8. Grim
GRIM
I watched Hannah walk out of the reception. I didn’t follow her. Told myself I was honoring her request.
She wanted proof. Wanted me to show up honest instead of careful. And maybe giving her space was the first step.
Except it didn't feel like respect. It felt like a retreat.
I stayed at the reception until Carson and Lyra left in a shower of sparklers and cheers. Then I got on my bike and rode home alone.
Hank met me at the door and knew something was wrong. He pressed his nose against my leg and followed me from room to room like he thought I might disappear if he looked away.
The next morning, I made coffee for one.
The second mug sat on the counter where I'd left it Saturday morning. I couldn't bring myself to put it away.
Twelve hours had gone already. Sunday slipping past. She'd asked me to take a couple days, and I was already wasting them. Waiting felt like the wrong shape of respect.
Mama Mae let herself in before I could decide what to do next.
She had a key and didn't knock.
Hank trotted over to greet her, and she scratched behind his ears without breaking stride, heading straight for the kitchen where I stood uselessly next to the coffeepot.
"Everett called me," she said.
I nodded slowly. "Figured."
"He's worried."
"About me or Hannah?"
"Both." She pulled out a chair and sat, gesturing for me to do the same. I stayed standing. "Sit down, Grim."
I sat.
She studied me for a long moment, the kind of look that peeled back layers I'd spent years building.
"You knew what you were doing when you didn't answer that message truthfully," she said finally. "Did you know you were choosing yourself over her?"
My chest tightened. I wanted to say no. That I'd been caught off guard, that it spiraled before I could correct it. But Mama Mae didn't ask questions she didn't already know the answer to.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "I knew."
She nodded, like she'd expected that. "Why?"
"Because she was asking for me." The words came out rough. "Not Everett. Not some stand-in. She wanted me there, and if I told her the truth, she'd know she sent it to the wrong person. I couldn't—" I stopped. Tried again. "I didn't want to give it back."
"So you kept it."
"Yeah."
Mama Mae leaned back in her chair. "Loyalty to Everett was easier than being honest with her. Loyalty to me is easier than being honest with yourself. If you want her, stop hiding behind the people who love you."
The words landed hard. She wasn't wrong.
I'd spent years using Everett's trust as a reason to stay away. And when Hannah finally reached out, I'd used the mistaken message as permission to get close without risking the truth.
"I told you to be careful with her heart," Mama Mae said. "And with yours. You remember that?"
"I remember."
"Well, you're out of time to be careful." She stood, smoothing her hands over her skirt. "Now you have to be honest. Not to me. Not to Everett. To her."
She left without waiting for me to respond. Trusted me to know what to do.
Everett showed up an hour later.
He looked tired, his tie shoved in his pocket, his shirt wrinkled from the wedding. He stepped inside when I opened the door, glanced around like he was checking to see if Hannah was there, then met my eyes.
"I wasn't trying to run you off last night," he said.
"I know."
"I was worried. Not entirely opposed." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "She's my sister. I've watched guys underestimate her, take her for granted, make her feel like she wasn't enough. I don't want her going through that again."
"I'm not James."
"I know you're not." He let out a long breath. "That comment I made years ago, about you being the only guy I trust around her… I meant it as a compliment. Not a life sentence."
I stared at him.
"You're not sneaking around behind my back," Everett continued. "You told her the truth. At least I hope you did. So go be honest with her. Not with me."
I wanted to explain. Wanted to tell him exactly how I felt, how long I'd felt it, how serious I was.
Everett cut me off before I could start.
"Don't tell me," he said. "Tell her."
I was going to wait. Give her space. Let her have the couple days she'd asked for. But Mama Mae was right. Waiting was just another way of deciding for her.
Hank watched me put on my boots and grab my keys.
"We'll be back," I told him. "Or we won't. I don't know yet."
Hannah had promised to return the tuxes this morning. I’d overheard Lyra ask her to take them when the place opened at noon. That meant I still had the chance to catch her before she left town.
I got in my truck. Sat there for a second with the engine idling.
Then I pulled out my phone and typed:
Me: I need a plus-one.
Same words she'd sent Thursday night. Redirected on purpose this time. I didn't wait for her to reply before starting to drive.
At the red light halfway to her cabin, I typed the follow-up:
Me: For what? Everything after this weekend.
I didn't send it yet. I'd say it at her door if she opened it.
Hannah opened the door holding her toiletry bag. She wasn't fully packed. Her suitcase sat open on the bed behind her, half-filled, like she'd started and stopped.
She looked at me. Didn't say anything.
I didn't lead with I love you. I led with the truth she'd asked for.
"I knew," I said. "Thursday night. When you sent that first message. I didn't suspect. I knew it was meant for Everett."
She didn't move.
"I drafted the correction," I continued. "Typed it out. Deleted it. Every text after that was a choice I made for you."
Her jaw tightened, but she let me keep going.
"I'd spent years assuming you were off-limits," I said.
"And thirty seconds of a mistaken message was the first time you'd ever asked me for anything.
I couldn't make myself hand it back. Everything after that made the first lie harder to undo.
By the time you were at my place Saturday night, telling me you wanted me knowing everything, I was so far gone that saying it out loud felt like it would break everything. "
I stopped. Swallowed.
"I was wrong," I said. "Not because loving you was wrong. Because taking your choice away by not correcting the mistake was."
Her eyes searched mine. I had to keep going. Had to get it all out or I was afraid I never would.
"I love you," I said. "I've loved you since before I had any right to. That doesn't undo what I did. But if you'll let me try, I'll spend the rest of my life telling you the truth even if it costs me everything.”
Silence.
Then Hannah said, "If I text you tomorrow, will you tell me the truth?"
"Yes."
"Even if it's something I don't want to hear?"
"Especially then."
She looked at me for a long moment. Then she smiled. It was small but real. “Okay.”
Then she stepped back from the door. Not to close it. To let me in.
We sat on the wide back porch of the cabin in silence for a long time, watching the light filter through the trees.
"Do you drink coffee or tea in the mornings?”
She looked at me, her brows creased in the middle. "Coffee. Always coffee. Why?”
“I want to make sure I’ll always have what you need.”
She was quiet for a few minutes, and I let her be.
"Evan."
She'd used my real name in bed the night before, when it had felt like the most intimate thing she could have done. She hadn't used it since.
I looked at her.
"I love you too," she said. "I have for years. I didn't say it Thursday night because I didn't know I was saying it to you. I should have said it at the door just now, instead of making you say the hard parts first."
I wrapped my hand around hers. “You had reason to make me say the hard parts."
"I know." She squeezed her fingers. Her hand was warmer than mine, which shouldn't have surprised me. She'd always been warmer than I was. "I'm still mad. I might still be mad at you next week, even maybe a little next month.”
"Yeah."
"But I love you. That's not the part I'm angry about. That part isn't going anywhere."
I turned her hand over and pressed my mouth to her palm. “I can work with that.”
“Good. Now, I need to finish packing before the cleaning crew comes in and kicks me out.”
“Do you have to go back to Dallas tonight? Can you stay with me?”
She tilted her head and studied me like she was trying to find the right words. “Just for tonight?”
I shook my head. “I’d prefer forever, but tonight would be a good start.”
“Is that what you really want?”
My breath hitched as I reached up to cup her cheek. “It’s what I’ve always wanted, Hannah.”
She nodded. “Then we’ll make it happen.”
I smoothed my hand over her hair. Something settled into place in my chest… something that had been missing for a damn long time.
Her fingers squeezed mine. “The number might have been wrong, but this… you and me… is just right."