensation it gave her. “I love grass. And all things, really. Chalk is my favorite. Oh, and those rubber playground balls. Those are magic to my fingers. ”
He shuddered and looked away.
“There must be something you like to touch.”
His eyes fell to her hand and then back up to her eyes. “Not a lot. I do have one blanket at home.”
“Only one?”
“Practically. I usually don’t like the feel of blankets. They’re scratchy after being used and washed a lot. But this one’s been soft for years. It’s like the softest velvet I’ve ever felt.”
“Ooh, that would be nice. Any fabrics bother you?”
“I’ve gotten used to a lot of things and have grown out of hating some things. I used to be unable to wear jeans. And ties were especially hard.”
She looked down at his pants. He’d chosen against changing out of his dress pants, although she was sure he was regretting it now.
“But I eventually got used to uncomfortable clothes, and now I feel secure in the things I’ve gotten used to.”
“Hmm, interesting how that works.”
“What?”
“I wonder if because you’ve gotten used to them, it’s grown your confidence in that one thing. And then you find security in it because you trust it.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess.”
“What about people? You seem unable to touch people.”
He sighed and looked straight ahead. “People are a different story. When I was younger, my parents took me to doctors and counselors, hoping to find answers for their weird son . They never gave me a full diagnosis because my parents became too embarrassed. They threw around phrases like sensory processing disorder , tactile defensiveness , and hypersensitivity . When I got into high school, I did a project on hyperesthesia and confirmed with my doctors that’s what my sensitivity had morphed into.” He ran his hands over the grass, stopped, and then started again.
“You don’t seem as sensitive to cold or heat or even objects.”
“I’ve overcome most of that, but I still struggle. But you’re right. Mostly, it’s just touching skin.” He looked down at her hand again. “Which is why I’m so curious over what happened today.”
She looked down too, her cheeks full of heat.
“May I?”
She looked up to see him holding out his hand to her. “You want to hold my hand?”
“Yes... and no. I just want to test something.”
She shrugged, wanting to feel the sensation of his smooth skin again. Not wanting to appear too eager, she raised her hand slowly. He stared at it for a long time before he finally took it. At first, he held it in his hand as if he was examining it. He turned it over and touched each of her fingers. But then he held it softly, rubbing his thumb across the top of her hand.
Shivers rolled through her.
“It’s so odd,” he said to himself.
“What?” Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper.
He opened his hand, and she did the same. Then he slipped his fingers through hers. It was like romance in slow motion. Every nerve in her body hummed and zinged and whizzed. “This feels different,” he said.
“I’ve always loved holding hands.”
He looked down at their joined fingers and frowned. “Not me. Not usually.”
Before she could ask what he meant by that, the dogs came running toward them again, and Jason released his grip, brought his hands back to his lap, and balled them into fists .
The moment was gone too soon, and she was left wanting more.
He heaved a heavy sigh as the dogs gave up trying to get their Frisbee thrown and rolled around in the grass instead.
“I guess everyone’s got something wrong with them, and this is just my lot in life.”
He spoke with such sadness that she almost reached over and patted his leg, or better yet, took his hand again. But she gripped the grass around her and pulled.
“Instead of thinking that there’s something wrong with me—like my parents tried to convince me of for years—I like to think of myself as gifted, special even. I have something that makes me unique from all the billions of people who have lived on this planet. And that is pretty cool.”
He hummed to himself. “That’s one way to look at it, I guess.”
With the dogs settled on either side of her, she dared to ask, “How was it, holding my hand?” Her heart raced as she waited for him to answer, but her hard-earned courage was rewarded.
“Surprising.”
“Really?”
He nodded and studied her. “It’s the oddest thing. It was painful at first, and then kind of a numb feeling, but then I focused on your calluses, and the pain went away.”
She cringed as she looked at the thick bumps of hardened skin on her palms. Calluses? How romantic.
“Well,” she said, “I guess it’s a step. Maybe we just need to test things out a little more.”
She pointed her index finger at him, and he nearly toppled forward.
She got in a poke and laughed.
“Hey,” he said, poking her back.
She stared at his finger. “You just touched me! ”
He laughed. “Yeah, so?” Then his mouth dropped open, and he stared at his finger. “Yes, I did! Which means...” He pointed his finger at her again.
“Oh, no you don’t,” she said, squirming away.
The dogs jumped and barked around them as they took turns poking each other. His touches were light, and she was careful to give him time between hers. It was the most fun she had had in a while, poking someone’s side. To anyone else, it would have felt like kid’s play, but for Jason it had to be a significant moment. It was a step in the right direction... for both of them.