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As my head hits the front door behind me, my phone rings, taking me out of my pity party and back into reality. When the screen lights up and I see that Lucas is calling me, I sigh, knowing exactly why he’s calling. I answer with a grunt, rolling my eyes at the chuckle that meets my ears.
“Hello to you too. I see your mood hasn’t improved since you left the office.” His voice is light, but I ignore it, choosing to stay in my state of heartache for a little bit longer.
I can’t blame Luke for calling. He is one of my best friends and I do work with him almost every day when he’s not at his buddy’s body shop working on motorcycles. Creating a security firm with your four best friends sounds like a good idea when you’re in college and all you care about is drinking and girls, but now that we’re older, I’ve come to realize that working with your best friends tends to get old very fast. Drew created the company with Luke and hired Max and Mark, who are twins, and me when all of us talked about hating the corporate world and wanting to do something different with our lives. It’s been a perfect setup so far, except for the fact that my best friends are now in every aspect of my business and won’t get their noses out of it.
“What do you want?” I ask, pushing myself off the door and making my way into the kitchen, and opening the fridge. My stomach grumbles, reminding me that if I don’t feed it soon, I’ll regret it.
“I wanted to see if you wanted to come over and play the new Madden that just came out.”
I know that’s a load of bullshit, this phone call has nothing to do with video games and everything to do with wanting to talk. Out of all of my friends, Luke is the one that has the biggest heart and wants to make sure everything is okay, but right now I just want to wallow in my own self-pity before I go to bed, and pray I can get a full night’s sleep.
“Not tonight,” I mutter as my eyes scan the shelves and see an unopened jar of pickles, a few beers, and half an avocado. Fuck, I really need to go shopping tomorrow. I close the fridge and brace my hand on the stainless steel.
“Are you sure? I know today is rough for you—” His voice breaks off as I groan, my head hitting the fridge door, sending a flicker of pain down my spine.
Of course, he knows what today is, that’s just who Luke is, and right now I’m hating him for it.
“Look, I know you mean well, but I just need to be alone tonight. I promise I will be back to normal tomorrow.”
Luke sighs, both of us knowing that’s a lie and tomorrow will be more of the same.
“Fine, but please don’t get drunk and call me at three in the morning like you did last year,” he jokes, but we both know that’s what happened last year, and most likely the years before that.
“Lucky for you, I only have two beers in the fridge, so you’re safe for at least another year.”
Luke chuckles softly, the images of Hannah filtering through my brain as I shut my eyes, willing them to go away.
“I’m here if you want to talk.”
I grunt before saying my goodbyes. As much as my friends want to understand what I’m going through, none of them do. Hannah wasn’t just my best friend and girl I longed for in the shadows; she was my other half. My mother used to call her my soul mate, saying that she always knew that Hannah and I were destined to meet. From the day she moved across the street, introduced herself, and demanded I be Ken to her Barbie, I was a goner. But I took too long to realize her importance in my life, took too long, and now I have to live with that mistake every goddamn day.
I open the freezer door, hoping there’s some redeemable food in there to eat and when I spot the frozen pizza near the back, I inwardly thank my lazy past self for knowing a night like this was coming. I take out the pizza, place it in the oven and take out one of the two beers in my fridge. I fall against my couch, sinking into the cushions as I turn on the TV hoping there’s something on that can drown out this overwhelming feeling of failure coursing through my body.
An hour later, I’m finishing the pizza, watching a reality show about British baked goods while nursing my last beer when I hear a knock at my front door. I roll my eyes, knowing it’s probably Luke or even Drew checking in on me because neither of them can leave me alone long enough to make me miss them.
I hoist myself off the couch, walking toward the door and as I open it, I yell, “You know you fuckers need to take a hint and leave me the fuck alone.” But the second I open the door and see that mass of blonde hair, I freeze. It’s not Drew or Luke in front of me, it’s Hannah and she looks like someone beat the crap out of her.
Hannah
Seconds. That’s all it takes for Cash to open the door, but for me, it feels like hours. My hands shake as the door opens and his confused face comes into focus. Jesus, of course, he still looks as gorgeous as he did the day I left him, with his mess of sandy hair that just grazes his shoulders and black-framed glasses that amplify his deep-brown eyes. For lack of a better term, Cash Harris has grown up and not in the way I expected. He’s strong, intimidating, and the sense of loss I feel as my eyes meet his is almost all-consuming. The man I knew is gone, replaced with this stranger standing in front of me, and yet why do I feel a sense of calm wash over me the second he opens his front door?
I knew coming here after all these years would be a risk. I knew there was a chance that the man I left behind would still hate me for what I did, and from the way his brown eyes furrow before widening, he recognizes me. There’s something else lingering in his gaze, something I can’t quite put a finger on, but I’m guessing it’s a mixture of anger and shock. The way his gaze lingers on my eye, drifting slightly to the marks on my neck, causes my fingers to fidget as I shift from one foot to the other.
“I’m sorry for barging in like this…” I mutter, my voice cracking as my eyes flick to the ground as I second-guess every action that has led me to his front step. “I—” My voice breaks, the tears that I’ve held in for the past few hours come crashing out, cresting and falling down my cheeks. “I didn’t know where else to go.” I take a breath, my head tilting upward to meet his gaze, his eyes unflinching and unreadable. “I know you probably hate me, and I don’t blame you…” I start but stop when strong arms wrap around me, pulling me against his chest.
For a singular moment, I bask in the warmth of his touch, sinking farther into him as even bigger sobs break through the brick wall I’ve created from years of pain. Without thought, my arms wrap around his waist, pulling myself closer, closing my eyes as his lips graze my temple, a sense of security I haven’t felt in years washing over me.
I don’t know what I expected when he opened that door, but this was not it. The familiarity of this moment cuts deeper than I expected and I pull away, wiping the tears from my face as he leads me into the house, closing the door behind me. My eyes take in the space, noticing that nothing has really changed in the years I’ve been gone, save for a few pictures missing from the walls. I try not to think about the fact that the pictures that are glaringly missing from his walls are all the ones I was in, but at this point, I don’t blame him for trying to forget me. I broke us and I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life.
Without a word, he takes my hand in his, his fingers whispering over my skin as he motions for me to sit on the couch, his eyes watching every move I make. I used to crave this feeling, the way his eyes would watch me from afar. I always figured it was a brotherly protection thing, but at this moment I can see a glimmer of desire and that alone causes my heart to race as I let go of his fingers, needing space.
“Are you really here?” he whispers, sitting beside me, putting as much space between us as he can and I’m grateful because right now, being near him is overwhelming and incredibly distracting. “How are you here?” His voice is barely above a whisper as his eyes swoop over me, lingering on the bruises that mar my neck. His hand lifts, his eyes never leaving mine as his fingers whisper over my skin.
“Cash?” I murmur, tears silently falling as the sensation of his touch wraps around me. My hands shake as I circle my fingers around his wrist, pulling his hand away from my skin.
“What happened?” He phrases it like a question, but his dark stare takes my breath as I shake my head. “Hannah, who did this to you?” His eyes linger on my eye once more, my fingers lightly touching the edge of the cut I know is visible from where he’s sitting.
Cash isn’t a stupid man. He knows who did this to me, but from the way his eyes won’t leave mine, I know he’s waiting for confirmation.
