Chapter 50
the no sense of it all
Hannah
I’m swarmed the moment I step off the stage. Board members thanking me, hospital staff with their condolences for my loss but followed quickly by gratitude for sharing my story. And Dottie, yanking me into a sternum-crushing hug without a word then disappearing into a sea of people.
Towering over the crowd in the distance is Rowan. When he’s not interrupted by a guest wanting to shake the hand of the grandson of the beloved Nurse Nana, as she was affectionately called, his eyes remain laser-focused on mine.
Until finally, the crowd clears and he’s in front of me.
I fist my skirt to hide the tremor in my hands. “I swear I didn’t know until this morning. I mean, I suspected but only recently, and I didn’t wanna say anything unless I was sure.”
Rowan’s forehead kisses mine, presses in—the weight of him knocks me back a step. He grabs my hands to steady me.
“Come here,” he mutters, so soft I almost miss it. He pulls me across the room, past throngs of people. We exit through the main doors into the cocktail space. His head swivels, noting the few guests milling about before tugging me around the corner into an empty hallway.
His lips are on mine the second we’re alone.
It’s not overly passionate or filthy with need. It’s two people heaving sighs of relief as they surrender to the mystifying events that brought them together. Nobody could make heads or tails of any of it—none of it makes sense. Yet it’s the no sense of it all that makes the most sense now.
Against all logic, nothing in my life has ever made more sense than me with him.
Our mouths sweep slowly, dragging out every taste to make this moment of blissful solitude last a bit longer.
We pull back and Rowan cups my face. “You met her?” There’s so much wonder in his question my heart wants to explode.
I nod. “She was really nice.”
His dimples pop, eyes glistening. “She taught you Cochrane Gambit, didn’t she?”
My expression falls flat. “How do you know that?”
“The first night you played Pops, you opened with it.” His voice drops, a dark humor lacing his words as he whispers, “That had Nana written all over it.”
Jaw gaping, I shove him in the chest. “That sneaky bastard. Is that why I could never beat him when I played Cochrane?”
He chuckles, pulling me close again. “Sorry, sunshine. He learned from the best.” Another soft kiss. “Let’s go to the lake house tonight. I don’t care if all we do is sleep, I just wanna be alone with you.”
The words I leave tomorrow are absent, but they scream the loudest.
I haul his lips back down to mine, this time allowing my tongue to slide between the seam of them. A tiny taste, but he groans at the sensation, linking his arms around my back.
“Two more hours,” I say between kisses. “Then I’m yours for the whole night.” Head tipped back to meet his gaze, I hold it for several beats. “All of me.”
His eye twitches, but he doesn’t respond. I don’t say anything either. Instead I take his face between my hands so he sees what I’m saying.
I’m not thinking about how much it will hurt to say goodbye in the morning. I’m not thinking about Daniel. Assholes who don’t understand the word no don’t get to take something this good and perfect away from me.
I want Rowan. Always have. The man who’s never not worshipped me, adored me. Protected me. Endlessly patient and eternally kind. Compassionate and strong. The man I love. And if I only get to have him like this for one night, I’ll take whatever else life throws at me in exchange for it.
He sets his jaw. “Hannah, you know I’m not expecting anything. That’s not why I asked.”
“I know. But I want to.” His lips part. “And you don’t have to ask me if I’m sure because I am. Rowan, I…” I blink up at him, words lost.
“Baby, what is it?”
My eyes drift shut, lips curling on a soft exhale. “I love when you call me that.” I wish he could call me baby everyday for the rest of my life.
When our mouths come back together, he hums the word again, sending vibrations of want zinging through me like a roman candle.
“I want you,” I murmur between the give and take of our kiss.
His hand skates down over the curve of my ass, squeezing once. My breath hitches and he catches my whimper with his tongue.
Everywhere. I want his hands, his mouth—all of him—everywhere.
He pulls away dramatically, giving me a comical shove to create distance as he wipes a hand over his mouth. “Get inside, runaway. You’ve got one hour and fifty-eight minutes.”
I arch a brow. “Plus the one hour drive.”
Rowan curses, twines his fingers with mine, and leads us back to the ballroom.
The gala bustles as the band plays their post-dinner playlist. Lights are low. People dance, drink, and flood the auction tables.
My big soldier man is pulling me to the dance floor when Mom intercepts him. The two exchange a look as she places her palm on his cheek. A faint smile lifts his eyes.
“She showed me your picture,” she says. He grabs her wrist, holding her hand in place. “I hope you know how proud she was of you.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “Norm, too.”
Mom inclines her head once, Rowan nods. I hold my breath.
She pats his cheek one last time, holding his gaze for an extra second before turning to me.
My mom pulls me into a hug and I finally exhale.
Her praise is whispered into my ear—she’s proud of me, I look beautiful, and she’s so glad she got to meet him.
Something thick lodges in my throat, and I can’t bring myself to reply without crying, so I don’t.
“Richard and I are calling it a night,” she offers, easing back.
“What? It’s still early.”
Dr. Adelson steps in beside her, one arm linked around her waist.
“I’m feeling a little tired. It’s been a long—don’t give me that look, Haddy,” Mom chides.
I press my molars together and look to Richard whose expression is unreadable.
I’m about to say something to him when Mom grabs my arm, softly pulling my attention.
“Have fun tonight, sweetheart. Dance, drink, celebrate, do whatever you want. You deserve it. I’m in good hands, I promise. ”
I sigh. “Okay. Brunch tomorrow?”
“Always.”
With that, Mom leaves on Richard’s arm and the tuxedoed soldier thrusts a glass of bubbly into my hand boasting a dimpled grin all too excited to get to all the fun.
On our way to the dance floor, Rowan gets lured into a conversation with a nurse who knew his grandmother. Without missing a beat, another handsome soldier swipes my flute, sets it aside, and begins to twirl me around to the music.
Dubs smirks while Rowan steals evil glances over the nurse’s shoulder like a grumpy chaperone.
“Getting his face to look like that is my favorite pastime.” Dubs hurls me into a dramatic dip. Rowan scowls at us then flips to a bright smile on a dime when the woman asks him something.
I laugh. “You’re pretty good at it.”
“Years of practice.” He hauls me to my feet with a hand placed safely in the middle of my back and we begin an easy sway. “You’re good for him.”
Together, we look over at the him in question.
All the big, forever kind of thoughts I have about this man are swallowed down as I turn back to his friend. “What makes you say that?”
“The bullet wound on his shoulder?” I nod, lips pulling tight. “Stupid idiot jumped in front of me.” He shakes his head, avoiding the memory, gaze drifting off. Can’t say I’m surprised Rowan left out the part about taking the bullet to save his best friend’s life. Because of course he did.
“And I fucking love him for it,” Dubs adds. “But I hate him a little bit too for risking his life like that.”
His gray eyes meet mine. “Nobody loves harder than my guy, but he’s too competent for his own damn good.
” He spins me under his arm and slides me back in.
“My friend is a lot of things, Hannah. Most of them good, but he hates asking for help. And you…I can tell you’re strong like him, but a caretaker like Tess.
He needs that. Guy’s gonna work himself to the bone taking care of everyone else if someone doesn’t start taking care of him soon. ”
My throat grows tight. I’ve never met anyone who cares for others the way Rowan does—sacrificially and without conditions. Strangers on the sidewalk or his own flesh and blood, it doesn’t matter. He’s all in from the word go.
Dubs’ next words hit hard, but the look on his face when he says them lands like a Mack truck straight to my gut. “So take care of him, yeah?”
I hold his stare for long seconds, unable to find the right response. His gaze, so kind and compassionate, makes it impossible to answer honestly. If only he understood the mountains of odds stacked against his best friend and me.
“Hands off.” Rowan curls a possessive arm around my waist and pulls me out of his friend’s hold, severing the silence.
Dubs takes the interruption in stride, tips an imaginary hat my way.
“Thanks for the dance, Hans. I’m off to annoy my future betrothed.
” He sidesteps us and finds Bri on the edge of the dance floor who eyes him like a dare she’s already decided is a no-go.
Tess is perched beside her, delighted over the whole thing. “Yo, Bridge! You. Me. Dance.”
“Not a chance, Nunchuck.”
“Wasn’t a question, sweetheart,” he croons, voice fading behind us.
Rowan swings me around until we’re chest to chest, his hand set low on my back while the other claims mine over his collarbone.
“Is the man of the hour gracing me with his presence?” I tease.
“Cute. This is all your fault, you know.”
“Sorry, not sorry, soldier.”
The song transitions into a brassy rendition of “Moonlight Serenade.” Other couples dancing around us, this room, the world beyond it—it all begins to fade.
First, only a blur of sound and color and light until the rock of our bodies, the fervent thump of Rowan’s heart beneath my hand, and the ocean-blue eyes peering down at me narrows our entire universe to just this. Only us.
Take care of him.
How badly I wish I could. If the situation were different, I wouldn’t hesitate. If he wasn’t leaving in twelve hours, I wouldn’t waste another second without telling this man how much I love him.
Someone or something bigger than either of us managed to collide our worlds together twice already.
Timing and crappy circumstances limited any possibility of seeing where a real relationship might take us.
But if we’re lucky, if we’ve got anyone in our corner on the other side of this life, maybe we’ll get a third try. Someday.
I kiss him, sending up a silent prayer, a plea, a wish. Hoping against hope against hope the universe is a little kinder to us next time.