She’s going? But I assumed she’d stay the night. My heart drops and my mouth is in action before I can stop it. “You’re not staying?” It sounds a bit accusing, and I really didn’t mean it to.
“Well, you have a house full, with Jake and Cami and the kids staying.” She comes to me and gives me a kiss on the cheek. It feels like a token gesture. Shit, have I touched a nerve with all that talk of babies? Did I say the wrong thing?
“My bed isn’t full,” I point out, unable to stop my forehead from creasing with a frown. Why’s she so keen to leave all of a sudden? God damn me, I did say the wrong thing, didn’t I?
Hannah gives me a soft smile. I don’t like that, either. It’s almost as if she feels sorry for me. “I’ve stayed so much. I don’t want Alex to think I’m invading.”
“She won’t think that,” I say urgently, considering going inside and dragging Alex from the TV to confirm I’m right. I don’t want Hannah to leave, especially now.
“I’ll stay tomorrow.” She heads inside to say her goodbyes to Alex and Charlotte, leaving me all alone, urgently rummaging through my mind for a plausible reason for her to stay. By the time she’s back, I have nothing other than I simply want her to. Is that enough?
Going to her bike, she kicks that stand up. “You’re not riding that home,” I bark abruptly, and she stills, her hands on the bars ready to get into the saddle. She regards me carefully, and I can tell she’s assessing me, seeing if this is a fight she’ll win. She won’t. I’m digging my boots in.
“Then I’ll walk.”
I laugh. “You’re not walking, Hannah.”
“So I can’t walk, you won’t let me go on my bike.” She kicks the stand back down and squares me with a look of challenge that I quite like.
“Can’t you just stay?” I ask. It makes sense.
On a dramatic sigh, she takes a beat and a few breaths. “It’s not fair to Alex. I already feel like I’ve bulldozed into her life. She needs her time with you, too. She needs to know I’m not here to steal all your attention.”
Though I’m very aware that she’s one hundred percent right, I can’t help feeling like there’s something more to it. Like me and my big foot in my mouth when I took a century to answer a question that obviously meant a lot to her. But damn, she caught me off guard. And now she’s leaving.
Reluctantly, I give in. I never want to force anything on her. “I’ll drive you,” I say, walking backward to the cabin. “Just give me a second.”
“You’ve been drinking.”
“I’ve had two beers since you arrived,” I assure her. It’s not a lie. “Wait there.”
I run inside to find Jake. “I’m just going to run Hannah home. You mind if I leave Alex with you?” At that very moment, I hear rip-roaring laughter, and both Jake and I turn to see the girls rolling around on the rug in front of the television.
“I might go join them,” Jake chuckles, slapping me on the shoulder. “See you in a bit.”
“Thanks, mate.” I snag my keys off the side, stuff my phone in my back pocket, and leave Jake and the girls behind belly laughing at The Goonies.
When I make it back outside, Hannah has taken the initiative to get in my truck without the need for me to physically put her in there. I hop in and reverse past Jake’s Range Rover as she tugs on her seat belt and settles in. And quiet falls.
It remains silent the whole five-minute drive to her store, and no matter how deep I dig into the corners of my mind, I can’t find anything to say. Actually, that’s a lie. I have loads to say, I just haven’t the fucking courage. A few times, I breathe in, intending to broach the subject we touched on earlier, wanting to clear the air. But each time I go to speak, I hear Hannah either swallow, breathe in, or shift in her seat, and I’m left wondering whether she’s sensed my intention to talk and is telling me in her own little way not to. Where does that leave me?
When I pull up outside her store, I’m about ready to declare my insanity, my head set to explode. I can’t bear this tension. The past few days have been complete and utter easy bliss. Now it’s hellish. I have to sort it.
She opens the door. “Hannah.” I reach across and grab her arm. “Wait a minute.”
Motionless for a moment, her wrist caught in my grasp, she gathers what strength she needs to face me. And the second she does, my words get caught up on my tongue and I find myself just staring at her. My fix-it speech is drowned out by clarity as I take her in, every inch of her. She’s still wearing my sweater, and she looks magnificent in it, no matter that it’s drowning her. Her clean skin, her haphazard hair, her clear eyes. Every part of Hannah Bright is breathtaking, and my breath is seriously taken right now. She has a good soul. She’s a free spirit and so kindhearted. All that matters to her is being happy and doing what she loves. She’s a breath of fresh air.
My reality has hit me. Or more like punched me full-force in the face.
I love her. I’m madly in love with her. This delicate, multifaceted woman has stolen my heart. Or taken it, because I haven’t once tried to stop her. What I need to know now is, does she realize what she’s done to me? And is there any chance she could feel the same?
I gulp down my apprehension. Just the fact that I’m not sure worries me. Each time I feel like I really know her, something happens to remind me that I don’t at all. And now I’ve had this revelation, all I keep thinking is…she doesn’t plan on staying in Hampton.
I gently release her arm and pull back. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say over my thick tongue, getting just a mild nod as she gets out, shutting the door and walking the few yards to her store. She lets herself in. Closes the door. And she doesn’t look at me once.
“Fuck.” I smack the steering wheel with the heel of my hand before pulling off quickly, my truck taking the brunt of my frustration. Do I tell her? Lay my heart at her feet and risk having it stamped on? I don’t think I’d feel so unsettled if I wasn’t in such a mess over the gun, her meltdown, and everything else that has clued me into the fact that there’s something I’m missing. Or something she’s not telling me. Because more disturbing is my fear that no matter what I do or how I feel, she’s afraid to love me in return. And that she will, in fact, leave me. And Alex.
So, what the fuck do I do now?
Chapter Twenty-Two
HANNAH
The darkness is a comfort for once. I hear his truck roar off up the high street, almost angrily, further cementing the fact that something has gone wrong between us somewhere this evening, and I’m really not sure what. Did he see me falter when I realized who Cami was? God, I thought I might have thrown up at her feet. I remember her well; she was a regular on the London scene. And then, naturally, I wondered if she recognized me. It took me a good few minutes to settle down and conclude that she didn’t, but it was touch-and-go for a moment. I had to stop myself from running out of the cabin.
Or was Ryan’s silence because of my answer to his question about children? I shouldn’t have been so honest, but in that moment, for the first time ever, I truly did see myself as a mother one day, and the realization had me forgetting myself for a second and putting it out there. I could see he was taken aback. His own answer should have made me think before spewing mine.
Or was his dip in mood because I refused to stay? There’s no denying I wanted to, but my reasoning about Alex, albeit partly true, wasn’t why I stuck to my guns. Truth be told, if I didn’t have somewhere to be in the morning, Ryan could have easily convinced me to stay. But I do have somewhere to be tomorrow. It’s Saturday, and if I don’t leave Hampton by nine o’clock at the latest, I’ll miss seeing Mum and Pippa. Staying at Ryan’s would have increased the risk, not to mention getting past the inevitable task of explaining why I have to leave before breakfast. I couldn’t say I need to open the store. He’d undoubtedly see it closed if he made a trip into town in the morning.
Feeling a little despondent, I make my way upstairs. Finding my iPad on the table by the sofa, I load Facebook
and click my sister’s name in the search bar. When Mum’s face comes up on my screen, I lower to the couch, tracing the edges of her cheek. Each week I get to see her from afar, I wonder if it’ll be the last time. A tear hits the screen of my iPad when I silently accept that I won’t even be able to say goodbye. Besides, I said farewell in my own little way many years ago. I only have to look at Mum’s empty eyes to know that she won’t even know who I am anymore. That’s both painful and comforting.
Making the picture as big as it can be without distorting it too much, I take a screenshot. Then I scroll through the rest of my sister’s previous profile pictures and do the same with them all, stopping when I come across one from six years ago when we had Mum moved into the care home. It was miles from London and me, but not so far from my sister. Given my restrained life, it made more sense for Mum to be nearer to Pippa.
In this picture, she’s smiling as she points at the fancy floral curtains in her new room, looking more alive and compos mentis. Back then, her good days outweighed her bad days. Now the bad days are taking over. I remember the day I visited and said my private goodbye to her. She was having a good day. To this day, I still don’t know whether I’m grateful or saddened by that. I remember holding on to her hand firmly as she talked to me. I remember Pippa looking at me questioningly each time my eyes filled with tears. I remember her laughing lightly when I attacked her with a cuddle so fierce when we left Mum’s room. And I remember the last words she said to me.
God, anyone would think we’re never going to see each other again. Get off me, you soppy twat.
Then she kissed me and tugged my hair before she danced off across the street.
I turn off my iPad and drag my heavy body up from the couch, suddenly so very tired. When I get to the bathroom, I pull off Ryan’s sweater, take off my clothes, and put the sweater back on. After brushing my teeth, I collect my clothes from the floor and dump them in the washing basket.
Then I fall into bed in a heap and roll onto my side, bringing the cuffs of Ryan’s sweater to my nose and inhaling his lingering scent, feeling so very lonely again.
* * *
My heart sinks when the heavens open and rain starts to pound on the windshield of the cab. There’s no way my sister will take Mum out in the rain. She might not take her out if it stops, either, especially if the sky is still dark. She won’t risk Mum catching a cold when her immune system isn’t good. I rest my head on the window, my despondency painful. Each week between seeing them feels like a century. Two weeks will feel like forever if I miss them today.
As we drive down the main street in Grange, my mobile rings and I answer on an over-the-top chirpy “Hi” to Molly.
“I popped by the store to check you’re all set for tomorrow, but you’re not here.” She sounds a little stressed; the organization and preparing for tomorrow’s celebrations are taking their toll.
I feel a little guilt sweep in and sting me. “I’m on my way to Grange to pick up some last-minute bits.” My lie is too easy to tell. “I need a few more canvases for the kids’ painting competition.”
“I thought you said there were enough?”
I did. There are enough. Molly was with me in the store earlier this week when we were going through the final schedule and plans for the fete. “I must have been having a brain fart day,” I say lamely.
She hums, and it’s light. Suspicious. “Or being distracted by a certain outdoorsy type.”
“And that,” I admit, unabashed. My relationship with Ryan is no secret in town. In fact, it’s caused quite a stir. It’s something to talk about in a place where there’s never anything to talk about. “I’ll be back in a few hours to help with the setting up.”
“Okay,” Molly says. “See you soon.”
I notice the windshield wipers have stopped and look up to the sky, seeing the black clouds moving rapidly away. Oh thank you, God.
The driver rolls to a stop and I jump out, paying him when he lets his window down. I turn and scan the entrance of the park and then quickly check the time. I’m early.
I make my way through the open ornate gate and down the path to my usual spot—a bench set back from the lake between two trees. From here I can see my sister push Mum in her chair the whole way around. I take a seat and look up to the sky, smiling when I see that the black clouds are no longer hanging over me, and then set my eyes on the entrance across the lake.
Each minute that passes feels like an hour as I wait for them to appear. I watch as dog walkers and runners pass, and across the plains a guy in army gear barks orders to a group of people in sweats doing push-ups. Where are they? I get up, I sit back down, and my disappointment starts to hurt my heart. I wait some more, because what else can I do? Give up? Leave? What if they’re running late? What if I miss them?
I remain on the bench, sadness my only company, my aching heart heavy in my chest. By ten fifty, I’ve lost the ability to hold back my tears. I feel so empty. As I brush at my cheeks with the back of my hand, my phone rings, and I feel terrible for wanting to reject Ryan’s call. After last night combined with how I’m feeling now, I can’t talk to him. Can’t force any happiness into my voice. My thumb hovers over the red button, and I close my eyes, pushing down. “I’m sorry,” I say to my phone, rising to my feet.
I take one more look around the park before forcing my dead muscles to life, walking back to the path, feeling so very heavy. I stop when Ryan calls again, but I let it ring off and find myself rolling my shoulders without thought, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I look back down the pathway, a sense of unease coming over me.
The black clouds are back, rolling through the sky violently, the wind whipping up and sending leaves swirling around my feet. I fold my arms across my chest, looking around the park. It’s suddenly quiet, everyone retreating as a result of the threatening storm.
I shake off my apprehension and hurry to the gates as I call for a cab, flinching when a crack of thunder sounds above. I make it to the road and search for a café or something to take shelter in until my taxi arrives. I don’t find a café.
I find something else.
My slowing heart kick-starts again, and I move quickly down the pavement, sure I’m not seeing things. I make it to the corner, just catching sight of my sister pushing my mother across the zebra crossing, back toward the care home.
My instinct to run after them nearly gets the better of me, the urge to see Mum’s face overwhelming. Pippa is pushing her away from me. I can’t see her. I need to see her. I quickly check the road and run across when the traffic clears, trying to get ahead of them, albeit at a safe distance. When they reach another road, my sister turns Mum’s wheelchair toward me.
And I stagger back in shock. “Oh my God,” I whisper, taking in the frail lady in the chair. Layers of blankets cover her legs, and a fleece hat is pulled down low on her head. But no matter how wrapped up she is, protected from the elements, I can see with frightening clearness how gray she looks. How lifeless. How weak and completely hollow. I’m shocked by the obvious drastic deterioration in just a week. The woman before me used to be the epitome of life. She used to sing as she painted. Her eyes used to shine constantly. Her hugs were full of love and her words always full of encouragement.
My sister walks around the wheelchair and pulls in Mum’s coat, rearranging the blankets around her legs. She continues to stare blankly forward, seeming oblivious to everything around her. I bring my hand to my mouth to hold back the quiet, devastated sob, and just then my mum’s empty gaze moves, looking across the road in my very direction. Our eyes meet, and the sob that I was containing escapes. “Mum,” I murmur, my voice broken and full to the brim with grief. She just stares at me, keeping me frozen on the spot. But her beautiful face remains expressionless. There’s nothing in her eyes. She’s there. But not there.
My sister’s hands still on Mum’s fleece hat mid-fix, and she turns, looking across the road to me, too. I quickly move back into a doorway
out of sight, my heart in my throat. I’m shaking uncontrollably. Did I move fast enough? Did my sister see me? I step forward and peek around the wall. Pippa is looking down the street, her frown heavy. Then she returns to Mum, who is now back to staring forward, and cups her face, leaning in and kissing her cheek before she gets back behind the chair and pushes on.
I fall against the wall on a strangled gasp, my breathing all over the place. I should go now. I should get in my cab and leave. I’ve already taken too much of a risk. I feel utterly deplete. Drained of energy and hope. Today I won’t be leaving Grange feeling my usual sadness whenever I steal these moments. Today I’ll leave with only fear.
Fear that next Saturday when I come, Mum won’t be here. And though I know it is plain cruel for her to live like this—the strong, vivacious, bold woman long gone, being replaced with an old lady I don’t recognize anymore—I can’t help but wish I could have these private times for a little longer.
I step out of the doorway with tears streaming down my cheeks, looking back as I go, trying to stop myself from mentally saying goodbye.
Chapter Twenty-Three
RYAN
I study Hannah walking down the street, her anguish palpable. Every minute I’ve watched her since she left Hampton, I’ve felt like an impostor. I almost made my presence known a number of times. I wanted to go to her, to cuddle her when she so clearly needed it. Seeing her looking so utterly broken killed me over and over.
From the corner where I’m standing, I look back, seeing the woman pushing the wheelchair has reached the end of the road. I wait to see which way she turns before I return my eyes to Hannah. I have to know who those women are, but I have to make sure Hannah is safely in a taxi first.
Leave Me Breathless Page 28
