The Apocalypse (25 page)

Hannah blinked. "I can really call you?"

No
, Jake thought automatically, wanting to make a face. Forcing himself to smile convincingly, he nodded. "Of course. Anytime you need something, don't hesitate to come to me."

Hannah studied him, to the extent that Jake felt very uncomfortable. There was nothing for him to fidget with in his truck, and he didn't want to squirm under Hannah's intense stare, but it was hard to remain still when she looked at him like that. For once, Jake would have probably given anything to know exactly what she was thinking about when she looked at him just then.

Since a few moments had passed, with Hannah still studying—or was that admiring now
?—
Jake, he felt he had to break the silence. So he lied. "I mean it. You've got my number, you know where I live… Anytime, Hannah."

A bright grin replaced the unfathomable expression on Hannah's face. "Awesome!" She reached for the bag of Twizzlers and opened it hurriedly. "Thanks, Jake."

Numbly, Jake nodded, wondering what he'd just gotten himself into.

Nervously, Hannah turned off the engine of her Jeep. Under normal circumstances—if there
were
normal circumstances after losing her memory—she would have been
a
nervous wreck during her first driving spree, but she had been too busy worrying about her meeting with Greg to worry about the road. Hannah figured that probably wasn't the best thing to ever tell someone though.

Rather uncertainly, she got out of her car and started toward the porch of Greg's house. Although it felt like a shady place to talk to him and Hannah would have preferred more neutral territory, going to his house did sort of make sense. Since his mother and stepfather would be at work, Greg's house was empty, and it would offer someplace quiet and private to talk. That was an important thing to Hannah.

Hannah knocked on Greg's front door and then took a couple steps back nervously. Her stomach was churning with uneasiness about the whole confrontation, and her first reaction was to call Jake and ask for some encouraging words. But just because he'd given her assurance that she could call did not mean that Hannah wanted to look weak enough to admit the need to call.

The door swung open then, and Greg appeared, smiling tenderly. "Hey, Hannah." Almost awkwardly, he gave her
a
gentle hug, his cast feeling rough against her back, and stepped back to let Hannah inside. "You look great."

Swallowing, she fidgeted with her blue sweater, wishing she had something else to occupy her hands with. "Um, thanks. You do too."

Greg made his way for the couch in the living room and gestured to Hannah warmly. His kindness was making her all the more confused. Maybe he hadn't
lied
to her after all, and she'd just jumped to conclusions. "Have
a
seat."

"I hope you weren't busy," Hannah murmured softly, sitting down on an armchair. The tone of her voice dissatisfied her, and she cleared her throat to sound more in control. "I mean, you know, I hope you didn't have something more important to do."

"Of course not, Han." Greg's forehead furrowed then, as he leaned toward Hannah's chair. "You sounded pretty urgent on the phone. What's bothering you?"

"I looked for you at Formal," Hannah blurted after a long pause. "I was there, obviously, in this really amazing dress that Tisha said I picked out awhile ago. According to her, I'd been looking forward to Winter Formal for weeks. Now I know that's not what you said, so it kinda leaves me wondering who's right. And why the other person would lie." Hannah swallowed, hoping it was inaudible, and set her jaw. "I noticed that you weren't at Formal. And, supposedly,
you
were the one of us who wanted to go so much."

Greg's gaze had gone to his lap. He remained staring at his lap silently, and Hannah counted the time it took for him to respond—somewhere around twenty seconds. "I didn't lie to you. I mean, not like you probably think I did."

Ah. So he had lied to her. For some reason, his admission took away all of the strength Hannah had been gathering. She now felt dejected and disappointed. Softly, she questioned, "What did you lie about? And why?"

Visibly uncomfortable, Greg stood and began to pace across his living room floor, his hands wringing. "The night of the accident—when we went out…we
did
fight. We were at Friendly's, and we got into an argument. I barely remember much about it because it was so trivial compared to everything else that happened that night." He stopped pacing and looked into Hannah's eyes. "It had something to do with Formal. I wanted to spring for splitting a limo with some of our friends, and you didn't like the idea. Like I told you before, it was a stupid argument, and we made it out to be bigger than it really was."

"Then what did you lie about?" Hannah asked quietly. She was ashamed of the tears that were welling in her eyes, so she looked at her hands. Honestly, Hannah was more
confused
by her tears than ashamed, and she didn't want Greg to see and question her about them.

Greg sighed noisily. "It's not so much that I lied. I just left out some things. And I know that's not fair to you, but I didn't want you to get upset, and I guess I thought your memory would be back soon anyway, so there was no point in telling you something you'd just remember. But that hasn't happened, so I—"

"No, that hasn't happened!" Hannah snapped suddenly. She felt as though she'd lost control of her mouth as things began to fly out without her meaning for them to; his reasoning just infuriated her so much that she lost it. "I'm very well aware that I can't remember anything, Greg! You don't have to tell me that. All I want to know is why you said what you did!"

He looked surprised and moved toward Hannah, probably to comfort her, but Hannah scooted back pointedly. "Hannah, I didn't mean to set you off, honestly. I'm sorry! It's just—"

"No!" Hannah stood up, her arms crossing and her voice rising dangerously. "No, I don't want to hear your apologies! And, you know, honestly, I probably don't want to hear any of this. Like you said, I can't remember anything, so why should it even matter? You didn't think it would, and maybe you're right! Maybe I should just leave and get on with things because, obviously, I'm just the invalid! What I don't know can't hurt me, and since I know so little, I might as well keep it that way! Ignorance really must be bliss, Greg, don't you think? I'll just go on my way and forget about ever remembering anything!"

"Hannah, stop it," Greg pleaded, blocking her escape route when Hannah moved started to move toward the door. "You're
not
just an invalid, and it was wrong of me to keep things from you. Stay and let me tell you everything. I promise not to leave anything out."

Finally, a tear leaked from Hannah's right eye, and she wiped it away furiously. "I don't want to," she declared hatefully, glaring at Greg intensely. "I don't care anymore. I'm happier now. I don't have any bad memories, and I have nothing to be sad about. Hell, I don't even remember dating you, so I can't be all broken-hearted over you dumping me. And you know what? That's fine! I don't need to hear anything you have to say to me. I don't care!"

Greg caught Hannah's arm. "Han, you don't mean that. You—"

"You don't know me!" Hannah erupted furiously, jerking her arm away. "You know absolutely nothing about me, Greg Hudson! And I
do
mean that! I mean that and everything else that I've said!"

"If you didn't want to know about the past, you wouldn't have come here." Greg appeared to be losing his patience, and that made Hannah glare more at him. "But you did, so let me clear everything up."

"I wanted to know before, yeah," Hannah admitted angrily, "but I don't want to know anymore. You've helped me realize that the past doesn't matter—not in my case. Only right now matters to me, and right now I want to leave!"

"Please, Hannah." Greg refused to budge from his blockade. "I feel bad now. I really shouldn't have left things out."

"You feel bad?" Hannah questioned incredulously. "
You
feel
bad
?" She scoffed and took a page from Jake's sarcasm book, snapping, "Well, honey, tell me all about it! You weren't
lied
to or manipulated to believe a load of bullcrap, but I'll still take care of you. You poor baby!" Scowling, Hannah glared at Greg as fiercely as she could. "If you really feel bad—which is probably just another lie to protect me—then it's your own fault. You started this, and I'm ending it. Don't talk to me because you can bet your last dollar that I'll never make the mistake of calling you again. You can keep whatever stories you want to tell me to yourself because they'd have no meaning for someone like me. What I need to know, I'll discover myself." She smirked then. "Just like today. I needed to know that you're a disgusting jerk, and I discovered it."

Greg stared at Hannah for a moment, but then he stepped to the side. "I'm sorry, Hannah," he stated quietly. "You deserved better. But if you don't want to know, I won't
tell
you."

Still smirking, Hannah finally made her way toward the door. "What a gentleman," she scoffed as she exited, letting the door slam sharply behind her.

Hannah stomped toward her Jeep and got in. Tears were again brimming in her eyes, but she ignored them as she started her car and backed out of Greg's driveway as quickly as she could. It wasn't until halfway down the street that she realized she was shaking. Then the tears started to fall.

She was so hurt! And she hated it; she hated feeling so vulnerable. Even if he hadn't meant for them to, Greg's words about Hannah's memory stung deeply. He thought he had to tell her that she couldn't remember anything from before the accident? That was the one thing that no one had to remind Hannah! He'd made her feel so little and stupid, and Hannah couldn't
stand
it. Even now, the echo of his words in her mind left her feeling pained, and she hated him for that.

Hannah had gone to Greg for answers, and he'd given her the best one in the most malevolent way possible: she didn't need answers to situations she couldn't remember. The truth of that was bitter, but Hannah had to admit that she felt just slightly better about things. Now that she'd taken to not caring about the past, she could just focus on being happy in the present, which is what she'd wanted to do anyway. With Greg and his mess behind her, Hannah was more than ready for the future.

"Hey! There you are."

Hannah looked up from where she was lying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling and clearing her head. A smiling Isaac was in her doorway, holding a hand behind his back. "Hey."

"Where have you been?" Isaac plopped onto Hannah's bed and seemed to study her in brief concern. She responded with a shrug, and he didn't press her, for which she was grateful. "I found something of yours. Dang, you're good."

Hannah's forehead wrinkled. "What are you talking about?"

"Let me explain everything." Isaac smiled
a
cunning smile and brandished a brown book from behind his back. He waved it, keeping it out of Hannah's reach. "So you know how Mom's a major neat freak? She already made me help her put the Christmas tree and all the decorations back in the attic above the garage." He stopped and scowled. "You got out of helping."

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, yeah." Isaac waved the book around some more, obviously trying to catch Hannah's attention. To drive him crazy, she pretended not to notice. "I had to climb up there and crawl around—and it was filthy. Mom needs to take her cleaning skills up there. I mean, seriously, it was—"

"Like your room. Keep going please."

Isaac made a face. "All right, all right. Well, while I was up there crawling around, I couldn't help but get distracted." He grinned and said proudly, "That's because I'm an ADD kid, you know." Hannah just rolled her eyes grandly. "So I started looking around and, lo and behold…I finally found it, in an old box of baby clothes. I've been looking for it for like…six years!" Again, he waved the brown book at Hannah with a triumphant grin on his face. "It's your diary."