Why did I do that? Because I didn’t want to admit that maybe, just maybe she had been right about him. Dear friends… I rolled my eyes thinking about him saying that, then anger flared in my chest. Not at him, but at myself, because as much as I wanted to be mad at him, I couldn’t. He’d never said we were anything. In fact, that night by the airport he called me a friend. Noah was the town heartthrob. He’d had every girl, then he’d had me. He didn’t even know I was a virgin, I mean, my God, I was twenty. I’d dated Max Summers. I was best friends with Meg McKinney, surely he assumed that entire birds of a feather crap… I picked up my phone, staring at the text he’d sent that morning. Sighing, I texted him:
I’ll call you when I get off.
“So,” Rachel said, flicking her strawberry blonde hair over one shoulder as she leaned against the counter. “I heard you and Noah Greyson…” Smiling, she wiggled a brow.
“Oh, um”—heat washed over my face, and I set my phone on the counter—“we’re friends.” I wanted to shrink into the wall.
She rolled a shoulder. “Yeah…” The way she drew at the yeah made me cringe. “I used to be friends with him.” She rolled her eyes. “Charming, isn’t he?”
I didn’t say a word, and I’m sure my face gave everything I wanted to keep secret away. “He’s nice.”
She laughed. “Nice? Yeah, he’s too nice. He has a way of making you feel like you are the only thing in the world that exists. God, the lines he could spin, and even when I knew it was all a fucking lie, I believed it. He’s that good.” She pushed up and grabbed something from the printer. “Look, it’s none of my business, babe, and my experience with him, well,” she shrugged, “it was my experience, but just tread carefully. He’s fucked up and I don’t think he realizes what he does to girls.” She patted my back as she passed by and walked into the one occupied room.
I tried to ignore her words. I closed my eyes. I drummed my fingers on the counter. I straightened the workstation. Dear friends. He called me a dear friend after he promised we’d get through everything together. God, how stupid could I have been? I snatched my phone up on my way to the restroom, dialing his number and pressing the phone to my ear when I closed the bathroom door.
“The Verizon Wireless number you were trying to reach has calling restrictions which has prevented the completion of your call.” The line went dead.
I pulled the phone away and stared at the screen with Noah’s name still on display. “What?” I whispered, my pulse slowly picking up pace. I tried the number again. “The Verizon Wireless number you were trying to reach has calling restrictions which has—”
When I hung up, I slipped the phone into the front pocket of my scrubs and braced my palms against the porcelain sink. I stared at my reflection, telling myself there was a logical explanation. When I closed my eyes, all I could see was the way his chin dropped to his chest when he was on top of me. The way his lips closed when he said, “Fuck… Hannah.”
My chest tensed.
Meg warned me.
My brother warned me.
My father.
The damn lady at the beauty shop...
But my mother told me no regrets, and yet, I already regretted it. Not even twenty-four hours later while I was still sore and every step I took reminded me he’d been there.
How the hell are you supposed to know what you will regret? Not taking a chance, sure? But that’s a sugar-laced lie, isn’t it? You can always regret not doing something, but that regret must be different from actually going through with something and realizing you were inevitably wrong in doing so?
I yanked open the door to the bathroom and went back to the nurses’ station, filling out the paperwork I had left on Mr. Smith. Laceration to the left cheek. Two stitches.
My phone dinged with a text.
Meg: I’m going to kill the little shit! Where the fuck is he?!!!!
Attached was a screenshot of a selfie from Daisy Benson’s Facebook page. Behind her was a wooden door with the number 33 on it. She was on Noah’s porch. The caption said: Big things ahead for my dear friend, Noah Greyson. Can’t wait to tell the world, babe. <3 <3 I swallowed around the lump in my throat when I looked at the date. Yesterday, an hour before he came to get me.
Meg: Call me!
Dear friend. I laughed not to cry, then I took a breath. Regrets?
Jesus, I may have regretted not sleeping with him until I was ninety. I may have regretted living out some stupid fantasy. Fine. But the way it feels to know I was foolish enough to love him, that’s a regret that cuts in a way I don’t think I’ll ever get over.
I allowed him to become everything to me when I was nothing to him.
The alarm on my watch buzzed and I shut it off. I fought back the wave of anger, then the disgust as I stormed toward the time clock. I swiped my badge, choking on my emotions.
“You out?” Rachel said.
All I did was nod even though I wanted to shout at her, asking why the hell she was talking to me now. After twelve years of school, two months of work. Why now? Because she knew, that’s why. She felt sorry for me because I was that cliché idiot from love stories: the good girl who fell for the bad boy. Well, I didn’t want to be her!
______
Jeopardy went off and I glanced over at Momma asleep on her bed. Even in her sleep, you could see pain wrinkling her face. I kissed her cheek, grabbed the remote and turned the TV off, then went to my room.
I laid in the bed, like always, staring up at the ceiling. My mind wouldn’t stop long enough to let me rest. Back and forth it went between Momma and Noah. Finally, I picked up my phone from the nightstand and went to Facebook Messenger, staring at his latest message. Lost my phone which means I lost all my contacts. Long story, I’m out of town. I’ll be back on Thursday, I didn’t want you to think I just up and left. I don’t know how to handle this shit, but I miss you. You mean a lot to me, Hannah.
I stared at that message for a good ten minutes before I clicked on his profile picture. It’s strange how you can hear someone’s voice in your head, how memories can flood your mind like some unwanted ghost. I rested my head against my headboard before dropping the phone to the bed.
I knew Noah—didn’t I?
The Noah I knew didn’t seem like he could be the guy Meg warned me about, the guy the ladies at Judy’s gossiped about, the guy that made empty promises to Rachel Thomas. But, maybe I didn’t really know him after all.
34
Hannah
I had worked three twelves back to back. Momma took one look at my nails last night and told me to go to Judy’s and get a manicure. She said no one wanted a nurse with unkempt nails. Going to Judy’s was the last thing I wanted to do, but to make Momma happy, I called Meg and there I stood staring at the wall of nail polish.
“Be My Valentine,” Meg said, picking the bottle up. I glanced down at the chipped Diva Mermaid on my nails. All I could see was my fingers splayed out over Noah’s bare chest while he sank between my thighs. Swallowing, I snatched the polish from Meg’s hand and sat down in the waiting area. Be My Valentine it was.
“Testy,” she said, grabbing a bottle of purple polish before she took a seat next to me. “You ready to talk about it yet?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Daisy Benson posted a picture outside his house. She knew he was going somewhere”—she waved her hand around—“wherever he went. You still don’t know. It’s been four days, Hannah. And, I don’t care what you say, I know you slept with him.”
I glared at her.
“Tell me you didn’t.”
I exhaled and grabbed one of the magazines from the table. She huffed and settled back in the seat. A few minutes passed by before she finally sighed. “How’s your mom?”
“She’s dying, Meg.”
I felt her bristle next to me. “I’m gonna kill him,” she mumbled. “Fucking around with you when you have all this shit on your shoulders.”
Ignoring her, I flipped
open to the article: How to Know if He’s a Player.
Sad truth: There are crappy people out there and some people will waste your time to get what they want: sex, affection, validation. I’d like to say these guys are oblivious to what they are doing, but, most of the time, they are completely aware. They know just what to say, just what to do to make you fall hard.
My eyes skimmed the column, hitting the key points.
Warning signs you may be dealing with a player:
He texts you late.
You don’t go on public dates.
He compliments you. A lot.
He doesn’t introduce you to his friends.
He’s vague about where he is.
He has a bad reputation.
I rolled my eyes at that one and shut the magazine, tossing it onto the table before sinking down in the chair. We didn’t go on public dates, he complimented me a lot, I had no idea who his friends were aside from Trevor, and I didn’t even know where he was, but Daisy did…
“I’ll be right with you girls,” Judy called from the counter. “Let me just finish up with Patty.”
“Okay,” Meg said.
The door swung open, the bell jingled, and Daisy strutted in. I looked away just as she glanced at me.
“Hey, Daisy,” Judy said.
“Hey.” She plopped down in the chair across from Meg. I grabbed the magazine again, flipping through the pages just to occupy my hands.
“So, Daisy,” Meridith called from across the salon. “I hear there’s some big news about your friend, Noah?”
I peeked over the top of the magazine, watching Meridith tease Martha’s hair.
“Oh, yes,” Daisy said, I could hear the smile in her voice.
“That boy’s nasty,” Martha said. “He comes in the Bait and Tackle, buying up all the condoms.”
“We know, Martha,” Meridith patted her shoulder. “Well, you made a vague post about it. I checked his profile and nothing. Come on and spill already, would you?”
“Okay, so, get this. Brice Taylor saw one of my videos of Noah singing and contacted him. He’s in Nashville recording with him.”
Meridith stopped teasing Martha’s poufy hair. Her eyes went wide. “Are you kidding me?”
“What… the… fuck…” Meg muttered then glanced at me.
Why did she know? Why wouldn’t he have told me something like that?
“It’s so exciting,” Daisy swooned. “I’m so proud of him, he absolutely deserves it.”
“He does have a great voice.”
I looked at Daisy, she was all sunshine and smiles. “And to think, I’ve had Noah Greyson sing to me before. It’s so amazing.”
The rest of the conversation faded into the background. For whatever reason, the thought of him singing to Daisy the way he sang to me made me nauseous. It was a slap in the face to realize something you treasured was absolutely worthless.
My stomach churned. I placed the nail polish on the table, pushed up from the chair, and walked right out of the salon. I was halfway across the parking lot when the bell dinged, and Meg called out for me. “Hey!” I kept walking. “What are you doing?” She grabbed my arm and I spun around.
“I just want to go home.”
“Hannah, you can’t let Daisy get to you, she’s…she’s…”
“She’s just like me, some dumb girl who thinks she meant something to a guy.” I rolled a shoulder. “I just, I just… I’m tired, Meg. I’m angry and yes, I’m hurt, but I’m really just tired.” I sighed.
She hugged me, and I let her, but I just stood there staring across the street at the people milling in and out of the drugstore. “Give it time,” she said.
“It’s not that big of a deal,” I lied. “Just annoying really.”
She cocked a brow at me. “He deflowered you.”
“Okay, so I slept with him. Big deal. I would have eventually slept with somebody, right? May as well have been him.” I started toward the car. “He didn’t even know.” The locks clicked, and I opened the door.
“What? Are you kidding me? You didn’t tell him!” Meg stood a few feet behind the car with her mouth gaping open.
“No.”
“Jesus, Hannah. That’s kinda something you tell a guy, you know?”
“Like it would have mattered.”
She walked around to the passenger side and got in the car. I cranked the engine and backed out of the spot. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
“Okay.”
______
Momma was sitting in the living room with Daddy and Bo, watching some cooking show when I came in. “Let me see your nails,” she said.
“I didn’t get them done.”
“What? Why not?”
“Judy’s was too crowded.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“I’m gonna go hop in the shower,” I said, heading straight up the stairs. When I reached the top, the memory of Noah carrying me up to my room flashed through my mind. I stopped, gripping the railing and taking a breath before I pushed the thought of him away. I had more important things to worry about. I couldn’t waste my energy on someone who wouldn’t waste theirs on me. I grabbed clothes from my room, and when I stepped back into the hallway, Momma was coming up the steps. She glanced through the banister at me and shook her head.
“Come on, sweet girl,” she said when she reached the top of the stairs. I followed her into her room and she closed the door. “Now, what’s going on?”
I shook my head. “I think I screwed up.”
“Oh, honey, we all screw up.” She laughed before taking my hand in hers. “Hannah, look at me.” She skimmed her hand over my chin. “I’m no fool. I know my time’s almost up, but you know what? The best thing about my life has been being a mother. So, please, humor me a little longer and let me mother you.” She smiled. “Don’t shut me out.”
I swallowed, my eyes watering.
“And don’t feel guilty for having a life outside of this… this sadness, okay? I know you, Hannah Marie. Don’t you feel guilty.”
I stared at the floor still fighting those tears.
She guided me over to the bed and took a seat, patting the spot next to her. “Did that boy hurt you?”
“I just misunderstood him, it doesn’t matter though. It’s nothing.”
She nodded slowly. “The thing you need to remember throughout life, Hannah, the prettiest lies can fall like honey from someone’s lips. Lying with your mouth takes little effort, lying with your heart… that takes a lot. You can say you hate someone, but it means nothing if your heart yearns for them.”
But he never lied. He told me I meant something to him, and I’m sure I did. I was the liar—I lied to myself. “He’s not the kind of guy I need.”
“Maybe not…”
She swept my hair behind my ear before pulling my head onto her shoulder. “You know, when you were a baby, this was the best feeling.” She patted my shoulders. “You fit right here on me, right on my chest and you would nuzzle up. It was the best feeling in the world, and no matter how old you get, it always will be.”
I closed my eyes, trying to burn this moment into my mind, filing it in that place where it would be safe forever, so when I missed her I could remember what it felt like to have her.
“Why make someone feel like you mean more to them than you do?” I asked.
“You don’t know what he feels, Hannah. You can’t. He’s just young. You’re young. Sometimes we meet the right person at the wrong time, but that doesn’t mean that what you felt wasn’t real.”
I laid in bed all night, thinking. When my brain hurt, I grabbed my phone and went to his Facebook page. The last picture he’d posted was from a month ago. A selfie of him on stage at Tipsy’s. I skimmed the comments, most of them from girls commenting on how attractive he was, how pretty his smile was. I rolled my eyes. One girl said she missed him, he commented he missed her too. Jealousy ate me up and I hated it. When did I become that girl? The one who
doubted herself? The one stalking someone’s page and getting jealous over other girls? When did I become the girl who gave herself away to a guy who made Max Summers look like a saint?
When I fell in love with him, that’s when.
As much as I hated it, I loved him. I did. His smile, his voice—until I didn’t. As good as he could make me feel, he also could make me feel terrible. I was driving myself crazy second guessing, trying to make sense of every comment, every smile. Every post from a random girl on his page. The right person at the wrong time or the wrong person at the right time?
Noah came along at the right time.
When I needed a distraction.
When I needed to feel alive because I was surrounded by death.
But he was the wrong person for me, and as much as it broke my heart to admit it, I knew I couldn’t do that to myself. Loving a man like Noah Greyson was like putting a gun to your head while walking toward the edge of a cliff, one way or another, you were going to kill yourself. It was just a question of which way you would go.
I opened my Messenger and stared at the lone message from him. One message over four days. Just enough to say he tried, but not near enough to say he fought for me. You fight for what you love.
Maybe he did care about me, but if I really mattered that much, he’d fight, and if he was too much of a coward to fight, I didn’t need him anyway.
35
Noah
The three days I was supposed to be in Nashville turned into seven. Brice wasn’t full of shit after all. The guys had left the studio for a smoke break and I sat in the recording room by myself. I’d managed to get a new phone when I got to Nashville, but I was one of those assholes who never backed anything up to the cloud, which meant I didn’t have Hannah’s number.
Whiskey Lullaby Page 19
