Chapter 58 The Other Half of My Heart
the other half of my heart
Rowan
“Again, Tess. You’re doing great.” The physical therapist guides Mom through a neutral spine squat. Her cheeks pull into a grimace as she reaches for the box in front of her and pushes back to standing. “Good,” he says. “Three more just like that.”
I glance down at my texts. Hannah hasn’t replied to the message I sent this morning. Before I send a follow-up, I think better of it. Her plate is full and there’s a two hour time difference, I remind myself. She’ll respond when she can.
The empty chair buzzes beside me. I lunge for my phone like I haven’t spoken to her in months. Disappointment courses through me when I see an unknown number flash across the display. But I recognize the Boulder area code.
“Hello?”
“Yes, is this Rowan Shaw?” The voice on the other end is strong, authoritative.
“Speaking.”
“Mr. Shaw, this is Officer Keith Montgomery with the Boulder Police Department.” I sit up taller. “You were listed as a witness to a sexual assault claim by a Ms. Hannah James.”
My heart thunders in my chest. I jump to my feet and duck out the front door to the sidewalk. “Yes, sir.”
“If now’s a good time, would you mind telling me everything you saw on the night in question.”
I blink up at the sky, pride overwhelming me from the inside out. My girl did it. She fucking did it.
“Yes, sir, absolutely.” A sigh of relief escapes me. “Sorry, um…I just…I wasn’t sure if she was ever gonna—” I cut myself off, pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s really good to hear from you is all.”
“I take it Ms. James is important to you.”
“Yes, sir, she is.”
“Why don’t you start with where you were coming from when you entered the parking lot.”
I nod, collecting myself, and begin. When I’m finished, Officer Montgomery hums over the line and thanks me for my time.
“So what happens now?”
“Well, you and Ms. James’ stories line up so, assuming the lot security cam corroborates what you’ve both said, we should be able to move forward with charges.”
“There were cameras?”
“Footage is being collected as we speak.”
I blow out a long breath. “Good. That’s good. Should I um—” I glance at Mom through the window. “Should I be concerned about anything I did?” Daniel would be a fool to press charges against me, but nobody said he was smart.
“As long as the video shows you were acting in defense of Ms. James, I don’t see a reason for you to worry.”
Before we disconnect, I assure him I’m available if there’s any more help I can provide to the investigation. My phone doesn’t have the chance to sleep before I’m already opening Hannah’s contact. I need to talk to her, tell her how proud I am.
“Mr. Shaw?” Mom’s therapist interrupts, peeking out the door. “Tess is ready to go.”
On the car ride I try my best to hide my restless energy.
All I want to do is get home, make lunch for my mom, and call Hannah.
If Mom notices the jitters, she has the courtesy not to draw attention to it.
For the best since she doesn’t know about the assault—not sure I could handle a round of twenty-questions if she suspected anything serious.
She gets close though. “Was your phone call important earlier? You rushed out pretty fast.”
“Nah,” I lie. “It was the realtor with some updates on the inspector’s report.” There’s some truth there. Pops’ house sold a few weeks ago and had its official inspection yesterday.
“All good news, I hope.”
I nod, lips in a tight smile. “Yup. All good. Should close before Christmas.”
Mom pats my hand on the console. “That’s great. Now, tell me what’s really going on.”
I look out the driver side window to avoid her stare.
“Ahhh, silence. Must be serious.”
“It’s not—” I shake my head, adjust my hat. “It’s not a big deal, I just…I really wanna talk to Hannah.”
“Nobody’s stopping you, kiddo.”
“I’ll call her after I make us some lunch.”
“I may not be able to push a lawnmower or drive a car yet, but I am capable of making two sandwiches.”
She uses her cane to shove me out of the kitchen when we get home. I’m too eager to call Hannah to put up a fight.
Closed up in my bedroom, I pull out my phone. Again, it rings in my hand before I can do anything. This time it’s Kristen calling.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Rowan. Sorry to call out of the blue, but…” She hesitates, and my stomach sinks. “Have you heard from Hannah today?”
“Not yet. I was about to call her.” Kristen doesn’t reply and the weight of her silence carves a hole right in my chest. “Why?”
“I’m not surprised she hasn’t reached out, she’s been a mess since last night.”
“Yeah, I just gave my witness statement to the police department this morning.” I sink onto the edge of my bed. “She must be struggling to process everything after having to tell them what happened.”
She goes quiet again and panic strikes me straight in the solar plexus. “Shit! Did Hannah not tell you she reported the assault?”
“No, she did,” Kristen rushes out. “But that’s not why I called.”
Relief hits me first but then something more ominous follows a second later. My mouth hangs slack, brows drawn together. I swallow down the pain already lodged in my throat. “Just say it.”
A pause filled by a shaky breath. “Lydia died last night.”
“Mom?”
She glances up from the kitchen counter. Her smile falls the instant she sees me. “Ro, what is it?”
I can’t find the words. In two steps, I cross the room and pull her into a hug. She’s solid, tangible. Here. And if I didn’t have her? The thought is unimaginable. I never want to take the breath in her lungs for granted.
“Is it Lydia?”
My hold on her is unyielding as I nod against her temple. “She’s gone. Hannah didn’t answer when I called.”
Mom pushes me back a step, leveling her eyes at me. “You need to go.”
I look wildly around the kitchen, not knowing where to begin. “I can’t just drop everything and get on a plane. You need someone here to—”
Her shoulders dip and she turns back to the counter.
“Mom, no.” I rush over and wrap my arms around her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know you didn’t, sweetheart. It just…”
“It is what it is,” I finish for her.
“Maybe Bri could come home for a few days,” she suggests, though we both know it’s unlikely with her work schedule. Plus, she’s already arranged two days off to come home for Thanksgiving. “Or you could call Walker.”
I release my hold and begin to pace. Arms folded over my chest, I carve a path into the cracked tile floor. “He just got an extended leave three months ago. It’s a long shot.” A mumbled curse. “God, if I could get her on the phone and hear that she’s okay then maybe I—”
Mom’s firm grip stops me as I pass by for what must be the fourth time. Her unflinching eyes hold mine. “Rowan, it’s okay to ask for help. All of this?” She gestures vaguely to the house around us. “Nobody expects you to do it alone. So call your friend. You have to at least try.”
My phone calls with Hannah over the next few days are brief.
She’s understandably overwhelmed and emotionally exhausted so I never pressure her to talk longer than she wants.
I get the information for Lydia’s memorial service but I don’t speak in any certain terms that I’ll be there.
Until I heard for sure from Dubs, I didn’t want to get Hannah’s hopes up.
But yet again, Dubs proves why he’s my best friend. He manages to secure approval for a forty-eight hour pass, which means, by the time he gets here, I have roughly thirty-six hours to get to Colorado and back home again.
At this point, I’ll take whatever I can get.
Anything could have gone awry with Dubs’ travel and my red-eye flight, so I kept my plans under wraps. The only person who knows I’m coming is Kristen.
By the time I land in Denver it’s nearly two in the morning. Though I’m tempted, I’m not about to show up at Hannah’s place unannounced in the middle of the night if there’s even the slightest possibility she’s asleep.
I make the drive to the lake house instead, clock a few hours of rest before I’m back out the door.
I’ve always found funeral homes to be bland and lacking any semblance of comfort someone in mourning might benefit from.
This one is no different. Dark wood entry table with an oversized floral arrangement.
Guest book atop a generic brass podium manned by a suit-clad employee who, when I ask where I can find Hannah James, proceeds to tell me she’s gathered with the “family” and that if I’m not family, I should take my seat.
Saved by the bell, also known as Hannah’s best friend, Kristen tracks me down before I say something I regret to the poor man because I’m sleep deprived and within fifty-feet of the woman I love who I haven’t held in three months.
“He’s with me,” she announces. I can’t help myself—I give the guy a side-eye anyway as I’m pulled down the hall.
The crowd in the family reception area consists of six people. Kristen, John, Richard, Artie, Tom, and Cecil. None of them blood, but as good a family anybody could ask for.
My eyes haven’t spotted her yet but the buzz in my veins tells me she’s within reach.
“She’s in there.” Kristen points to a small room around the corner where a door sits partially ajar. “She said she wanted to be alone, but I think you should go in.”
No time for pleasantries, I nod my thanks, offer a passing wave to the guys when they spot me, and head for the other half of my heart.
I push the door open slowly until she comes into view.
Hannah sits in an armchair pulled up to the window. Her arms are crossed on the ledge, chin resting on top as she stares through the glass looking empty and so damn tired.
“Baby?”
Her head snaps up. When her red-rimmed eyes meet mine the emotional dam inside me cracks. We don’t waste a moment. She stands up and I cross the small space and swoop her into my arms.
Soft, sweet, and a little broken, she breathes into the shell of my ear, “You came.”
“Of course I came.”