How the hell was his voice so steady? How were his hands so sure as they ran through her hair? Because Hannah felt as if her body and her soul were shaking at different frequencies, like she could fall out of her own flesh at any moment. Her heart pounded so hard, she was worried it might actually come loose. That didn’t sound medically possible, but anxiety could be a real bitch sometimes.
“Hannah,” Evan murmured, “you should come over here.”
She wanted to ask why, but she already knew her voice would be humiliatingly shaky. In the end, it didn’t matter, because Nate carried the conversation for her. “Why? She’s fine here.”
“With you?” She’d never seen Evan angry before. It had never really occurred to her that he could be angry. He was so eternally cheerful, so self-assured and utterly implacable. But right now he seemed absolutely furious, his voice hard. “Forgive me if I don’t trust the guy who runs around grabbing his employees.”
Nate flinched as if the words were a blow. She wanted to take his hand. She wanted to say something. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t move. She felt cold sweat dripping down her spine, followed by the icy finger of self-doubt and a white-hot blade that felt a lot like pain.
And then, through it all, resignation. Cold, heavy, unavoidable.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” Nate said, “but this is not whatever the hell you’re thinking.”
“Well what the fuck is it?” Zach snapped. “Because it looks pretty fucking bad, Nate.”
“Hannah and I—”
For some reason, those were the words that unlocked Hannah’s stiff jaw and watered her dry throat. Those were the words that allowed her lungs to function again. Those were the words that inspired her to step in front of Nate and voice her deepest fear as if it were the truth.
“It’s nothing, Zach. This is nothing.” Her laugh sounded so real, so genuine—a touch of embarrassment, a dash of self-deprecation. “An experiment, I suppose. Nate was just humouring me. Honestly, I’d rather not explain.” She rolled her eyes at her own strange ways. “It’s complicated. But nothing to worry about.” Her gaze focused on Evan. “Really. I swear. It’s nothing.”
There was a heavy pause. And then Nate said, his voice hollow, “Right. Nothing.”
She whipped her head around to look at him. He was watching her with the very worst emotion on earth written all over his face.
Disappointment.
Hannah couldn’t bear the sight of it. It triggered a tight iron mesh in her mind, one that covered her thoughts like an unnavigable blanket. If she’d battled through the barrier, she’d have found reasonable notions like, This isn’t that big of a deal, or, You should stop and let yourself breathe through this panic, or even, Nate would never hurt you. Ever. And you know it. Those truths were all lurking, somewhere, in her head. But Hannah couldn’t see them, couldn’t hear them, couldn’t find them. So they might as well have not been there at all.
“I’m… I’m going to find Ruth now,” she managed. For some reason, those magic words made Zach and Evan step aside as she hurried back into the house. Which was lucky, because they obviously hadn’t believed anything else she’d just said.
She found Ruth in a dark and quiet corner of the living room, clearly having a grand old time staring into space and muttering to herself. Hannah was almost sorry to interrupt, but desperate times called for desperate measures—and her brain melting in the flames of burning panic before sliding out of her ears like goo definitely qualified as desperate times. She grabbed her sister’s hand, ignoring the curious stares around them, and tugged her towards the door.
Ruth blinked once, cocked her head, and followed without question.
It was the silence between them, reassuring and familiar as the feel of Ruth’s hand in hers, that let Hannah maintain her composure. Until they finally reached the front door and opened it to find Rae on the doorstep, her hand raised as if to knock.
“Oh!” she said. “Hannah! I’m so sorry I’m late. I was being—hey, are you okay?”
Hannah had lost count of the times she’d been asked that question tonight. But she’d never, not once, answered like this:
“No.”
22
“Well,” Evan said pleasantly. “You have about thirty seconds before I lose my temper and punch you in the face. I recommend you use those seconds to explain.”
“Hey,” Zach frowned. “He’s my brother. I’ll punch him in the face.”
“No-one’s punching me in the face,” Nate gritted out.
Evan snorted. “That’s what you think.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. You know what? Go for it. Hit me. Maybe that’ll feel better than watching her run off like I’m a fucking leper.” Nate tunnelled his fingers through his hair and turned around, staring into the garden’s moonlit shadows. He sucked in a breath and forced his galloping thoughts to calm.
“It’s nothing,” she’d said, her voice light and even. Hannah was a terrible liar. He always knew when she was talking shit.
But when she’d said those words, it sounded as if she meant them. And all of a sudden, Nate wasn’t sure if he knew her as well as he thought.
You’re in love. People in love have bad judgement. People in love lie to themselves. People in love create fantasy worlds where everything is wonderful and the object of their affections feels the same, but you know Hannah’s been weird this week, and you’ve felt her drifting away from you, and...
“Hey,” Evan snapped. “I’m not fucking around. I don’t appreciate people taking advantage of my family.”
It didn’t make the slightest bit of sense, but the accusation in Evan’s tone made all of Nate’s worries disappear. Every last gnawing hesitation in his mind faded, replaced by the only truth that made sense.
Hannah kissed him when he couldn’t sleep. Hannah made fun of the shitty stick-and-poke tattoo on his knee. Hannah was his. They weren’t nothing. And if she’d managed to convince herself they were, that was okay. It was easy to lose sight of something when you kept it in the dark. He’d find her and hold her hand and tell her that he loved her until she remembered that they were everything.
He turned to face the two suspicious men, spreading his hands helplessly. “I love her. I am in love with Hannah. We are together. Our situation right now is not ideal, but life usually isn’t. I’m working on it. Okay?”
The silence that fell was punctuated only by the music floating out through the patio doors and an owl’s occasional hoot. For long, tense moments, Nate studied Evan’s glare and Zach’s scowl.
Then he lost his patience.
“If you have something to say, say it. If not, get the fuck out of my way. I need to find her.”
Finally, Zach shrugged. “Alright. I mean, I do technically trust you not to be a creepy, manipulative predator. I just really like Hannah.”
“So do I,” Nate ground out, turning to look at a stony-faced Evan. “Which is why I need to go and find her.”
Evan nodded, his eyes still narrowed. Then he stepped aside. Which was good, because Nate would knock the guy out if absolutely necessary, but it would probably take some work. Plus, Hannah wouldn’t like it.
“If you hurt her,” Evan said, “I will make a trophy out of your balls.”
Nate shrugged as he strode past the other men towards the house. “Pretty sure she’d do that herself.”
He heard Evan’s snort of laughter just before he stepped into the kitchen.
Hannah had never sat on a curb before, but she was sitting on a curb right now. Which was one of multiple signs that her mind had become an absolute shambles.
“There we go, honey,” Rae soothed, her hand circling Hannah’s back. “Let it out.”
Oh, yes. That was another sign of Hannah’s deteriorating mental state. She was crying. In public. Well, on a darkened street in the middle of the night, but still. Beside her, Ruth sat in awkward silence, radiating sympathetic mortification.
After a disturbingly long a
nd snotty period of time, Hannah managed to stem the flow of rogue tears—they did not have a permit or a licence, damn them—and wipe her nose. If rubbing her wrist over her damp face could qualify as wiping her nose. Good God, she was acting like Josh.
Oh, Josh. And Beth. It had started to hit her over the last few days—when she’d realised that this arrangement between she and Nate couldn’t last—that she might actually lose her job. She might not be the kids’ nanny anymore. She might never stir marmalade into their porridge, or solve their arguments with empirical evidence, or move their toys in the night to convince them that fairies were watching them sleep.
Aaaand now she was crying again. Shit.
“Oh dear,” Rae said. “Well, better out than in!”
Ruth seemed to disagree. She caught Hannah’s wet face in both hands, locked their gazes together like magnets, and said sternly, “Han. Stop that.”
The sobs shaking Hannah’s body slowed down. The jagged feeling in her gut, was, for a moment, numbed. She managed to frown and tut, “Bugger off.”
Ruth patted her on the head like a dog. “Good. Very good.”
There was a pause as Hannah waited for more tears to come. They did not. Perhaps because she was scowling so ferociously. “You’re just trying to irritate me,” she accused, swiping at her wet cheeks.
“I don’t have to try,” Ruth said, very seriously. Then she looked over Hannah’s shoulder at Rae and asked, “Who is this?”
Rae smiled slightly. “Charmed, I’m sure.”
“Rae, this is my sister, Ruth Kabbah. Ruth, this is Rae…” She trailed off.
“McRae,” Rae supplied.
Hannah stared. “Your name is… Rae… McRae?”
“God, no. Can you imagine?” Apparently, Rae didn’t feel the need to explain further, because she moved swiftly on. “Now, why don’t you tell us what’s got you so upset?”
Ah. See, this was one of the many reasons why Hannah preferred to keep all emotions to herself. People couldn’t just let you have a minor breakdown, then move on with their day. They were always demanding explanations. Hannah didn’t like explaining herself. To anyone. Ever. It was just so exhausting.
But for some reason, right now she felt an almost physical urge to spill her guts. The whole sorry story was on the tip of her tongue. She looked from Rae’s sympathetic face to Ruth’s worried little frown, and decided—well. There was no reason not to tell them, now was there?
“Nate and I…” Oh dear. Telling was harder than she’d thought.
But, to her surprise, Rae cut her off with a triumphant, “Aha! I knew it!”
“Knew what?” Ruth demanded.
“Your sister is sleeping with Nate!” Then, after a moment, she added, “You are sleeping with him, right? Please tell me you are.”
Hannah winced. “Yep. And… And Evan and Zach just caught us kissing in the garden, and they wanted to know what was happening so I tried to pretend it was… I don’t even know what! Nothing, I suppose. But Nate looked so upset. And I’ve been upsetting him all week, I know I have, but I just can’t stop thinking about my parents and I don’t even know if we’re really together and everything is shit.” She dragged in a shaky breath, then looked hesitantly over at Ruth. What would she see on her little sister’s face? Horror? Shame? Disappointment?
…A small, satisfied smile? Wait, that wasn’t right.
Except, apparently, it was. Because Ruth’s tiny smile swelled into a full-on grin before Hannah’s eyes. And then, just to erase any doubt, she said, “You’re dating Nate? That’s lovely, Han. He has very big hands.”
“That’s what I thought!” Hannah said. “The hands! Hands are so—wait, hang on. First of all, we aren’t dating. And second, aren’t you… I don’t know, disgusted by my lack of principles?”
Ruth blinked. And blinked again. And then, finally, said, “Oh. You mean because you work for him?”
“Yes. That is exactly what I mean.”
“Well. Do you actually like him, or are you doing it for other reasons?”
“I love him,” Hannah said. Oh, wait. Fuck. She clapped a hand over her mouth as if to drag the words back in. “Like him!” she corrected, voice muffled. “I meant I like him! That’s all.”
Ruth and Rae shared a rather meaningful look before murmuring nonsense like “Ah,” and, “Of course”. Apparently, they were glossing over the whole love thing, for now. But that didn’t help, because Hannah knew the truth, and it was beyond depressing. Her lower lip trembled like something out of a fucking Oliver Twist adaptation as she blurted, “But it’s doomed!”
Oh, the drama. How very embarrassing.
Rae’s hand resumed its soothing, circular passage over her back. “Why’s that, poppet?”
“I—I—I don’t know.” Hannah admitted. “It just feels like it is. He says all these lovely things, but the more he says them, the more I feel like it just can’t be real. Because nothing is official, and… and who gets lovely things, really? Who gets lovely, romantic things? In real life? No-one!”
“Evan’s pretty romantic,” Ruth said.
Hannah turned to stare at her sister in astonishment. “…Is he?”
“Yeah.” Ruth leant back against the pavement and squinted up at the moon. “He’s always doing romantic shit.”
Actually, now Hannah thought about it, that wasn’t really surprising. “Oh. I always thought you’d hate that kind of thing.”
Ruth shrugged.
Huh. “Well, to be honest, I do understand that people have… that,” Hannah admitted. “I do. I know they do. It’s just—”
“You don’t think you can,” Rae said quietly.
Hannah looked up to find the older woman staring at the moon, like Ruth. Apparently, they were all moon-starers now. She might as well join in. Gazing up at the luminous slice of pearl, Hannah sighed. “No,” she agreed. “I don’t think I can.”
“Because you’re insecure,” Rae said.
“What? No. I’m not insecure. I’m Hannah fucking Kabbah.”
“You are quite insecure,” Ruth agreed mildly.
Hannah turned to glare at her sister. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Well, you pin all your self-worth on external validation, you have to be the best at everything to consider yourself even slightly accomplished, and you apparently don’t think someone can like you enough to put up with a week of weird behaviour and an awkward moment in a garden.”
Hannah stared at her sister. Or rather, the thing that looked like her sister, but was undoubtedly an observant and talkative alien who had been lurking among them, wearing Ruth’s skin and learning their ways.
Then Alien Ruth asked, “By the way, how does Nate feel about sleeping with his nanny?”
“Not great.” Somehow, Hannah managed to answer while grappling with the astonishing suggestion that she might… actually… be… insecure?
“Well, have you considered mentioning the fact that you don’t need the job because you have £500,000 sitting in a trust fund that you refuse to use?”
“No, because I’m still refusing to use it,” Hannah snapped. “That trust fund is the physical embodiment of our father’s guilt. I’m not taking money from someone who doesn’t give a shit about me.”
“Why not?” Rae piped up. “Speaking from experience, it feels really fucking good. Spending my ex’s cash is basically a mini-orgasm every time.”
Ruth snorted out a laugh. “I like her. She has a sensible attitude.”
“I have a sensible attitude,” Hannah insisted.
“Do you? Seriously, Han, isn’t there anything you want to do with that money?”
“Can I focus on one problem at a time? I’m trying to figure out what my rampant insecurities mean for the state of my weird non-relationship.”
“Well, I think you’re about to find out,” Rae murmured.
Hannah followed Rae’s gaze until she saw a tall, broad figure moving towards them, wreathed in shadow but still unmista
kable. As he came closer, she made out the tense set of Nate’s shoulders, the hands shoved into his pockets, the gleam of moonlight on his pitch-black hair.
They watched him approach in silence, as if all three of them had frozen.
“Hey,” he said. His voice was low, rougher than usual.
The women had wandered for a street or two before they’d finally settled on this particular curb, so Nate must have been wandering around, too, searching for them. And yet, his voice held all of its usual patience, despite its hoarse edge.
But Hannah couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. Not while her mind was helpfully informing her—way too late—that the ominous feeling in her chest could have been resolved days ago. All she’d ever had to do, she realised, was ask Nate where he saw this whole thing going. Oh, her brain said sweetly. Didn’t I suggest that course of action before? No? Was I too busy throwing you into random panics and making you disbelieve every reassurance he gave? Sorry.
Wow. Hannah’s brain was a fucking traitor.
And so were her sister and her friend, because both women rose like pop-up tents and scrambled for excuses to leave Hannah and Nate alone. Well; Rae scrambled. Ruth just said, “I’m gonna go,” and went.
But not before giving Hannah one last, questioning look. A look that said, Is this okay?
Hannah nodded slowly in response. And it wasn’t a lie.
When Rae and Ruth trotted off down the street, Nate sat. Usually, when he sat beside her, he’d touch her. Throw an arm over her shoulders, or take her hand, or fiddle with her hair. Now, though, he left space between them, his hands on the tarmac instead of on her.
Maybe yesterday, or even an hour ago, that distance would’ve made her think the worst. Today, it made her think that she’d pushed him away like an absolute donkey and now she needed to make him feel better.
Hannah wasn’t the only one who deserved reassurance, after all.
But before she could speak, he beat her to the punch. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” she echoed, finally allowing herself to study his face. That full lower lip was snagged between his teeth, a frown furrowing his dark brows. His jaw was tight, his gaze shadowed—and, yeah, apologetic. She just had no idea why. “What do you have to be sorry for?”
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