Page 29 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Biker

Hannah had promised to return the tuxes this morning. I’d overheard Lyra ask her to take them when the place opened at noon. That meant I still had the chance to catch her before she left town.

I got in my truck. Sat there for a second with the engine idling.

Then I pulled out my phone and typed:

Me: I need a plus-one.

Same words she'd sent Thursday night. Redirected on purpose this time. I didn't wait for her to reply before starting to drive.

At the red light halfway to her cabin, I typed the follow-up:

Me: For what? Everything after this weekend.

I didn't send it yet. I'd say it at her door if she opened it.

Hannah opened the door holding her toiletry bag. She wasn't fully packed. Her suitcase sat open on the bed behind her, half-filled, like she'd started and stopped.

She looked at me. Didn't say anything.

I didn't lead with I love you. I led with the truth she'd asked for.

"I knew," I said. "Thursday night. When you sent that first message. I didn't suspect. I knew it was meant for Everett."

She didn't move.

"I drafted the correction," I continued. "Typed it out. Deleted it. Every text after that was a choice I made for you."

Her jaw tightened, but she let me keep going.

"I'd spent years assuming you were off-limits," I said. "And thirty seconds of a mistaken message was the first time you'd ever asked me for anything. I couldn't make myself hand it back. Everything after that made the first lie harder to undo. By the time you were at my place Saturday night, telling me you wanted me knowing everything, I was so far gone that saying it out loud felt like it would break everything."

I stopped. Swallowed.

"I was wrong," I said. "Not because loving you was wrong. Because taking your choice away by not correcting the mistake was."

Her eyes searched mine. I had to keep going. Had to get it all out or I was afraid I never would.

"I love you," I said. "I've loved you since before I had any right to. That doesn't undo what I did. But if you'll let me try, I'll spend the rest of my life telling you the truth even if it costs me everything.”

Silence.

Then Hannah said, "If I text you tomorrow, will you tell me the truth?"

"Yes."

"Even if it's something I don't want to hear?"

"Especially then."

She looked at me for a long moment. Then she smiled. It was small but real. “Okay.”

Then she stepped back from the door. Not to close it. To let me in.

We sat on the wide back porch of the cabin in silence for a long time, watching the light filter through the trees.

"Do you drink coffee or tea in the mornings?”

She looked at me, her brows creased in the middle. "Coffee. Always coffee. Why?”