The last time he’d been here she hadn’t wanted him anywhere near her and for good reason. He held little hope she’d want him here now. But he couldn’t stay away.
He’d made it up the first two steps when the door opened. The light from inside framed Hannah against the dark night like a halo. She wore pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved T-shirt—thin, no bra. His mouth went dry and he wet his lips, tried to swallow. “Hey.”
She didn’t reply to his brilliant greeting.
He jerked his hands from his pockets, ran them through his hair, and stuck them back. “I wanted to talk to you. I need to talk to you.” He knew she thought it was the scars, and that whole, it’s not you, it’s me thing was rarely successful. But that’s all he had because it was him. He wouldn’t leave until he’d convinced her of that.
They stared at each other, she with narrowed eyes as if trying to read his intentions, and he with the hot feeling he always got when he looked at her. She seemed different. Tired, or maybe just resigned to the fact that he was an ass. But she opened the door wider and stepped back into the space.
His heart pounded as he climbed the remaining step and closed the door. When he turned, she was at the sink, her back to him.
Her hair was piled on her head in a messy bun. He missed touching it. Smelling it. Missed seeing her smile and kissing her lips. He missed her. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m fine.” She continued drying a bowl and placed it upside on a towel.
“You were in the hospital.”
Her body stilled. “Who told you that?”
“Nick.”
She sighed and he felt her unease from across the quiet room, saw her shoulders drop. She hadn’t wanted him to know. She finished her task, set a dried glass on the counter, and unplugged the sink to drain. When she turned around he was hit hard, as always. So beautiful, delicate almost, but her eyes met his, bold and brave. “I had an anxiety attack. It passed and now I’m fine.”
So bad she had to go to the hospital? And fine? The shadows under her eyes said something different. “I don’t know what to say. No.” He blew out a shaky breath and scrubbed both hands over his face. “That’s not true. I know a lot of things to say and none of them are right. None of them are enough.”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“Yes. I do. I just…” He shook his head, searching for the right words. When he looked up, saw the hurt in her eyes even through the layers she’d tried to pull over it, he gave up on words. He crossed the room, took her face in his hands because he couldn’t be in the same room with her and not touch her.
He brushed his thumbs over the bruises under her eyes. Their eyes held, faces just inches apart. “You look tired.”
“I haven’t been sleeping well.” Her hands came up to circle his wrists and she stared right into him. “I was worried about you.”
And just like that she knocked him on his ass again. He dropped his forehead to hers and took a long, steadying breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry. When I heard everything that had happened to you, I…” He straightened but didn’t meet her gaze. “I went crazy.”
“Ha.” She gave a derisive laugh. “I think it’s obvious I’m the one who’s crazy.”
“No you’re not.” He brought his eyes back to hers and his fingers tightened in her hair. “You’re the bravest, strongest, most amazing person I’ve ever known and…I didn’t handle it well. I don’t…handle things well. Not for the past few years anyway. I— Shit, this is hard.” But he would do it.
“Come sit.” He took her by the hand, led her to the couch, and tugged until she was in his lap. Just having her in his arms loosened the tightness in his chest and he took his first full breath in days.
He pulled her back against him and cleared his throat, gathering himself to say what he rarely said. “I was engaged a few years ago. Five. She was killed. Murdered.” He adjusted Hannah in his lap before going on.
“It was two weeks before the wedding and I wasn’t there. She went out for a drink with friends and some guys followed her home, forced her inside.” He told her all of it, poured it out like a dam had burst.
She didn’t flinch, didn’t gasp or make him pull back from a single detail. He was both awed and comforted by her strength, by Hannah, who was nothing but good, yet strong enough to face evil and live through it. Better than he had.
But he didn’t tell her that, how not okay he was. Couldn’t tell her that her nightmares were probably pretty close to his fantasies. That the only way he could cope with the agony of that event was to imagine himself doing ten times worse to the perpetrators. His hand fisted on the arm of the couch so tightly it shook.
Hannah covered it with her own, immediately easing him.
He didn’t deserve her. He should leave this house right now and never look back. Never touch her again. But instead he wrapped his arms around her even tighter. “I’m sorry, baby. I should have stayed. I should have made it better instead of worse. It’s not that I didn’t want to hear it, that I wanted you to stop. I wanted it to stop. I wanted what had happened to you to stop and—”
“It’s okay.”
No, but it was getting there. And the knot that was his entire body began to loosen. The weight that had crushed him for days lessened.