Chapter Seventeen – Hannah
Hannah was used to wearing armor.
By the time she pushed through the back door of the restaurant, her defenses were fully in place. Inside, the staff was already busy with lunch preparations, and Hannah slipped in like a ghost returning to familiar haunts, nodding politely to those who greeted her.
“Hey, good to see you again, Hannah,” Matt said, surprise evident in his voice as he looked up from chopping vegetables.
“Good to see you too, Matt,” Hannah said, keeping her tone light. “I thought it was the least I could do since your brother has been kind enough to give me a place to stay for the last couple of nights.”
She’d agreed to stay with Caleb to ease her finances, but now she was seriously considering a hotel room after all.
It would be simpler. Cleaner. There would be rules again — boundaries she understood.
Spending another night under his roof felt like tempting something she’d deliberately stepped away from this morning.
And if she didn’t step away now... she wasn’t sure she’d remember how.
How had life gotten so complicated?
All that would wait until later. Now she had a shift to work. And no matter what was going on in her personal life, she would not let it affect her work. She never had.
She reached for an apron hanging on a hook and tied it around her waist, as she’d done a hundred times. The familiar weight of it across her body felt like stepping into a role, leaving her feeling competent, reliable, and useful. Nothing more.
“I’m glad you’re here. We’re short on prep for the lunch rush,” Matt said, gesturing to a stack of vegetables. “If you don’t mind, I’d love an extra pair of hands...”
“Not at all.” Hannah took her place at the counter, picked up a knife, and began slicing onions with quick, even strokes.
The work was simple and repetitive, requiring just enough focus to keep her mind occupied and leave no room for dangerous thoughts about vineyards, streams, or almost-kisses by firelight.
When Caleb appeared in the doorway fifteen minutes later, Hannah felt him before she saw him. Her body registered his presence before her eyes confirmed it, a warmth spreading across her skin that she firmly ignored. Instead, she kept her gaze on her work, her knife moving steadily.
“Hannah,” he said, his deep voice making her stomach flip. “How did it go at the garage?”
“My car part hasn’t arrived. It got sent to Riverside,” she told him without elaborating on her plans. Partly because they were still in flux. “It’s going to be another day or two.”
“Oh.” Caleb lingered for a moment longer than necessary, as if waiting for something more. When it didn’t come, he nodded. “I’m sorry about that.” Although he didn’t look too sorry. If she had to guess, he sounded... relieved.
Which confused her even more.
“These things happen,” Hannah said.
“At least you have somewhere to stay,” Matt said, looking pointedly at his brother.
“Oh, yes. Of course, you can stay as long as you want,” Caleb said quickly.
“Thanks,” Hannah said, and opened her mouth to say more. To say she didn’t want to impose on him anymore and would move to a hotel. But she didn’t. Because deep down, she knew she didn’t want to.
Even though she also knew this was a mistake. If she was going to stick to her plan and leave town, she needed to stick to her plan and leave Caleb’s house.
“One problem solved,” Matt said as he went back to prepping.
“I’d prefer if my car problem was solved,” Hannah said ruefully as she went back to work.
“I’m sure Roy will sort it out for you,” Caleb said, and then looked up as his mom waved at him. “Excuse me.”
Throughout the morning, Hannah buried herself in work, volunteering for tasks that kept her hands busy and her mind focused.
She chopped and prepped, wiped down surfaces, filled saltshakers—all the small, necessary tasks that kept a restaurant running smoothly.
When the lunch service began, she stepped seamlessly into the role of server, taking orders, delivering plates, and clearing tables.
She didn’t avoid Caleb—that would have been too obvious, too telling—but she kept their interactions as brief as possible as she tried to maintain her distance emotionally.
That was the only way she’d cope with staying at his cabin for another couple of nights without repeating the mistake of last night and trying to kiss him.
The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass herself or Caleb again. He’d been so kind, she’d feel awful if she made things awkward for him in his own house with her unwanted advances.
But then her carefully constructed barriers, her steely composure, fell apart.
The moment came unexpectedly, as such moments always did.
Hannah was clearing a table near the window when she heard it.
.. a burst of laughter, filled with joy, from a family seated in the corner.
A mother, a father, two young children, all leaning toward each other as if drawn by some invisible thread of connection.
The father said something Hannah couldn’t hear, and the mother rolled her eyes with such fond exasperation that Hannah felt her chest tighten.
It wasn’t the laughter itself that cracked her composure.
It was the way they seemed to fit together as a family so effortlessly, and the unquestioned assumption that they would all be here again next week, next month, next year.
That they belonged to each other in a way that couldn’t be undone by circumstance or choice.
“When we come back next Sunday,” the father was saying, “we should try that hike up to Eagle Point. The view is supposed to be incredible.”
Next Sunday. So simple. So certain.
Hannah’s breath hitched as memories washed over her without warning—a foster home where she’d been told she could stay “as long as you want,” only to be moved three weeks later.
A girlfriend who’d talked about “our future, our place” right up until the day she met and moved away with her boyfriend.
Places that had felt safe right before they weren’t.
Her hands trembled slightly as she stacked plates, her focus slipping. The family’s conversation continued, oblivious to the effect their ordinary happiness was having on her.
“Hannah?” Eleanor’s voice was gentle, soothing as she approached.
Hannah straightened, composing her features into a polite mask. “Sorry, I was just...”
“Let me help you,” Eleanor said simply, her tone brooking no argument despite its gentleness. She took some plates from Hannah and led the way to the kitchen. “Just set them down there.”
“No, I’m fine. I’ll load them into the dishwasher,” Hannah protested.
“Just leave them there,” Eleanor said with a nod. “We can load them later.”
“I...”
“Come on.” Eleanor took her hand and led her out of the kitchen area to the prep room, now quiet in the post-lunch lull. “Sit.”
Hannah sat, her body obeying before her mind could form a protest. Eleanor moved to the small electric kettle in the corner, filled it, and switched it on. The quiet domesticity of the motion was more steadying than any words could have been.
Neither of them spoke as the water heated, the silence stretching between them. When the kettle clicked off, Eleanor prepared two mugs of tea, adding honey to both without asking if Hannah wanted it.
She set one mug in front of Hannah, the ceramic warm against her palms as she wrapped her hands around it.
“Thank you,” Hannah said, her voice steadier than she felt.
Eleanor sat across from her. She didn’t ask what was wrong. Didn’t offer platitudes or reassurances. She just sipped her tea and waited.
When Hannah finally spoke, it came out sideways, not at all what she’d meant to say. “I should hear about my car tomorrow. The part was mis-routed, but they’re sorting it out.”
Eleanor nodded. “Shipping problems happen. Especially out here in the mountains.”
“I have a job waiting in Slateford,” Hannah continued, staring into her tea. “A good one. With benefits. And an apartment lined up.”
“Sounds like you’ve been planning carefully,” Eleanor observed, her tone neutral.
“I always do.” Hannah’s fingers tightened around her mug. “I like to handle things myself. I like being in control of my life.”
“There’s a lot to be said for self-sufficiency,” Eleanor agreed, surprising Hannah with her lack of argument. “It’s kept you safe, I imagine.”
The simple acknowledgment that Hannah’s caution had a purpose, a value, seemed to ease the burden of her fears. “It has,” she admitted. “But sometimes I wonder...”
She trailed off, unable to finish the thought aloud. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to belong somewhere. To someone. To trust in that someone.
Eleanor seemed to hear the unspoken words, anyway.
“I used to think I needed to do everything myself,” she said, her gaze drifting to the window where mountains rose in the distance.
“Not just because I could, but because it felt safer that way. If I didn’t need anything from anyone, they couldn’t disappoint me. ”
Hannah looked up, startled by this unexpected revelation. “What changed?” Hannah asked before she could stop herself.
Eleanor smiled slightly. “Meeting Thaddeus. I knew the moment I met him that there was something between us. But I didn’t want to admit it.
After all, as a woman, I had fought hard for my independence.
I wasn’t about to throw that away for a man I just met simply because my heart told me it was the right thing to do.
” She paused, weighing her next words. “I still value my independence. But I’ve learned I can have both. ”
Both. How about that?
“I’m not very good at letting people in,” Hannah admitted, the words barely audible.
“No one is at first,” Eleanor replied simply. “It’s a skill like any other. It takes practice.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the steam from their mugs rising in gentle spirals between them. Outside the window, clouds drifted across the mountain peaks, their shadows flowing like water across the slopes, leaving Hannah feeling at peace.
“I wish I could be the kind of person who can let go and take a chance...” Hannah said, finally. “Everyone has been so kind. Especially Caleb. But I...”
“You’re protecting yourself,” Eleanor finished for her when she faltered. “There’s no shame in that, Hannah. No one here expects you to drop your guard overnight.”
The validation was so unexpected, so free of judgment, that Hannah felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She blinked them back, unwilling to let her emotions show so plainly, even in this quiet moment of understanding.
“Belonging is a scary thing when you’re not used to it,” Eleanor continued, her voice gentle but matter-of-fact. “It doesn’t have to be decided today. Or tomorrow. You’re allowed to take things at your own pace.”
Hannah nodded, unable to speak past the tightness in her throat. Eleanor didn’t promise that staying would be safe, or that loving people wouldn’t hurt. She didn’t try to convince Hannah that her fears were unfounded. Instead, she simply acknowledged them as real and valid, offering understanding.
“Thank you,” Hannah managed finally. “For the tea. And for... the advice.”
“Of course,” Eleanor said, standing as if sensing Hannah’s need to reclaim her composure. “I should get back. But you take your time.”
Hannah sipped her tea, wishing she’d had a mom like Eleanor to offer guidance and advice. If she had, her life would be so different. She would be so different.
Wishing would not change the past. Or her.
But finding the courage to trust might.