Hannah knew what that meant. She was trying to get Hannah to mend fences with her father, whom she hadn’t spoken to since Christmas dinner. Her mom was always trying to get Hannah to forgive her father’s ways, but Hannah stubbornly refused. Her dad never called her anyway. Claire had always been the family connector, trying to keep them all together.
She told her mom she would make the call, with the intention of calling Tom and letting Tom relay the information to their dad. Affair or no affair, she was in no mood to listen to her father pontificate about her race.
After Hannah hung up the phone, she asked herself why. Why did her mother stay with her father after all he’d done? She’d wanted to ask her mom that question for years, but she could never manage it. She couldn’t bear to hear her mom rationalize her decision to stay in the marriage where her father took her for granted, where she seemed to work so hard for his love, only for him to give it to someone too young for him. It was painful enough to watch it happen over the years, but to listen to her mom deny her suffering and defend him? No way.
That week, Hannah went back to work, telling everyone about her race and reporting that the clothing and gear Athena had supplied her worked great. Everyone made a big deal about it, which embarrassed Hannah, but she humored them all.
When Friday rolled around, Hannah realized she hadn’t heard from Cain yet. He’d said he’d be busy that week, and things could get hairy in the E.R. sometimes, but usually he’d at least text her. Feeling concerned about him, she found her phone and called him.
“Hey,” came his deep voice. He sounded preoccupied.
“Hey. Are you at home?”
“On my way. I was just going to call you.”
“Long week?”
“Yeah… not too bad. But yeah.”
“Did you want to get together? Or do you need some down time?”
“No, we can do that. You mind coming over?”
“Not at all. I’ll bring something to throw on the grill.”
“Sounds good.”
Cain stood in front of the grill, manning their chicken and basket of vegetables as Hannah set the table and poured their drinks. When finished, they sat down to eat on the deck, the summer evening air warm and filled with the scent of grilled meat and summer flowers.
Cain still seemed quiet and withdrawn. He said little as they ate, and Hannah got the sense that something was off. She tried to recall their time together. Had he been this quiet before? If so, why did she notice it now? Was it different, or was she becoming one of those people who needed constant attention?
After dinner, when Hannah went to help Cain clean up the kitchen, she dropped one of his plates and broke it.
“Shit,” she muttered. “I’ll get the dustpan.”
But before she could retrieve it, Cain was two steps ahead of her and pulled out the dustpan and hand broom. Hannah reached for it, but Cain shook his head and refused to give it to her.
“I’ll do it,” she said.
“I got it,” he snapped.
Hannah stared at him. “Are you angry that I broke your plate? I’ll replace it—”
“It’s fine. It’s just a Target plate.” He bent down to collect the large pieces, and Hannah began helping him. When he went to sweep up the shards, Hannah was in the way. Before she could move, he gave her a look.
“Can you move?” he said, his tone grouchy.
Hannah’s face turned hot with anger. “No.”
He gave her one of his stares, the don’t-fuck-with-me kind she’d only seen once or twice.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” she cried.
“I’m trying to clean this up and you’re in the way.”
She shook her head. “No. That’s not it. You’ve been acting cranky all evening, and you’ve been weird ever since we got back from High Peaks. I didn’t hear a word from you all week.”
“I told you I would be busy all week.”
“So? You don’t have time to text or call me to talk for a minute?”
Cain rolled his eyes. “Come on. Are we really going to do this?”
“I’m going to ask you again, Cain. What’s wrong? Did I do something?”
“You didn’t do anything,” he said, nudging her over so he could sweep up the glass shards.
Hannah moved out of the way, going to stand at the entrance of the tiny kitchen. Cain dumped the plate’s remains in the garbage and set the broom and dustpan aside. She kept waiting for him to say more, but he didn’t. Instead, he continued cleaning the dishes.
“Cain.” Cain looked over at her. “What the hell is going on? Did something happen at work?”
“Nothing happened at work,” he said, washing the silverware. “I just… I have a lot on my mind.”
“Such as?”
He frowned at her. “Why do you need to know?”
Hannah shrugged. “I don’t, I guess. But I can tell something’s wrong.”
“You know how I get—”
“Not like this. Not after all this time.” Hannah paused. “Is it because of what I said on Sunday? Because I told you I loved you? Did I get too ‘clingy’ for you?”
Cain’s stare turned chillier. “Don’t start with that.”
“Why not?” she pressed. “The last time you acted even remotely like this was when you told me you were being deployed. Is that it? Do you have to leave again?” She hoped that wasn’t the case. He’d only been back for barely three months, for crying out loud. But she could live with that. It was better than the alternative, the one she could barely bring herself to consider.
“No. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Did it freak you out that I said that? That I said the L word?”
He shook his head, focusing on rinsing the dishes and setting them on their drying rack. “You achieved a major life goal. Of course you would say that. You said it to your friends, too.”
“But I meant it, Cain. I meant everything I said. I do love you, and having you there meant everything to me.”
“You don’t have to say that—”
“Why not?” she cried, feeling her heart harden at Cain’s stubbornness. “Why shouldn’t I say it? Because it freaks you out? Because you think I’m going to get all clingy on you now and demand things from you? Is that why you’re acting so weird?”
Cain loaded the last dish into the rack and grabbed a rag to wipe the counters with. “Stop trying to guess what I’m feeling.”
“I wouldn’t have to guess, if you’d just tell me!” She was feeling more and more desperate, like someone trying to pry open a tightly closed clamshell, knowing the knife was about to slip out of her hand.
Cain looked at her, his eyes glowering. “You know me. You know my limitations. You said you could accept what I could give you.”
Hannah shook her head. “I’m not falling for that. You went out on a limb to pace me through that race and it was one of the best experiences of my life. And I told you from my heart how I felt, and it wasn’t because I was feeling high in the moment. I knew before then. And ever since I said it, you’ve been quiet, then avoided me for five days, and tonight you’re acting like a grumpy bastard. And I’ve told you, what, three times now how I feel? And you haven’t even acknowledged it much less told me you feel the same way. Not that you have to, but it would be nice to know what the hell is wrong with you.”
“There’s nothing fucking wrong with me!” he shouted, his jaw tight as he tossed down the rag. “Stop fucking blaming this on me. You know I’m a grumpy bastard. You know I’ll say what I need to say whether people like it or not, and if I had something to say to you, I’d fucking say it. So stop telling me who I am and how I feel and what I should be doing!”
Hannah gritted her teeth. If she believed in hitting people, she would have punched him. “You’re a coward.” When Cain gave her his death stare, she stared right back. “You’re a fucking coward. You’d rather sit there and act like an asshole like you did last fall—your words—than just
tell me you love me or that you don’t love me and don’t feel the same way I do.”
Cain put his hands up and walked out of the kitchen, brushing past her.
Hannah followed him. “Why are you walking away?”
“Because I don’t need this shit! I thought things were going well—”
“They were!” she shouted back. “Until I told you I loved you. And then you started withdrawing and now you can’t even give me a fucking reason why!”
And then it occurred to her. She knew the reason why. He didn’t feel the same way, and there was no good way for him to tell her that. So he withdrew from her, ignored her, and then picked a fight with her, in the hopes that she would see the writing on the wall, that she would get the message he was trying to send her in his own crude way. When Cain crossed his arms over his chest again and looked away, she knew she’d hit the nail on the head.
She knew she should turn around and leave. But she didn’t. She stayed there and subjected herself to more punishment.
“Cain,” she said quietly. Cain turned to look at her again, his brown eyes a mixture of anger and guilt. “Do you love me?”
Cain sighed in exasperation. “Why are you doing this? I thought you understood me—”
“Cain,” she said again. “Answer me.”
“You’re being ridiculous—”
“Cain! Yes, or no… do you love me?”
Cain stared at her, his eyes raging with emotion. “No.”
Hannah blinked a couple of times. Some part of her knew he would say no, knew it in her soul. Yet, at that moment, hearing that word, Hannah felt like Cain had pulled out one of his guns and shot her right in the heart.
Suddenly, she felt dizzy, like she was about to fall over. And before she could say or do anything, she grabbed her purse and walked out the door, never closing it, never stopping until she was in her car and speeding away from Cain’s cabin.
Away from him.
For good.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hannah pulled up to her house and went inside. She hoped for some solace there, for the comforts of her mountain home and fireplace and favorite leather chair.
But the quiet emptiness of her home screamed at her. It was no quieter than it was earlier that day, a week ago, or a year ago. Yet, the place somehow felt like no one lived there or had visited in years, and would never visit again.
Jeff had been right. She really was going to die alone.
Cain had told her that Jeff was an asshole and that she would never end up alone. He’d been wrong. He was only being nice, hoping to make her feel better. Or perhaps he really believed she would find someone to spend her life with, knowing full well it would never be him.
And if she couldn’t spend her life with Cain, she couldn’t spend it with anyone. There would never be another man like Cain, who understood her and accepted her for who she was…
But didn’t love her.
With that thought, with that terrible thought, Hannah collapsed into her chair, tears pooling in her eyes until she began to sob. She cried so hard that her body shook, her face hurt, and snot dripped onto her tank top.
She cried over her anger at Cain, at his stubbornness and his obstinacy and his unwillingness to love her like she loved him. She cried over her anger at herself, for not giving him the room he needed, for grilling him and pushing him to say the thing that he never wanted to say, the thing he knew would break her heart, right after she’d handed it to him for safekeeping. She cried some more, over her own stupidity, her willingness to open herself up the way she did with Cain, for being vulnerable and dismantling the wall around her heart brick by brick, just to have him kick her as hard as he could, the same way her mother let her father kick her again and again.
That’s what men do. They pursue you, they treat you well, they give you gifts and affection and attention, and give you a safe place to open up your body to them, and then your heart… and when you finally do, they look for some other woman to conquer.
Her mom had said that once, when Hannah was only fifteen, and her mother had gotten drunk at Christmas.
And now, Hannah had become her mother. She’d become a sucker, a needy, clingy fool who loved a guy who could never love her back.
Finally, the tears died down. There were only so many tears she could manage, and between her High Peaks finish and tonight, a non-crier like herself had used up multiple years’ worth in less than a week.
And what could she do? She loved him, and he didn’t love her. It was that simple.
Finally, Hannah lay on her couch with her fleece blanket over her, and fell asleep.
She awakened just before five in the morning, after having bad dreams. Memories of the night before came rushing back, and the quiet that had always soothed her now seemed oppressive.
She got up and put on some shorts, a tech top, and her hiking boots, slipping on a long-sleeved base layer to warm her in the morning dawn. She set out on a hike, her blisters mostly healed and her body far less stiff and sore now.
High Peaks had only been a week ago? It seemed like much longer.
She worked so hard to make that High Peaks finish, and had such an amazing experience. And in less than a week, the universe took something else away. Something even more precious to her. Suddenly, she recalled something Cain told her last year, in the med tent: If you put all your eggs in one basket, the universe will find a way to take it from you.
Her hike helped clear her head. But the trail was filled with landmines—familiar sights, trail signs, and trees triggered memories of time spent with Cain during her training. Back when he cared about her, before she made the error of becoming weak and dependent on him. Tears threatened, but Hannah willed them away.
She was done with that shit. She would be a sap no more.
The following week seemed endless. Hannah went for a couple of short runs to get some of the kinks out of her body again. She tried to get her mind off Cain, but it was far more difficult than it was when he’d left for deployment.
Later that night, when her phone rang, her stomach jumped. Cain often called on Friday nights, if he wasn’t working. But it wasn’t Cain. It was Diana.
“Hey sweetie!” came Diana’s lively voice.
“Hey, D. How are you?”
“Can’t complain. Jesse is sleeping for once. I’m telling you, that kid got his father’s genes. He wants to be on the go, all the time. So, it’s a good time to talk and I hoped I would catch you now that you aren’t running day and night!”
Hannah tried to smile. “I squeaked out a couple of recovery runs this week and I felt stiff as anything. But thanks again for everything. I can’t tell you how great it was to see you guys out there. And Asher—he was a real inspiration up on Spruce Pass. You found yourself a good one, D.” Too bad she’d never do the same for herself.
“I’m telling you, Hannah,” Diana said wistfully, “not in a million years would I have guessed he’d be my guy and the best thing that ever happened to me. But maybe I’m preaching to the converted… I could tell how great you and Cain are together. I swear, I think that guy would’ve walked through fire if it meant you finished that race healthy and happy.”
Hannah bit her lip, the stupid tears nagging at her again. “He’s gone, D.”
Silence. Then, “What?”
“We broke up.”
“How is that possible?” Diana cried, her voice shooting up an octave while trying to remain hushed to avoid waking Jesse.
“You don’t want to know. Everything’s been about me lately, and I can’t take it anymore.”
“No, sweetie. You will not pull that with me. Everything was about me for a long time, what with the drama with Matthew, the wedding dress debacle, and Asher and then the baby… it’s your turn to get some love. Come on. Tell me everything before Jesse wakes up.”
Hannah sighed. She told Diana about what she said to Cain after she finished High Peaks, and about his withdrawal and their fight. She didn�
��t mention the “no.” She couldn’t do it.
“Am I crazy, D? Does that seem like normal behavior to you?”
“No, not to me. But I don’t know him like you do. The real issue is whether it was normal to you. If it was, you wouldn’t have felt weird about it or brought it up.”
“But maybe I was just being insecure because I dropped the L word…”
“Maybe. But was it normal for him to be that grouchy?”
“No.” It wasn’t. Cain wasn’t exactly Mr. Sunshine and Rainbows, but he wasn’t rude until that night. And that was weird, especially after his return from deployment, when he’d begun to seem happier and less burdened by his past.
“There you go. Trust your gut on this, Hannah. The fact that he was being so defensive shows that he knew he wasn’t acting right. Have you heard from him at all?”
“No. And I won’t.” Hannah sighed. “It’s my own fault. The signs were there all along and I just refused to see them. He said he wasn’t ready to get married or move in with someone, and I never cared about that, but what he was really saying is that he could never love me. I never cared much about love before, and suddenly I’ve turned into my mother.”
“You are not like your mother, Hannah! Unlike her, you’re willing to walk away if he isn’t what you need. And I suspect he does love you. Maybe he just has to work through some issues—”
“He doesn’t love me.”
“You don’t know that—”
“I do. He told me.”
A pause. “What do you mean, he told you?”
“I asked him that night. I made him say yes or no. He said no.”
“He actually said no?” she cried. “You asked him outright and he fucking said no?”
“Correct.”
“Jiminy Christmas, Hannah! I don’t even—” Hannah heard a voice in the background. Probably Asher. “Not now, sweetie,” Diana said to him.
“Let me talk to her,” Asher said in the background.
“Not now,” Diana whispered, her voice muffled. “She’s upset—” Hannah heard more muffled talking until Diana finally got back on the phone. “Sorry about that. The love of my life apparently has something to say to you that cannot wait. Is that okay?”
Going The Distance (Four Corners Book 3) Page 19
