Bonus Chapter
Hannah - five years ago
I hiss through the soft creak of the metal door clicking shut behind me. The rusted iron steps beneath my feet crackle and sway until I find solid ground.
Dew glistens off the grass as I wind through the woods toward Rowan’s grandfather’s cabin, a heavy weight slamming into my chest with every inch of distance I create between the sleeping soldier at my back and the main road I’m headed for.
I wanted to wake him, tell him I had to go, but I couldn’t make myself do it. It shouldn’t be hard—we just met and he has to leave in a few hours anyway—yet, every time I imagined saying goodbye, the word felt too small and too big all at once.
So, like a coward, I left a note. I have half a thought to go back and jot my phone number at the bottom, but that seems out of place given our circumstances. Not to mention presumptuous.
My phone continues to buzz at my thigh. The continuous stream of texts and calls I’ve ignored for the past twelve hours looms more ominous in light of a new day.
While I was off galavanting the night away with a handsome stranger, Mom was dealing with the fallout of my cancelled wedding on her own, no doubt.
Regardless of how justified my dramatic departure was, I ghosted everyone.
My mom most of all—I feel sick about it.
I retrieve my phone. Hundreds of texts sit unread, but I jump to my thread with Mom first.
Me
Sorry I vanished last night. I’ll be home in a couple hours to explain.
Her response comes through a minute later.
Mom
No worries, Haddy girl. I’ll be here to talk whenever you’re ready.
The pit in my stomach lifts a bit at her reply, and I take a full breath.
Up ahead, the cabin comes into view and I steer course between it and the detached garage.
I tap over to my rideshare app. Soonest available is thirty minutes away which makes sense given how far out of town I am.
Sighing, I make the selection and slide the phone back in my pocket.
“I didn’t think walks of shame happened this early.”
I stumble, nearly tripping over my own feet as I clutch a hand at my sternum. “Holy hell, Norm!”
Rowan’s grandfather glides down the front porch steps, hands in the pockets of his plaid pajama pants. “Sorry I scared ya.”
My eyes shut on one deep pull of air to gather my wits.
“Nah, it’s good. And it’s not a walk of sh—” I cut myself off, glance back in the direction of the camper, then at Norm.
“It’s not like that…I mean, we didn’t…” I shake my head, clamp down on my tongue.
Say less words, Hannah. “I just need to go.”
The straight-faced man simply stares at me, but it’s the same look his grandson gave me last night on the dock—loud and too perceptive.
After a century of awkward silence, I hike a thumb over my shoulder toward the gravel driveway. “Well, I’ve got a ride picking me up at the main road so I should head out. But thank you for your hospitality. I really appreciate it.”
One final nod and I turn away. I make it about three steps when Norm says, “Get in the truck, sunshine.”
I whirl back. “Excuse me?”
“Bears live in these woods and I’m not letting you walk a quarter mile by yourself. Get in the truck.”
“You don’t have to wait with me,” I say over the low melody of the Garth Brooks’ country tune playing through his truck’s cassette player. Parked at the end of the drive, the main highway stretches to the left and the right, cars whizzing by in both directions intermittently.
Norm scoffs, glaring at me from the corner of his eye. “And leave a young woman alone on the side of the road for some stranger to snatch up? Not a chance.”
I fold my lips against a smile. If only he knew exactly how I met his grandson. “Now hang on a minute, I’m a strong, independent woman. I don’t need a man to protect me,” I say, with a teasing smile.
He grumbles and shakes his head. “Since when did women stop expecting men to be gentlemen?”
A soft chuckle rattles my chest. “I like you, Norm.”
My ride still shows it’s ten minutes away.
I cross my arms, set my head against the seat as the music crackling through the old speakers lulls back to the forefront.
A grin tugs at my mouth when one song ends and a new one begins, same one Rowan and I danced to at the bar last night.
The song he told me was his grandfather’s favorite.
Norm seems content to sit quietly and listen to the music, so I leave him be for a few minutes.
I think about the situation I’ll have to face when I get home, the series of explanations I’ll have to give about my decision to leave.
Though I have no plans to let Gerald off the hook for his infidelity, a cancelled wedding is still a mess we’ll both need to clean up.
Questions will most definitely come about where I disappeared to, who I was with.
I wonder if Rowan’s still asleep. I wonder if he’s found my note.
I wonder if what he said last night about wishing we’d met under different circumstances still rings true now that the sun is out, the words can’t be tucked beneath the dark of night, and our time is up.
I wonder if he wishes he hadn’t said so much, if he thinks we were both just caught up in some fantastical whirlwind of happenstance, big feelings, and a clock that was running out.
What I said, though—despite my best efforts to explain it away—rings even truer now than it did then: I feel like I’ve known him my whole life.
I think about where Rowan might be headed next.
Back to his post, but then where? I imagine him dropped in remote locations around the globe, coming face to face with danger, living in a perpetual state of life or death situations.
A static flicker of his father’s flag on Norm’s mantle flashes across my memory.
A lump forms at the back of my mouth, and I have to swallow it down.
The song ends and I cast my gaze to the man in the driver’s seat. Widower. Outlived his only child. And his only grandchild practically a world away at all times. My chest tightens at the thought. He is one hell of a chess opponent, though.
“Norm, I think we might need a rematch some time.”
He harumphs, the corner of his lips perking up for half a second. Pride blooms over my face.
“That so?”
“Mmhmm,” I say with a nod. He finally meets my gaze. “So, hypothetically, if I were to show up at your door sometime in the not-so-distant future, would you play with me again?”
A grunt. His eyes slide to the windshield and then back to me, but I hold his stare. If he’s trying to call my bluff, I won’t let him.
He scratches his jaw. “Hypothetically, I’d consider it.”
“Hmmm…interesting.” I look out my window for a beat, clicking my tongue. “And, hypothetically, if I arrived with some manner of homemade food, would you be more inclined to agree to said rematch?”
He wrings his hands on the steering wheel, gaze fixed on the speedometer. “If there was a cherry pie offered in exchange, I’d have a hard time saying no to that.”
“Hypothetically?”
“Hypothetically,” he volleys, fighting a grin. “Though I doubt you could do it justice the way my Maggie did. Sorta like your chess playing.”
An audible guffaw erupts from my throat. “Is that a challenge?”
“Hypothetically.” Norm smiles for real this time and it cracks my heart wide open.
My ride pulls up alongside us. “This is me.”
He eyes the middle-aged woman behind the wheel of her minivan with the skepticism of a federal agent questioning suspect number one. “You know this person?”
I giggle and hold out my phone. “No, but she has all five star ratings. See?”
He removes his bifocals from the collar of his shirt and slides them on, inspecting my screen like it’s a map of Narnia. “I don’t even know what I’m looking at.”
“Oh, Norm,” I say, patting his hand. “Never change.” Sliding across the bench seat, I open the door and climb out of the truck.
“So, you gonna give that cherry pie a try?” I spin back on him, but before I can reply, he adds, “Cause my Maggie always put cinnamon in the crust.” I bite my lip, not wanting to give too much of my excitement away. “I like cinnamon in the crust.”
I give a noncommittal nod, slam the door closed. Through the open window, I lean my forearms on the frame. “Noted. See ya around, Norm.” Knocking the metal door with my fist a couple times, I retreat a step. “Hypothetically, I mean.”
He tips his hat while I cross in front of the truck, and I wiggle my fingers in a wave.
Note to self: learn how to make cherry pie.