Chapter 43
love up to the rafters
Hannah
My home is a racket as soon as I step through the door. Water faucet on full blast, stovetop sizzling, voices chattering.
Dubs is the first one I recognize as I pad toward the kitchen. He’s waxing poetic over the plight of Lon Hammond in The Notebook in frightening detail.
“Good night, Chuck, how many times have you seen it?” That’s Bri. If an eye roll could be heard…
He ignores her. “Tell her, Shaw. Tell her I’m right.”
A pan scrapes over a burner. “No can do, man. Never seen it.”
I peek around the corner and take in the scene before anyone notices me.
Rowan’s mom chops bell peppers on a small cutting board from her seat at the dining table, grin bright as she listens to three grown-ass adults bicker like teenagers.
Bri leans against the counter, eyeing Dubs with a smirk.
Rowan shoves food around a skillet at the stove while his friend, hands paused under the faucet, looks back and forth between all of them in horror.
I don’t make my presence known right away—not because I’m shy, but because my house hasn’t felt this full in a long time. Not since we lost Gwyn and Maddy. Since before cancer struck Mom for the first time. It stings more than I expected it to. But it’s also kind of refreshing.
Dubs turns his dubious look on Tess. “Two Point, what kind of house were you running in 2004?”
Tess chuckles. “Don’t know, kiddo. The kind that doesn’t force a nine-year-old boy to watch a depressing love story where they both die in the end.”
Rowan aims his wooden spoon at him. “That.”
“What kind of house did you grow up in?” Bri asks.
“My mother’s a saint.” He flicks the water off his hands, first in Bri’s face, then Rowan’s. “A goddamn saint, you got it? You know who else was a saint?”
“Let me guess,” Bri chirps, voice even. “Lon Ham—”
“Lon effing Hammond, the poor bastard!”
I can’t help the giggle that bursts out of me. Everyone’s collective gaze turns toward the sound, staring for a beat. I’m not sure what to do with my hands so I press them down the front of my pencil dress.
Tess sets aside her knife, reaches for her cane. “Hannah, honey.”
“Oh, please, no. Don’t get up,” I say, rushing over.
I lean down for a hug, meeting Rowan’s eyes behind her. He winks as he flops a dish towel over one shoulder.
“I’m so sorry to impose like this, but thank you for hosting us,” Tess says.
“No need to apologize. I’m happy to have you all.”
Dubs is next, arms flung wide like airplane wings. “Bring it in, champ.” I step into his bear hug. “Mamacita, you’re smokin’ in this dress.”
Rowan spins around.
“Oops. Did I say that too loud?” He grins. Rowan whips him with the towel.
I turn to Bri who pulls me in for a friendly embrace as well. That FaceTime call last week didn’t do her justice. She’s breathtaking. Big brown eyes, same shade as her long hair. Tall but not lanky. Tan complexion. And a smile made for a toothpaste commercial.
“It’s great to meet all of you in person. Please make yourself at home.”
A firm hand wraps around my elbow. “Dubs,” Rowan barks, slamming the spoon in his friend’s chest. “Fajitas.”
The next second, I’m tugged down the hall toward my bedroom as Dubs shouts, “Door stays open, kids!”
Rowan leads me inside and closes the door behind us, leans against it. He removes his ball cap to pull at his hair. Gradually, a laugh begins to weasel its way up from his chest. “This already feels like too much.”
The humor dissolves into a fading chuckle. I lower his mouth to mine. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Another kiss. “I really like that you’re kissing me again.”
“For the record, I’ve never not wanted to kiss you.”
His arms link around my waist. “Well, you can do it as often as you want.”
Our lips find each other once more, slow and tender. My tongue stretches out to taste his, and he groans at the contact, bringing a hand to my face, adjusting my head to go deeper.
He pushes off the door without breaking the kiss until I’m backed into the mattress.
SCREECH!
We rip apart simultaneously, plugging our ears. The smoke alarm rings through the house at ear-splitting volume. A chaotic slew of accusations and shouts come from the kitchen.
Rowan yanks the door open and sprints down the hall at the same time Dubs hollers, “False alarm! Nobody panic!”
A minute later, the deafening chirp goes silent, and I fall onto the bed, cackling like a maniac.
My soldier appears in the doorway again, forearms braced on the frame. “I’m glad you think this is so funny.” His voice is annoyed, but his face is pure contentment.
The image hits me in pieces, a puzzle slowly taking shape. Him, here. His family squabbling in my kitchen. The smell of a home cooked meal.
Rowan thinks them showing up unannounced is a burden. But to me it just feels like love. Constant and tangible. The kind that fills a home to the rafters. I’d guess it’s the hope-filled kind of love Rowan’s grandmother was referring to all those years ago.
I know I can’t keep it here forever, but I promise myself in this moment, to savor as much as I can until there’s nothing left.
“Hannah, you wanna borrow it?” Bri holds out the bottle of nail polish she just used to paint Tess’ toes.
“No, thanks. I’m actually getting my nails done with my mom on Friday before the gala.”
Tess’ face lights up. “Ooh, a gala? What for?”
Rowan’s eyes flick to me from his perch at the table where he’s teaching Dubs to play chess.
“It’s an annual fundraiser for Boulder Children’s Hospital,” I say.
“Where she’s the keynote speaker,” Rowan chimes in proudly.
His mom gasps. “The keynote? That’s amazing!”
I wave off the compliment. “No, it’s seriously not a big deal.”
Rowan’s not done. “She’s lying. Hannah plans the whole event every year too.”
Face palm.
“That’s lovely, sweetheart.” Tess squeezes my hand. “Your mom must be so proud of you.”
I manage a nod through the tightness in my chest, clear my throat to move past it. “What day did you say you’re leaving?”
Bri fans her hands over the fresh polish on her stepmom’s toes. “Saturday.”
“You guys should totally come,” I tell them.
Tess is quick to object. “Oh, that’s sweet of you, but we wouldn’t want to—”
“No, please. The more the merrier, honestly. My mom comes every year. Dinner and dancing for a great cause, it’ll be fun.”
The two women exchange a hopeful look, then glance at Rowan who gives them a nod. Dubs is too engrossed with the chess board he can’t make sense of to notice.
“It’s black tie though,” I add.
Dubs snaps his fingers without looking up. “Did someone say black tie? Lundy, baby, this is the night everything changes for us. Count us in, Hannah.”
Bri huffs a laugh at my confused look. “London Bridge,” she explains before mumbling, “He wishes,” under her breath.
“Famous last words, babe. Wait till you see me in a tux.”
Rowan sighs. “Your pawn can’t go there.”
“You said pawns can move forward two spaces.”
“Only on their first move, otherwise it’s one space. But they capture diagonally.”
“You just made that up!”
“I did not.”
Dubs’ crazy eyes dance over the board. “Arbitrary! This whole goddamn game is a bunch of arbitrary rules that make no damn sense.”
He ponders for a moment and reaches for his bishop.
“Can’t do that either.”
“What the hell, man!”
While the two of them hash out the difference between a rook and a bishop for the millionth time, I turn back to the ladies. “Please come.”
Tess looks to Bri whose face beams. “I guess we need to go shopping.”
The house is quiet, everyone tucked into their beds for the night. And like every night before, Rowan and I lie facing each other, bodies entwined under the blankets as his hand moves a familiar path over my legs, arms, and back.
“So, tomorrow,” I breathe.
“Tomorrow.”
“How are you feeling?”
He takes a deep breath. “Good. I know it was a surprise, everyone showing up here, but I think Mom needed to be back at the lake house again.”
“When was the last time she visited?”
He considers for a second. “About eighteen years ago, I guess.” The corners of his eyes twitch. “Wow. Didn’t realize how long it’d been until I said it out loud.”
A pause, my mind settling as my eyelids grow heavy. “I’m glad I got to meet them.”
“Me too.”
I rest a hand on his sternum, finger idly circling the dog tags tattooed there.
Despite the darkness, I know every piece of art, every scar etched into his flesh.
I know the anchor on his shoulder, the bullet wound on the other.
The knife wound on his forearm, and his mom’s handwriting inked over his heart, the Ranger unit crest on his left bicep.
And the tapestry of florals tattooed down the length of his arms. Peonies his nana used to grow at their Boulder house and the wildflower patch he helped her plant at the lake house one summer.
The bouquet of hydrangeas his mom carried when she married his dad.
Multiple roses, one for every brother he’s lost in the service.
His whole world—the good, the bad, the heart breaking, the most beautiful parts of it—right there on the surface of his skin. And I know it all by heart.
The words leak out before I can stop them. “Do you think this was a mistake?”
“Do I think what was a mistake?”
I dip my chin so I don’t have to look at him. It hurts too much. “This.” I clutch the chain around his neck. “Getting so…invested.” Me, falling in love with you. “What if we get to the end and regret not keeping it casual?” My breath catches on the last word. Casual was never an option with us.
“I already told you I don’t do casual.” He tilts my head to meet his gaze, dark eyes glinting in the shadows. “And the only regret I’m gonna have at the end of this is that I couldn’t figure out a way to stay.”
The words are so close. But I can’t say them out loud knowing he won’t be here in four days. A love confession cloaked in an omen when I love you should be nothing less than a vow, makes the words seem impossible.
“Promise me something,” I say.
“Anything.”
“If you’re feeling a—a certain way…about me, don’t say it, okay? I don’t think…um…I just think it’d be easier if we didn’t say it.”
Maybe I shouldn’t assume those words are on his radar at all. Maybe the request was a reminder for myself more than anything else. Or maybe, the way he tugs me closer, his lips pressing a firm, lingering kiss to my forehead, means exactly what I think it means.
He releases a heavy exhale before whispering a reluctant, “Okay.”