Page 20 of Echo’s Secret

"For a while. Got a job at a daycare. Loved the kids. Hated the pay. Still had to work a second job to make ends meet. Then the daycare closed. The owner retired and nobody wanted to buy it. I was back to waitressing and cleaning offices."

She takes a long drink of coffee. Her hands are steadier now. Telling the story seems to be calming her down somehow.

"That's when I thought about you," she says. "I was alone and tired. And I remembered this boy from Sacred Heart who understood what it was like to be completely alone in the world. Wondered if he was still alive. Still surviving."

"You found me through mutual connections."

"Yeah. Some girl from Sacred Heart who knew someone who knew someone. She mentioned your name. Said you were in Millhaven. I almost didn't reach out."

"Why did you?"

She meets my eyes. "Because I was lonely. And I thought maybe you were too. And maybe two lonely people who understood each other could be less lonely together."

The honesty in her voice hits me hard. That's exactly what it was. Two people from the same broken place trying to be less alone.

"We talked for weeks before we even met in person," I say, remembering.

"Two months. Every night. I'd get home from work, and we'd talk until two in the morning. About everything. About nothing. About what it was like to grow up the way we did."

"You drove three hours to meet me."

"Well, you did offer to come to me, and I said no. I wanted to see where you ended up. What you built for yourself."

I remember that weekend. How nervous I was. How she showed up looking exactly like I remembered but older, more tired, more guarded. How we spent two days just talking. Walking around Millhaven. Sitting in coffee shops. Getting to know the adults we'd become.

"It wasn't supposed to be romantic," Hannah says. "At least that's what I told myself."

"Me too."

"But it was. Almost immediately."

"Yeah."

She's quiet for a moment. "I've never felt that way about anyone. Before or since. Like I could actually let my guard down. Like maybe it was safe to want something."

"Why did you leave?" I ask. The question I've been avoiding. "You said you needed to figure some things out. What did you need to figure out?"

She looks down at her plate. "I was falling in love with you. Real love. Not the casual thing we were pretending it was. And that terrified me. I didn't know how to do that," she continues. "How to love someone. How to trust that you wouldn't leave. Everyone always leaves. Everyone always has. So, I left first. Before you could hurt me."

"I wouldn't have hurt you."

"I think I know that now. I didn't know it then." She looks up, eyes bright with unshed tears. "And then I found out I was pregnant and I was so scared. Because if I told you, and you stayed, I'd have to trust that you'd keep staying. And if I told you and you left anyway, it would break me. So, I decided to handle it alone."

"Until you ran out of options."

"Until I ran out of options," she agrees. "And even then, driving here, I almost turned around a dozen times. Almost convinced myself I could figure it out some other way. But Theo's surgery date was set, and I was out of time and you were the only person I could think of who might actually help without making me feel like I owed something I couldn't pay back."

Claire appears with the coffee pot again. We both wave her off. The booth feels like its own private world right now.

"I would have helped," I say. "Even if Theo wasn't mine. Even if you'd just called as an old friend asking for help. I would have helped."

"I believe you." She wipes at her eyes quickly. "Which is terrifying in its own way. Because now I have to figure out what to do with that."

"What do you want to do with it?"

"I want to stay. At the clubhouse. With you and the club and all these people who welcomed me like I belonged there. I want Theo to have the surgery and get better. And I want to figure out what we are to each other without the panic and fear driving every decision."

"That sounds good to me."