32. Hannah
32
HANNAH
Zack:
Hey, any chance you’re free tomorrow evening? We need to run through the rodeo schedule, and it would be better to do that here at Lodestar so you can really get a feel for how it’s going to shake out.
Hannah:
You’re still helping me?
Zack:
Come on, duchess. You know I’d never leave you high and dry.
Hannah:
I’m off at three. I’ll come by after.
Zack:
Great! See you then.
I left brunch feeling like I had been hit by the emotional equivalent of a tsunami, if that tsunami had also hurled an eighteen-wheeler right at my feelings. I was wrung out from the conversation with my friends. My limbs felt heavy, and I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open.
But it had been good.
Chloe had been right. It did help to talk it out. Everything with Zack had happened so fast. One minute I was lying in his arms, blissed out on post-sex endorphins, and in the next I was fourteen again, fighting for my very survival.
PTSD , Chloe had said, gently squeezing my hand. It’s not just for soldiers and firemen .
I took a long, hot bath the second I got home and then crawled into bed. That was when I saw Zack’s text message asking me to come by Lodestar tomorrow. Warmth spread through me knowing he was still going to help me. His innuendo even elicited a dry chuckle. Zack had never been able to resist an innuendo.
I slept like the dead for fourteen hours, and when I woke up, the sunlight felt brighter, somehow.
“Okay, so I was thinking that instead of handing out schedule flyers, which are all going to end up scattered in the pasture anyway, we could put a big sign here with a QR code. People can just scan it and pull the flyer up on their phone.” Zack gestured as he talked.
I swallowed, watching his forearms bunch and flex. It was hard to concentrate when he looked so delicious. His maroon t-shirt clung just enough to his shoulders and pecs that I could see the shape without it being skin-tight, and the rusty red color made his eyes look bluer than ever. The worn-in Wrangler’s hugged his butt and thick thighs. And the backwards baseball cap? Lord, save me.
“What do you think?” Zack asked.
I think I want to bite your clavicle .
I cleared my throat. “That’s a great idea. No waste, and it will save us printing costs, too.”
“Great.” He grinned and my heart just about stopped beating. Why did his smile still do that to me? “So you’re doing an opening speech, right? To welcome everyone and thank them for supporting the public library. I remembered you said something about that, so it’s the first thing on the schedule.”
“Right.” I wasn’t even nervous about it. Public speaking was never a problem for me. Gorgeous cowboys proposing marriage, on the other hand…
“I talked to Chloe,” I blurted out.
He went completely still, then slowly turned to face me. “You did?”
I nodded. “She said you kept your promise.”
“Yeah.” He blew out a breath. “She pointed me in the direction of a few resources. I joined a support group for accident and trauma survivors. I’ve only been to one meeting. I’m not sure it’s for me. So many of them have it much worse than I do, and I feel guilty for being there. But my therapist said it was normal to feel that way and to give it a couple months before I decide.”
“You’re seeing a therapist?”
“Someone Chloe suggested. He’s an hour and a half from here, so I guess it’s good that he thinks I only need six sessions. He had the audacity to say I’m one of his easier cases.” Zack laughed. “I was mightily offended, let me tell you.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I said, but I was laughing, too. Then I stopped laughing and really looked at him. Not ogled. Looked . He had always hid his darker feelings behind a smile or a laugh, but I had the feeling he wasn’t doing that now. “You look good, Zack. How do you feel?”
He thought it over. “I’m okay,” he said at last. “The first session was hard. Fucking heavy .”
I nodded, remembering how I had felt yesterday after talking to my friends. How I had felt years and years ago after intense therapy sessions. “It gets easier.”
“I feel…” He searched for the word. “Hopeful. Almost. Like I can maybe see a time in the not-so-distant future when I will feel hopeful. I think it has something to do with my therapist being so damn sure I’ll make it out of this, but also it’s Hurricane Red.” He paused. “Ever since the accident, I’ve felt like our fortunes were aligned, you know? Like if things were going to be bad, then they’d be bad for both of us. When we went to rescue him, it was like I was rescuing myself in a way. That probably sounds stupid.”
“No,” I said. “No, it doesn’t sound stupid at all.”
We headed toward the arena, where the events would take place. His pinky brushed mine as we walked and then he pulled back like the touch scalded him. I had to stop myself from reaching for him.
“Sorry.” His voice came out rough around the edges. “I don’t know how holding your hand became such a habit.”
“It’s all right,” I said quickly. “I don’t mind.”
He stopped. “You don’t mind that it’s a habit, or you don’t mind holding my hand?”
I wanted to hold his hand. I wanted to so badly it made my chest ache. I couldn’t breathe around it. I twisted my hands together, not answering.
“Hannah.” He tucked an errant lock of hair behind my ear. His eyes swept over my face like he was trying to memorize every feature. “I keep thinking about that moment when everything went sideways and I…Do you think it would have gone differently, if I hadn’t asked you to marry me?”
My brows drew together in confusion. Wasn’t that obvious? “Yes, of course.”
“That’s what I thought, too. I kept running it through my head, and I realized, you didn’t have a particularly good experience with marriage. And maybe the way I sprung it on you out of the blue like that—which, to be fair, duchess, it was out of the blue for me, too—but maybe the shock of it was kind of…triggering for you?”
I bit back a smile. Why did I feel like smiling right now? This was serious. “Maybe a little,” I admitted.
“What do you think would have happened if I hadn’t?”
I wrinkled my nose. Honestly, I hadn’t really considered that. “I don’t know. I suppose we would have had coffee together and then gone to work. Maybe I would have gone to Lodestar after work. We probably would have had sex again.”
“No.” Zack looked at the sky for a moment. His throat bobbed on a swallow. “No, I mean, what do you think would have happened if I had told you I loved you without first scaring the ever-living fuck out of you with an accidental marriage proposal?”
All the air left my lungs in an audible whoosh . I tried to speak, but all I managed was an embarrassing, mouse-like squeak.
But he didn’t jump in with more words of his own. He stayed silent, his eyes never leaving mine, patiently waiting for me to get there.
And finally, I did.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Those sex hormones are pretty strong.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare say this is just sex again. I swear to god, Hannah, I’ll turn you over my knee right now.”
I stared at him slack jawed. Gracious. Was that supposed to be a threat? Because my body wasn’t reacting to it like a threat. I shifted and pressed my thighs together. “I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say, the hormones might have buffered the fear a little. Not enough to get past an accidental marriage proposal, obviously, but maybe a little thing like I love you would have been okay.”
He dipped his chin, then tilted his head sideways and peeked at me. “I could say it now. Just to test it.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. “No!” I shouted.
His brows winged up and one corner of his mouth twisted in an amused smirk.
“I mean, no,” I said in a normal voice, despite my pulse galloping frantically. I needed to think about this. It was happening too fast again, and I hadn’t expected it. I couldn’t?—
“Are you scared, duchess?” he asked.
It was almost a taunt, except his eyes crinkled at me in a smile that hadn’t made it to his mouth yet. I loved that look. I didn’t deserve that look, not when I had just shouted at him not to tell me he loved me. But he looked at me like that, and suddenly I wasn’t scared, not really.
And still I said, “Yes.” Because that fear...it would come back. That clawing panic would return. I didn’t want to hurt him.
“Good,” he said.
“Good?”
“Yeah. I’m glad you’re scared. I’m counting on it. Because here’s the thing, Hannah Bell.” He tilted my chin up to look at him. “You’re really fucking good at doing the thing that scares you.”