Page 9 of ’Til You Break

I can see that she wants to say more. I can see it in the little pout on her lips.

For her sake, I hope she doesn’t.

“How are you?” I ask instead, steering the conversation away from myself.

Rather than making polite conversation about something I don’t care about, I should remind her that curiosity killed the cat. Whatever interest she has in my behavior last night should stay exactly where it belongs—in her own thoughts.

After all, I’ve already set the boundaries. And I’ve forbidden her from entering the parts of the house that might satisfy her curiosity.

“Good,” she answers, a little awkwardly.

I pick up my coffee and take a sip. Lukewarm. Far too sweet.

Not my favorite.

“And the job hunt?” I look at her face now to gauge her reaction. Will she tell me the truth? In all likelihood, I don’t expect much to have changed since yesterday, but it keeps the conversation moving, and her replies might tell me something about how she sees herself and her situation.

I am reminded that small talk isn’t my thing. I’d much rather eat breakfast in silence while thinking about the day ahead—or the night before.

Another adjustment I’ll have to make.

“Also, good,” she says, but the answer catches in her throat, as though her conscience won’t let the lie come easily.

She drinks half a glass of orange juice before trying again.

“In fact, I’ve got an interview today.”

“Wonderful.” My enthusiasm matches hers.

I don’t believe a word of it.

I try to reserve judgment where I can. When Hannah asked for help, I didn’t question her because it wasn’t my place to do so. She’s an adult, and if she doesn’t want to tell me why she needed somewhere to stay, I won’t force the issue.

But now, the hesitation in her voice tells a different story.

It’s hard to believe that a highly qualified nurse can’t find work in New York. That makes me wonder if she lied about how she ended up here.

Not that it matters.

I have enough money to support a thousand lifetimes. Hannah isn’t a financial burden.

Even so, curiosity is getting the better of me.

When we were children, she was always the golden child. Bright-eyed. Full of life. Everything our parents wanted—everything I could never be.

I’ve kept my distance over the years, so I know very little about the family now. Even so, a fall from grace like this doesn’t fit the Hannah I remember.

That leaves one question. What happened? What did she do?

Before I can lose myself in the thought, Hannah’s expression softens.

“But there is something I wanted to talk to you about. Last night...”

I hate where this is going already.

The hard points of her nipples press against the thin fabric of her shirt, making it far too easy to lose track of what she’s saying. I only half listen while I watch her.

“Okay, before I go on, promise you won’t think I’m crazy?” she asks.