Page 54 of From This Moment (After We Fall 4)
“Are you getting enough sleep? You’re working pretty long hours.”
“I’m fine, Mom.” The long hours were by choice, an
attempt to distract myself from longing for Hannah, but it hadn’t worked. The memory of that night at her house assaulted me approximately every half a second. On my early morning jogs. While I was in the shower. As I drove to work. During my lunch break. Even when I was immersed in caring for patients, she was always there at the back of my mind, a spectral presence with messy hair and bare feet and soft lips and warm skin, kissing me, touching me, inviting me inside her. And the things she’d said—every time I remembered hearing those words in her sweet, breathless voice, heat rose in my body and I’d have to loosen my tie.
I want you to fuck me.
I want all of you.
I want to come for you.
Come with me.
I want to feel it.
Jesus Christ, I had gone off like a rocket. And not a small rocket either. One of those deep space rockets. A fucking NASA-level rocket. A mission to Mars. I still couldn’t believe I’d done it. Sometimes I wondered what the hell was in those beers I’d drunk. Other times I supposed it had nothing to do with my blood alcohol level and everything to do with the fact that I’d wanted her for way too long. Even a gentleman runs out of patience sometimes.
But I was beginning to think I wasn’t much of a gentleman anyway.
“When will you hear back from Brad?” my mother asked.
“He said in the next day or so,” I said, realizing I’d been standing there dumbstruck in front of the toaster with two slices of bread in my hand. I stuck them in. “By Monday for sure.”
I’d made an offer on a house just north of town. It wasn’t perfect, needed new flooring and paint and a kitchen remodel, but it was a good size, right on the lake, and nicely secluded. Best of all, it was not walking distance from my parents’ house, at least not for them. And I needed some projects to keep me busy anyway.
“You know, there’s no rush to move out.” She cracked the eggs into the bowl and tossed the shells into the sink. “If that house isn’t what you want, you can stay here as long as you want.”
“I know, Mom. Thanks.” What I wanted was something I couldn’t have. Didn’t really matter where I lived.
That said, I needed some fucking privacy. My mother had even taken to coming into my room while I was at work and collecting my dirty laundry, putting it through the wash, and returning it to my drawers, all folded up in neat little piles. She packed my dad a lunch every day and insisted on packing me one too. She fussed over me constantly, worried I was exercising too hard, working too much, and had no social life whatsoever. I tolerated it because I loved her and knew she loved me, but damn, she could be overbearing.
When my sandwich was done, I sat at the island to eat it and listened to her babble over the whir of the electric mixer, but I mostly tuned her out and thought about Hannah.
I’d gone over our conversation that night a thousand times. Had I been wrong? Had she been telling the truth when she said it had been about Drew for her? I racked my brain, searching for any clue I might have missed in her behavior, in her voice, in her eyes. But I couldn’t find one. She’d wanted me. She’d said my name. She’d held onto me so tight, like she never wanted to let go.
Or was that wishful thinking? Maybe she had been thinking of Drew the whole time. Maybe the panic attack had stemmed from the realization of what she’d done, from the guilt and shame of dishonoring his memory. Maybe she really had given in just because she was lonely and I was a safe opportunity, like she’d said before.
Good old Wes. A safe opportunity fuck. But nothing more.
After a long run on the beach that afternoon, I took a shower, got dressed, and poured myself some scotch. It had been a beautiful late summer day, and the temperature was still in the upper sixties at five o’clock. I took my drink out onto the deck and stood looking out at the lake, which always had a calming effect on my nerves. The house I’d offered on didn’t have a deck, but I planned to remedy that if the purchase went through. I wanted bigger windows on the east side too, but that might have to wait a while.
Behind me, I heard the sliding door rumble open and shut. I thought maybe it was my dad joining me with a stiff drink of his own (away from my mother’s watchful eyes), so I was surprised when I heard Hannah’s voice.
“Hi.”
I turned, and my heart beat faster at the sight of her. “Hi.”
She wandered to my side, a glass of white wine in her hand and. “Want company?”
“Sure.” I brought my glass to my lips, but it was Hannah I drank in. Her hair swung loose around her shoulders tonight. She didn’t often wear it down, and I saw now how summer had dusted the brown with gold. My stomach muscles tightened—she was still the prettiest woman I’d ever seen. Her shoulders were on display in the top she wore, and I was dying to press my lips to one of them. She had perfect shoulders. Why hadn’t I kissed them when I had the chance?
“How’ve you been?” she asked. She was nervous, I could tell.
“Fine,” I said, using our code word for not fine at all. “You?”
She turned to face the lake. Took a sip of wine. “Fine.”
Conversation in the kitchen drifted through the screen, and I selfishly hoped no one would come out here. I wanted her to myself just a few minutes more. “Been busy?”
