Chapter Twenty-Nine

Hannah

 

What…where…ow…no lights…sit up…need to pee. Shuffle to bathroom. Ibuprofen on counter. Swallow pills. Why do I smell coffee?

“Good morning” came from the kitchen. Mike? “I came to return your key. And make breakfast.” Toast, hash browns, and scrambled eggs.

“You made hash browns?” I sat at the table. Thank God all the curtains were closed.

“Take this.” He set a grainy brown pill in front of me. “B vitamin. It’ll help.”

Orange juice and water on the table. I swallowed it with the water. My tummy felt fine but I had a killer headache.

“The hash browns were frozen and I followed instructions,” he said, bringing a plate. “You’ll feel better after you eat and hydrate.”

I started with the buttered toast. Good bread. He sat across from me with his own full plate. “Done this before?”

“When we were young and single and dumb, we overindulged. It was the tour medic’s job to fix hangovers. You learn what’s myth and what works.”

“Ah.” The hash browns were crispy on the outside and the eggs had the right amount of salt. “You’re not bad at this, Jorgensen.”

“Thanks.”

Cleaned my plate and drank the juice and coffee. “This feels like an apology.”

“No.” A sheepish smile. “Maybe a little. Yesterday wasn’t—”

“Yeah. Not your fault, though. You didn’t have to make me breakfast in bed.”

“You’re not in bed.”

Caressing his leg with my foot, I said, “Not yet.” I went to him. “I haven’t gotten my hello kiss, yet.” And made it one hell of a hello. Straddling his lap, I slid my hand beneath his gym shorts. “Hi.”

A gasp. “Hannah—”

“Thank you for breakfast.” His cock turned to steel in my hand and I slid down his body to take it in my mouth.

“Oh God.” His head fell over the back of the chair.

I loved this, making him moan, feeling him slide into my throat, the taste of him…even his scent gave me a heady rush. Swallowing for previous boyfriends was a courtesy or chore, but I didn’t mind it now. It was so tempting to slide my boyshorts off and rub my clit on his velvet skin.

Settled for sitting on his lap again, his cock already hardening in my hand.

“Fuck.”

“Exactly, babe.

“Hannah—”

“Tell me you don’t want this.” A sultry whisper I didn’t know I was capable of.

He removed my hand. “We’re not ready.” I switched to using my left.

And stared at him.

“I’m not ready.”

“Why not? I think we’d be really good at it.” Nibbling on his neck. “You like me, you find me attractive, it’s been a couple months…”

“I can’t think when you’re in lust bunny mode.”

“Good.”

He picked me up—yay—and set me on the chair—boo. Tucked his penis in his shorts and settled his shirt in front of the tent. He glanced at my chest and his eyes quickly flicked away. “I’m saying no.”

“Under what criteria?”

“What?” He started cleaning the pan he’d used. Good grief.

I yanked it out of his hand and set it back on the stove. “What are you so afraid of?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you backing away from me?” He’d hit the back door in a few feet. Nowhere to go in a galley kitchen. “Did you have some kind of trauma as a kid?”

“No! Of course not. I told you already.”

“You like to go slow. We have, especially by most people our age, yet every time we have a moment, you retreat. So what’s the criteria?”

His back hit the locked door. “I don’t have a checklist. That’s insane.”

“I just want to understand, Mike! What are you so afraid of?”

“That I’m in love with you! Okay? Happy?”

“Oh.” He loved me? Already? “You love me?”

He pushed past. “This isn’t how I’d planned this morning. I-I think I should go.” Never seen a guy get to a door so fast.

“Mike, don’t—”

“Why, Hannah? You don’t love me back. Not yet, anyway. It’s fine.”

Then he was gone.

 

****

 

Mike didn’t answer his phone, texts, or e-mail.

Now it was Monday and I’d stared at spreadsheets that didn’t make sense for hours. At lunch, I told my manager I didn’t feel well and left. Should’ve gone home, but somehow my car ended up under Mike’s building.

His car was in its stall, so I took the elevator up and knocked on his door. Then pounded, making a god-awful amount of noise until he opened it.

“You don’t get to—” He kissed me. I shoved him off. “No. You don’t—are you drunk?”

“Maybe.”

The usually-spotless apartment was a mess, beer bottles and takeout boxes littered about.

“How dare you.” I threw open the door and stormed out.

Footsteps behind me. “Hannah—”

“Don’t touch me! You don’t get to drop a bomb on me like that and disappear for days. Do you know what day it is? Monday. God… All that ‘I’m the long-haul guy, the commitment guy’…bullshit. I might be the kid here, but you’re more scared and unprepared for a relationship than I am.”

He just stood there, head hanging.

“You can’t argue that, can you?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I should be at work right now but I was too worried about your stupid ass to get anything done. I couldn’t stop imagining something awful had happened to you because of course that had to be the only reason you weren’t answering my messages. Joke’s on me.” I turned for the elevator.

“Hannah—”

I smacked his hand away. “No. Let me save you all this existential angst or whatever, Mike—you don’t love me. A guy that loved me wouldn’t scare me like you just did. Whatever you’re afraid of, it’s not me.”

I left a piece of my heart behind that day.

Crazy, isn’t it? I didn’t know I loved him until I was scared I’d never see him again. Didn’t know I was ready to fall that deep. I’d cared for my two previous boyfriends, but when those relationships concluded, it was easy to part. No crying myself to sleep or ice cream binges.

This hurt.

All the time I worried I couldn’t be what he wanted or fit into his world or wasn’t ready to commit, he wasn’t ready for me. Wasn’t worthy.

I felt tricked.

I wanted to be mad.

But maybe he didn’t know. He wasn’t his brother. He wouldn’t mislead me on purpose.

I could really use a friend. The Marcy thing was over, not that I ever told her about Mike. Calling Jen was too weird and icky now. She was part of his life, not mine.

How long did it suck after your heart was broken?