Page 39 of From This Moment (After We Fall 4)
“Let me. Please.”
I felt her breath on my lips as her fingers fumbled with my belt.
Oh God, this was so fucked up. I wanted to do the right thing, but I was having trouble remembering what that was. I groaned as she slipped the button of my jeans through its hole and lowered my zipper.
“Hannah.” I grabbed her wrists, looked her right in the eye. The kitchen was bright enough that I could see her perfectly. She was breathless and wild-eyed and so fucking beautiful. But this wasn’t right—I could see it in her face. She was in pain. Desperately lonely and longing for someone…but how could I be sure it was me? What if she was missing Drew right now and I was just a close enough second? What if I disappointed her? What if Drew had some sort of magic dick or she expected me to know all his moves? Even worse, what if we
did this tonight and she regretted it tomorrow? She wasn’t in her right frame of mind right now.
And she trusted me.
“You don’t want to do this,” I said.
“Fuck you. Yes, I do.” She struggled against me, but I had her arms captured at her sides. Tears of frustration glassed her eyes. “You don’t know how I feel.”
“I know you’re lonely. I know you miss Drew. I know that you’re angry, maybe even at Drew for cheating on you, and this feels like a way to get back at him.”
“Right now, I’m angry at you.” She gave me a look that threatened to singe my skin. “Let me go.”
I waited another few seconds until she stopped struggling, and then released her wrists. Immediately she slapped me, a bare palm right across the cheek. Not that hard, not that painful, but still, it stung. I grimaced, closing my eyes for a second. “Goddammit, Hannah. I’m doing the right thing.”
“Fuck you!” she cried, loud enough to wake Abby. “Fuck you and everyone else for telling me how I feel or what to feel or when I can feel it.” She pointed directly at my chest, where my heart was cracking in two. “If you didn’t want me, you should have just said so.” With tears spilling over, she turned and ran out of the room, and I heard her feet pounding up the stairs a few seconds later.
Exhaling, I ran a hand over my jaw and stood there for a moment, mad as fuck. Hadn’t I done the right thing? Hadn’t I saved us both from the wretched fallout of what would certainly have been a terrible mistake? Did she know how easily I could have let it happen, how fast I could have torn off her clothes, thrown her down, and fucked her right there on the kitchen floor? Or on the table? Or standing right here with her legs wrapped around me, my hands gripping her ass as I drove into her again and again and again?
Fuck. I adjusted myself and zipped up my pants, but my dick stubbornly refused to surrender.
So now what? Did I just leave? Let her think I didn’t want her? Let her believe she’d imagined the closeness between us? I’d felt it too, all damn day. I’d practically had to sit on my hands all afternoon to keep from touching her again after I lost my senses and ran my fingers down her back. But I hadn’t been able to resist.
And then when she’d asked me tonight if I ever wished things were different for us, I answered honestly before I even had time to consider the consequences of the truth. Instead, I’d given her the invitation, hadn’t I? I’d essentially admitted to feeling something for her, knowing how vulnerable and lonely she was. Knowing how conflicted she’d been feeling earlier today about Drew. Knowing that when she looked at me, she felt something stir inside her—even if it wasn’t for me. I’d taken advantage of that.
This was all my fucking fault.
Sighing, I made sure the back door was locked, turned off the light in the kitchen and made my way through the hall toward the front door. At the landing of the staircase, I paused and listened to the wrenching sound of muffled sobs. My heart couldn’t take it. I had one foot on the bottom step before my head took over and forced me out the front door, pulling it tightly shut behind me and double checking it was locked. It was.
I needed to protect her, even if it was from myself.
Especially if it was from myself.
I’d told Abby I’d see about walking her to school in the morning, but under the circumstances felt that would be a bad idea. Instead, after a sleepless night spend berating myself and worrying about Hannah, I decided I’d leave Abby a note instead. I could drop it off on my morning run.
I dressed quickly and went downstairs to the kitchen. The sun was just rising over the lake, a yellow-orange ball setting fire to the clouds around it and turning the horizon pink. I ripped off a sheet of paper from the notepad my mom used for grocery and to-do lists and snagged a pen from her desk.
Dear Abby,
I’m sorry I can’t be there to walk you to school today, but I wanted to wish you good luck! I know you will have a great first day and I will be excited to hear all about it. Take a picture for me!
Love,
Uncle Wes
P.S. Don’t drink the water from the fountain on the playground. It tastes terrible.
I found an envelope in my mom’s desk drawer too, and was just sliding the note inside it when she appeared in the kitchen in a flowery robe and slippers. She still had her hair pinned and her hairnet on, and I laughed, like Drew and I always had at her morning appearance. She looked like something from a 1950s sitcom. The memory sent an ache of longing for my brother through me.
“Wesley Parks, what are you doing up at this hour? And stop that laughing, I’m your mother.” Mildly miffed, she went to the coffee pot and began filling it with water.
“Sorry, Mom. Good morning.” I went over and kissed the cheek she offered. “I’m going to take a run. What are you doing up this early?”
