No Weddings (26 page)

On a hard swallow, she spoke, her words soft, her hazel eyes staring hard at me. “I can’t lose you as a friend, Cade.”

“You won’t.”

“But what happens if—”

I placed a finger gently on her lips, silencing protests that held no merit other than fear of the unknown.

But she didn’t know me. I did. And nothing in this world would veer me off course.

“Nothing will happen. We will take this as slow as we need to, until each step of the way we feel confident enough to take another.”

She sat there for a long while, staring at me. I held her gaze, more certain about the present moment than any other that had come before it.

“Okay.” The word was soft, but echoed into my ears with the force of a thunderclap.

I smiled. “Okay.”

A corner of her mouth kicked up. “Besides, I don’t want to give up your friends yet. I’m kinda attached to them.”

“Watch it.” I narrowed my eyes. “I can only tamp down my jealousy for so long.”

She laughed. “Your sisters too.”

Rocking back on my heels, I glanced up at the graying sky, thankful for my family and friends. My gaze fell back to Hannah. “Yeah, sorry about that. Give those three time. They’ll annoy you eventually.”

Hannah leaned to the side, propping her elbow on the armrest and dropping her head onto her palm. “So I guess that means no third date.”

I gaped. “No post-musical sex?”

With her other hand, she shoved at my chest. “How do you know it wasn’t going to be during-musical sex?”

I blinked. “Woman, you continue to intrigue me. And turn me on.”

She laughed.

But when the amusement fell away from her face, I could see she was genuinely concerned. I needed to fix that.

“How about we don’t plan things out? No timelines. No pressure. We take things one date at a time. Maybe we should take the whole musical-third-date rule off the table. We’ll throw it way out into the future and cross that bridge when we come to it.”

She nodded. “I think I need that. One step at a time.”

“Good.”

“Ummm, Cade. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I need to skip tonight’s dinner. Wednesday night too. I need a break for a bit to ground myself before being with the guys again.”

My heart stuttered. “But
we’re
still on. You and me. Slow and easy. Right?”

Without hesitation, she nodded. And I was able to pull oxygen into my frozen lungs again.

“What about something new for a change? Everyone usually gets together when Jason comes back into town after a long trip, and this Friday night we’re all going out to Versailles for drinks.”

A slow smile curved her lips, and she nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Good. It’s a date that’s a non-date.” I tapped the tip of her nose with my finger, then stood, letting blood rush into my legs again before I lost all feeling.

Hannah downed the last of the Champagne as I stretched. She tossed the bottle into the ashy pit, and I pulled her up from the chair.

“That’s not gonna burn.”

“Don’t care. It goes with everything else.” She hiccupped.

I smiled, a calmness spreading through me. I finally felt like I could breathe normally for the first time since Saturday. And I wanted to leave things on a good note while giving her the space she needed.

“Cade?” Her brows twitched then furrowed.

“Yeah?”

“Would it be okay if we still…teased each other, though? You know, go back to the flirting and fun with no pressure about how fast it has to go. Just take things as they come?”

I slid both of my hands into hers, squeezing. “Of course, Maestro.” I sighed, feeling the world settling back down. “Why don’t you take those hideous pajamas off and take a shower. I’m going to my place to do the same.”

She almost pouted, like she didn’t want me to leave. It nearly killed me.

Be strong, Cade.
She’d asked for a little space, but clarified we were still good. I’d do my fucking damnedest to give her everything she needed.

All of a sudden, she broke our handhold and shoved my chest, the flicker of a smile on her face. She jogged up to the patio as I laughed at her unexpected outburst. But once she hit the steps, she whirled around, plucking the fabric of her pajama bottoms away from her thighs.

“Wait. What’s wrong with my PJs?”

I arched a brow, snorting. “Seriously? They have flying toasters on them. Toasters. Wings.”

She grinned. “They’re soft and snuggly.”

Wicked thoughts flashed through my mind of her tossed on the bed, stripped in seconds by my impatient hands. I smirked. “Burlap bag, baby…”

Before my foot hit the first step, she disappeared into her house, squealing.

Then I heard another door inside slam, and I laughed.

S
pending another night without Hannah was like going through the motions of life as a dazed zombie. And I wasn’t the only one. The living dead had infiltrated my house, everyone mourning the loss of Hannah’s vibrancy.

“When’s Hannah coming back?” Ben poked the grilled cheese with a fork, looking uncertain about the food on his plate.

“Don’t know. Not this week.” I took another bite of my sandwich. Mase actually made a killer grilled cheese. Sourdough bread with a shitload of butter slathered on either side and grilled until golden brown, a thick slice of Tillamook sharp melted in between. But it paled in comparison to anything Hannah created.

Mase leaned back in his chair, fingernails peeling back the corner of the beer label that he’d half removed. “I miss her.”

“So do I.” Ben sighed.

“Her, or the food?”

“Both,” they mumbled.

The lovesick saps in my kitchen were quite the sight, me included. We should call
Big Brother
. Reality TV would make a mint off the ongoing phenomenon.

Like a teenage girl, I’d put my phone beside me on the table, waiting for a text. I had it on vibrate, but it hadn’t moved all night. Occasionally, when too much time had passed, or I went somewhere in the house without my phone (because taking it everywhere, hoping not to miss a text would be lame), I’d hit the control button just to make sure the thing was still on. No alert showed on the screen.

“Yeah, I’m out. Gonna study.” The kitchen was more depressing than a funeral home, and I needed some air and time away from the mourners. Geez, you’d think a beloved dog had died.

While I dropped my plate into the sink, the guys dispersed as well. Mase cleared the table, and Ben left. I grabbed another beer out of the fridge and went back to my bedroom.

Debating whether or not I should make first contact, I tossed the phone onto the bed, needing to think things out. The room was stifling, heat blowing from the register, and I already felt like I couldn’t breathe. I went to the rarely used window and fumbled with the latch until the lock released. I had to shove twice before the frame unstuck with a loud
pop!
and slid wide open.

Cold air rushed in, blowing the curtains onto the back of my desk. Inhaling the crisp air, I closed my eyes, forcing myself to think about things from Hannah’s perspective.

Because all I could think about was everything I needed and wanted. Which was her. Here. Happy and laughing. In my arms. Us secure. No doubts.

I didn’t have that. What I had was uncertainty. Hannah wasn’t yet on stable ground with us. Yeah, she’d agreed to try, but I knew what spiraled through her head. I’d walked the frightening path. I was further along in this than she was, in our healing after the devastation, but I needed her to catch up. Badly.

Pacing, I rubbed my chest. The more I thought about Hannah, the more I worried about what she was or wasn’t thinking. Then I hoped she wasn’t overanalyzing the situation. Until I realized I was doing just that.

“
Fuck.
” I sat on the edge of my bed, scrubbing my hands over my face. I shoved my fingers into my hair and gripped it, dropping my head onto my knees.

Lost in a state of panic with no easy way out, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This was ridiculous. Given our pasts, I had good reason to worry, but making myself sick wouldn’t help.

And of the two of us, Hannah needed me to be stronger. She was the one who’d gone through recent trauma. She was also the one who’d gone farther into a relationship before her world crashed down around her. She’d been
in
that white dress she had burned. It hadn’t been only hope and belief that had been shattered like mine—promises and dreams had been destroyed.

So I needed to calm the fuck down. If I couldn’t toe the line, how could I ever expect her to?

Glancing at my phone once more, I picked it up. I needed some kind of sign from her that she was doing okay. For her. For us.

It was the only way I would get any sleep tonight.

I fell back onto the bed, tapping the phone on. After typing the passcode with my thumb, I went into my text app, hoping maybe I’d missed a text from her. There was nothing there. But I sighed in relief that I hadn’t missed a message with her worrying why I hadn’t replied.

Fuck, grow some balls, Cade.
I shook my head. All the time I’d spent being raised by females had clearly altered my makeup. Tomorrow, I needed to pump testosterone through my veins—lift a car or pull a tree out of the ground.

I typed a message. Then erased it.

Something less deep.

I typed again.
Backspace, backspace, backspace.
I held it down, trying to clear my thoughts.

In my mind, I battled between texting what I wanted to say and sending words I thought she wanted to hear.
Christ, I seriously need therapy.

Going balls out, I typed what I really needed to say and hit send, forcing myself not to second-guess my instincts. Then I reread the message from her perspective.

The guys missed you tonight. Me included. Me most of all.

I waited. Nothing came. Five minutes passed. Ten. I gave up looking for the text bubble to show her actively there on the other line.

Really needing to study for an upcoming exam, I put the phone on the nightstand and grabbed my laptop and research notes. With tremendous focus, I buried myself into all things Consumer Behavior, even though I would’ve rather spent the night theorizing business with Hannah like I did every Monday after dinner.

Still, even with the study distraction, I couldn’t concentrate and kept looking over at my phone. As a matter of pure discipline, I refused to check the damned text box more than once an hour. But did so religiously, every hour.

Each time I put the phone back down, I hoped she was okay. That none of the nightmares from her past were haunting her. That she thought of me too, even if she couldn’t bring herself to text me back. Even if she’d turned her phone off to give herself space.

Hours blurred together until the words on my screen did. When my eyelids drooped and my head fell forward, I snapped both back, startling to awareness.

My throat was raw, my eyes dry. I blinked several times trying to process the lights on in my room, the laptop open with the screen dark, and the loose notes spread all around me on the bed. Maybe I’d actually fallen asleep.

A buzzing noise sounded above me, then stopped. The gears in my mind turned until my brain caught up with reality and I flew upright, scattering the nearest papers onto the floor.

The screen on my phone was illuminated for a split second longer before it went dark.

I turned it on. Three texts. All from Hannah.

I took a deep breath and clicked into my text app.

The first came in at 5:37 a.m.

Hey Cade. Sorry didn’t reply last night. Fell asleep after shower.

The second a minute later.

I missed the guys too.

The third came in with the same time stamp.

Missed you most of all . . .

I let out the breath I’d been holding. I re-read the trio of texts. By the third time, I couldn’t hold back the huge grin on my face.

And she’d sent me those three naughty little dots.

A
t last count, a week had seven days, a day twenty-four hours, and each hour had sixty minutes. The stretch between when I last saw Hannah until the next time I laid eyes on that beautiful woman had been the longest week of my life. It had only been four days. But those five thousand seven hundred and sixty minutes had felt like forever.