Page 6 of From This Moment (After We Fall 4)
She was waiting for me to finish my sentence, and I swallowed. My throat was so dry. She was so beautiful. Say something. Say anything.
What happened next changed everything.
“Hannah, I—”
“There you are!” The bell over the door of the place jangled, and the energy in the room spiked. I knew instantly it meant Drew had walked in. He had a presence like that. “I knew I’d find you in here. Thought you wanted to come with us tonight.”
I looked up at Hannah, and saw the surprise on her face. “There are two of you?” She started to laugh. “Oh my God.”
“Well, there’s only one me.” Drew’s voice radiated confidence as he swooped in. “But that’s probably all a little thing like you can handle.”
I watched it happen.
Watched him charm her, say all the things I wanted to and couldn’t. Watched her expression change from outrage at his cocky flirtation to blushing pleasure at being the object of his attention. Watched the chemistry between them spark and start to sizzle.
“What are you doing tomorrow night?” he asked her. “A bunch of us are going to the Wings game. Want to come?”
“I’d love to.” She’d glanced at me. “Are you going too, Wes?”
I hesitated, debating the choice. I could say yes, and when Drew and I left tonight, I could tell him I had feelings for her, and he’d back off. On the other hand, if she really liked Drew, and the look on her face told me she did, it would be wrong to stand in the way. What girl would ever choose me over him, anyway? Plus, Drew’s residency was here in Detroit. He’d be around here the next few years, and I’d be gone. What was the point? “Nah. I have to study.”
“Come on, bro. Live a little. You’ve studied enough, you know this shit.” He dismissed my notes on Clinical Pharmacology with a wave of his hand. “You deserve a break.” To Hannah he said, “He’s always been like this. Way too hard on himself. Tell him not to be a hermit crab for once.”
She giggled. “Don’t be a hermit crab for once, Wes.”
I tried to smile. “You guys go.”
“You sure?” Drew put a hand on my shoulder.
“Yeah.” But you better be fucking good to her. More than once I’d had girls cry on my shoulder after Drew had moved on, but my loyalty had always been to him. This was the first time I was tempted to give him a warning—Hannah wasn’t just any girl.
A week later, he said, “Dude, thanks for introducing me to Hannah. I’m really into her.”
“No problem,” I said.
And that was that.
It wasn’t the first time—or the last—I gave up something up for my brother’s sake.
But it’s the time I regret most.
“I ran into Hannah at the store,” I told my mother, unpacking the bag of groceries I’d bought. On the drive home, I’d decided that it wasn’t Hannah herself who’d gotten to me; it was the visceral reminder of my brother. In Africa, I’d been able to throw myself into my work and disconnect from my grief. We’d been apart for so long, it was almost like I could pretend he was still alive, that he’d still be here when I got back. It had allowed me to cope. But seeing Hannah so visibly upset at the sight of me was a painful reminder that my brother was gone, and there was nothing I could do about it.
After the pain of missing my brother, I hated that the most. The helplessness. But a close third was the guilt I felt that he was gone and I was still here. He’d had a wife and daughter. It was hard not to lose myself to thoughts of it should have been me.
I braced myself on the counter and took a few deep breaths.
“Oh?” My mother was chopping vegetables and didn’t look up as I turned around. “Did you invite her for dinner?”
“I did, but she said she had plans.” I stuck some cheese in the fridge and a box of crackers in a cupboard.
“Plans? I wonder what kind of plans.”
“She didn’t say.” I could practically see the wheels spinning beneath my mother’s shellacked blond bob, which I was pretty sure had been in place since her sorority days at Tulane. Was there tension between her and Hannah? Drew had sometimes complained to me that our mother was hard on his wife despite everything Hannah did to please her. Both of us agreed it wouldn’t have mattered who either of us brought home—no one was ever going to be good enough for her boys. Deep in my gut I felt a stab of loneliness for my brother. How was it possible we’d never have those conversations again? I’ll stick up for Hannah, I promised him silently. That was something I could do to feel less helpless. To honor him.
“She’s been working way too much, bless her heart. The early hours she keeps are ridiculous, and I think she has a babysitter for Abby going on five days a week. You’d think she’d want some family time at night.” My mother never criticized anyone without blessing their heart. I think she felt like it smoothed the rough edges of whatever she was saying, but I could hear the disapproval in her tone.
“She’s a single parent. She’s got to work, doesn’t she?”
