Page 19 of Fall For Me
Plucking the joint from between her fingers earns me a glare, but I crush the end into the ashtray anyway, not giving a single fuck.
“This is stupid, Hannah.”
“Never claimed to be smart.”
“I understand you’ve been angry with me, and for good reasons. But the bitterness, doing stupid shit like going to a sex club and now this . . .” I hold up the joint. “It’s not like you.”
A piece of hair hangs in front of her face, and she blows it out of her eyes. “Not every fucking thing is about you, Sean. And people change.”
“Not like this.”
Avoiding eye contact, she stares out over the pool in the backyard, a turquoise hue dancing across her features.
“What would you know about the ins and outs of people? You don’t give a rip about anyone but yourself, isn’t that right, Mac?” She laughs under her breath and shakes her head. “I take that back. You care about yourself and whatever next piece of ass falls into your new bed, but only for the time they’re in it. How are those new restraints working out for you?” I go to open my mouth to tell her I bought that bed for her, but she cuts me off. “You know what? I really don’t care to know. Fucking leave.”
She stands to go inside, but I grab her by the hand and pull her into my lap. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”
“Since when do you get to demand answers from me?” she snaps, glaring at me.
“Since the day you became mine.”
Rolling her eyes, she tries to stand again, but I hold her in place. She grabs my wrists, digging her nails into them, and demands through clenched teeth, “Let go of me!”
“Keep fighting, sweetheart, you know it makes my dick hard. Now fucking tell me, what the hell has gotten into you?”
Shoulders slumping, she hangs her head without answering the question. After a long bout of silence, her voice draws my attention away from the coyotes howling somewhere in the distance.
“I’m so damn angry with you,” she says, though she sounds more defeated than angry. “It’s almost as if you don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me either. I was willing to give us another chance after you ended things. You told me you wanted me back, then you stood in that parking lot and let me walk back into the gala without you, never once proving a damn thing, other than the fact that you don’t appreciate others playing with your toys. Which was reiterated when you stormed into Elixir the other night. Then you sabotaged Aiden’s coffee so he couldn’t come here with me. Do you realize how fucked up that is? I needed him, Sean!”
Envy floods my veins. Their friendship has always been an insecurity for me. Like the other night when she called him . . . he’s the first person she calls when things go sideways, and without fail, he’s always quick to drop everything and come running to her.
Hannah’s voice breaks me from my thoughts. “This entire trip was planned to take my mind off things before the doctors remove the last organ that makes me feel like a woman, and you ruined it.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“I have a genetic mutation that causes cancer; it’s called BRCA1. The marijuana you caught me smoking is medicinal. My oncologist suggested that THC might help with the stress and anxiety of it all.”
Everything fucking stops. Sound. Movement. My fucking heart.
“On-Oncologist?”
“I don’t have cancer . . . that’s what my team of doctors are trying to prevent.” She picks at her shirt; the cotton pulls away from her chest, then falls back into place. “They’ve already taken my breasts. There’s nothing under here except a sports bra with prosthetic inserts. And soon the doctors will take my ovaries and uterus too. My body doesn’t look the same. I’m not the same. I will never be the same. Stop wasting your time. Go back to New York.”
I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t speak.
She looks away, and I swear to God, I’ve never felt so much pain in my fucking life. My chest squeezes so tight it steals the air from my lungs. Something wet rolls over my cheeks, and I wipe it away. An indicator that she means way more than I ever allowed her to believe. Fuck, if I’m being honest, she means more than I allowed myself to believe. I don’t cry. Foranyone. Yet here I am, a man broken by her confession.
“Please leave,” she says, her voice cracking.
“Dammit, Hannah, I’m not leaving you,” I argue, holding her tighter and resting my chin on top of her head.
“This week is about me, not me and you,” she says, pulling away from me. “It’s been a long day. Stay or don’t. At this point, I don’t care. I’m too tired to fight with you about it.”
My hands trail down her thighs as she stands and looks at me with so much damn sadness in her eyes it makes me physically ill. Then she walks through the door without a backward glance.
Fuck!
Why fucking her? She’s the kindest person I’ve ever met, with sucha pure heart. Always smiling. Always pleasing everyone. Doing whatever she can to make everybody else happy. Rage fills me at the unfairness of all of this, and I swipe my hand across the table, sending the ashtray flying. It lands on the concrete patio with a crash, and I bury my head in my hands.
