11: SELFISH
“Hannah, hey. I want to write.”
My non-bruised knuckles graze her door again. It’s almost noon and I still haven’t seen her today. I’m not surprised—I’ve earned her silence—but I have no intention of accepting it.
“I’m tired,” she calls out.
“I’m not asking you to run a marathon with me. Just move to the couch and gush about what an amazing one-handed guitar player I am.”
I can almost hear the eye roll through the door. I peek inside to confirm.
“Hey,” I say, moving into the room.
She throws an arm over her eyes with a groan. “Why can’t you just accept boundaries?” she mutters through her arm-wall.
“Because I care about you.”
“Yeah? Well, then care enough to leave me alone for a while.”
I take my spot on the edge of the bed. My hand twitches with the need to touch her, to trace the smooth skin hiding her eyes from me. She’d probably touch me back with a fist to the face.
“I’m sorry about yesterday. You know that’s not what I wanted. I wish…” What do I wish? Too many things for this conversation.
Her arm slams down to the mattress. “I heard everything, Wes. Everything you two were doing, hoping you’d send her away, but I had to be the one to run.”
I clench my jaw and study the floor. “She was just putting on a show for you. Most of it wasn’t real.”
“No? It sounded like she was going for world volume records.”
I can’t afford a laugh and bite my lip to stop it. “Yeah, believe me. I’m good but not that good.”
“I know,” she says, totally serious, and this time I can’t help it. “Are you laughing at me?”
I chew my knuckles and shake my head, resulting in an arm smack.
“I’m sorry! I am, but…”
Is that a smile sneaking over those perfect lips? “I hope that bitch is sore today.”
And I’m done. The snort escapes and draws a grin. The need to taste her smile overwhelms me, and I expect a real slap this time when I lean in. Instead she drags me in for the kiss. Sweet—and painful.
“Please, Han,” I whisper, hovering millimeters from her lips. “I’m going to figure this out. Just come write with me for a while.”
She pushes me back, and a heavy silence follows, filling the space between us with everything I want but can’t have. She does nothing to put me out of my misery, just stares with the reminder of how much I’ve hurt her. I sigh and start for the door.
“Hang on. I need pants.”
Oxygen floods into my lungs. Thank god.
“No you don’t.”
“Perv.”
I grin. “I’ll get started.”
∞∞∞
“You should sing the chorus,” Hannah says, swallowing a mouthful from her water bottle before leaning back on the couch.
“Really? You killed it though.”
“Yeah, but switching to the male lead would be more dynamic. Then I’ll come in with a harmony on ‘peace offering.’”
I run a quick review in my head and replay the progression out loud. “Damn, you’re right.”
“Hmm… what was that?”
“I’m not saying it again.”
Her smile only widens. “You’re such a pushover. I bet that’s how you ended up with dragonfly plates.”
“A pushover? Please. I have dragonfly plates because I don’t give a shit about plates.”
Her smile fades as her eyes comb over me. “Wes, I have to tell you something.”
I rest my guitar against the side of the couch.
“It’s about what happened.”
“Okay,” I say when she pauses.
Her eyes trace the floor, the wall, the ceiling—everywhere but me. “I didn’t resign from the firm. I was fired. I had a complete meltdown in front of everyone.”
Shit.
“You’re human, Han. It happens.”
I reach for her hand but she doesn’t react to the pressure of my fingers. Is she still pissed at me?
“I could be disbarred.”
“What? No way. I’m sure—”
She stiffens, pulls her hand away. “No, you don’t get it.” Her eyes are wet now, shiny with a pain that searches for me again. “I want to be disbarred. I want to be nothing. And this thing with Miranda? It just confirms… Ah, never mind.”
My heart hammers against my ribs, its echoes roaring in my ears. “What were you going to say?”
She clamps down on her lip. Tears glaze her cheeks. This room is suddenly too loud, too fucking quiet. “Nothing. I mean…”
Dammit! “Hannah, talk to me.”
“I don’t want to exist. I don’t think I need to.”
A sob rushes out, and I pull her against me. Tears soak through my shirt, searing their way to my heart. I’m no therapist. But the thought of a world without Hannah Drake is something I can’t handle. It forms a cavern in my gut, a void, as I hold onto this beautiful soul.
“Okay, well, I need you so we’re going to have to figure this out.”
Her head moves in disagreement against my chest, and I hold tighter.
“Think of how much easier your life would be without me,” she whispers, and I have to temper a spark of anger.
“No. You know that’s a lie. That’s not you talking and even if it was, you’d still be wrong. I fucked my life up so badly right now you’re the only thing I have left. I can be damn selfish, so we’re getting help. Real help.”
The slightest of smiles pokes through when her gaze arches to mine. “My viper, huh?”
“Damn straight. Get used to it.”
“You just need me for the female lead in your songs.”
“That’s not true. I need you for the harmonies too.”
Her soft laugh fills the void with a dull ache as she settles against me again. “Wow, you really are selfish.”
I kiss her hair. “Extremely.”
A hiss escapes when she takes my bad hand and examines it.
“So do I want to know what happened?”
“Probably not.”
She traces the skin around the purple ridges.
“I guess it’s too much to assume this is from defending yourself against Miranda’s wrath after you broke up with her?”
I let out a dry laugh. “She’s vicious, but pretty sure I could take her without a scratch. Well, maybe a scratch.”
I feel the disappointment seep from her chest into mine. “You should get that checked out. How did you even play?”
“It’s my pick hand. Anyway, I don’t think anything’s broken. The swelling has gone down.”
“At least it wasn’t from punching Luke again.” Her lips touch my bruises, and I close my eyes. Guilt maybe? I don’t know, but it sucks. Everything about this moment, this woman, so wrong and so incredibly perfect.
“A headboard.”
“Huh?”
“I fought a headboard.”
She laces her fingers with mine. “We’ll figure this out. Just don’t break your hand. Not a good solution for a musician.”
And that’s the moment I decide if I break my hand over anything, it will be making sure Hannah Drake finds her way back.