My Heart Insists It’s Time to Let Go
I’m not sure what to do. Hannah’s in my arms, sobbing, and while I think I know why, it feels bigger than that. So I just hold her and wish that I had Sebastian’s face on the other side of my fists. It’s clear she doesn’t need my frustration toward Sebastian, or my frustration at learning what he’s done. I’m pissed. I knew it was more than what she was saying.
Now, I know why there’s a bat at the door.
What had Hannah said? It’s not appropriate to show up outside my apartment. To text my sister for information. To send me texts. I wonder what they were. Damn. There’s so much wrong with this situation, including the fact that Sebastian just gas-lit the fuck out of Hannah at the gym. And if that was what their relationship was for nine months, no wonder she’s always saying, “I’m sorry.”
I squeeze Hannah tighter, and she holds on, as if I might slip away.
Eventually, her sobs subside to just sniffles. “I’m a mess,” she says into my shirt. She takes a breath to say something, but I interrupt her.
“Don’t say I’m sorry, Hannah.”
She closes her mouth and giggles against my chest.
I lean back to look at her.
She lifts her chin, her eyes red and swollen, her nose running, and she offers a tentative smile, as if unsure.
I hand her a tissue. “Better?”
She laughs again and swipes her eyes with her fingers, her nose with the tissue. “No. Not really, but sort of at the same time.” She gives me another teary grin as she throws away the tissue. “I feel clearer. For the first time in a long time. Thank you for that. I think it was the rock wall.”
I grin and lean forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Ready for a shower?”
She glances at the tub. “I–” She stops and looks down at her feet.
“I’ll get it started for you. The temperature gauge is a little tricky.” It isn’t, but it seems like Hannah is working something out. I reach around her and slide the door open to turn on the water, one hand still holding onto her. When I pull the stopper so the shower starts, I straighten. “There.”
“Seth?”
I make a noise to tell her I’m listening.
“I know this might seem weird, but would you stay?”
Not the time, I remind myself. Not the time.
“Sure. You want me to sit outside the door?” I glance at the toilet on the other side of the partition wall and turn my head to look at the hallway. I have no idea where I am, and it’s probably because my brain isn’t fully functioning because it’s stuck like a scratched record, thinking about Hannah in the shower. Naked. I turn to leave, but Hannah stops me with a hand on my arm.
“Or–” Her voice catches my attention, and I look back. Her blue eyes map my face.
“Or?” I ask, terrified.
“We could shower–”
My heart stops for a moment, then bounces with a jolt of electricity. “We?”
She nods, then grabs the hem of my shirt and slides her hands up my torso, lifting my shirt over my head. “You need to get clean too.”
I duck out of it, stunned. “What about the dates?” I ask and swallow.
She draws her hoodie over her head and follows it with her shirt, so she’s standing in front of me in a hot pink bra. Boobs. I’ve had my hands on them. But damn. My mouth dries out. God.
“What about them?” she asks.
My breathing increases. “You were just crying.”
She pushes her leggings down over her hips and pulls her legs from them, her lace panties a different shade of pink from her bra, then pulls her blond hair from the ponytail and runs her hands through the curls that fall just below her shoulders.
She looks amazing, and I’m already hard. I can’t hide it. Shit. Not smooth.
“Are you hesitating because you don’t want to shower with me?”
I shake my head. I can’t formulate words.
“Are you hesitating because I was crying?”
I nod.
“Are you adverse to showering?”
I shake my head.
“With me?”
I shake my head.
She pushes the bra straps down her arms and draws her arms through the loops so all that’s left is the clasp, the lace still cupped around her breasts. “But?”
All the words I’d say to tell her why this isn’t a good idea leave my brain. They don’t exist anymore because this is the best idea that’s taken root in my mind.
“If you’re worried that I’m vulnerable. Don’t. I’m not doing this because of what happened earlier. If you’re worried you’re taking advantage of me. Don’t. I’m going to step into that shower wanting to be in there with you, Seth, for no other reason than I like you. And I trust you. And I realized today, I’ve wasted a lot of time apologizing for stuff to make everyone else comfortable instead of thinking about what I want. So I am unapologetically asking you to get into the shower with me because I want it. I’ve wasted a lot of time holding onto a wall when it was time to let go.”
I clench my teeth together with frustration. Frustration because I want her so bad. But also, frustration because I felt left out of the loop when it comes to what’s been happening with Sebastian. It’s like going back to high school and being a third party to Abby and Gabe, feeling like the last to know, and feeling like a fool.
But then, I also know that I’m not Hannah’s boyfriend. She doesn’t owe me anything.
We like one another.
We have a shit-ton of chemistry.
I want something long-term with her.
But you haven’t shared either.
The truth of that thought stops up my lungs. How can I be upset to be the last to know if I haven’t been willing to be completely honest?
I swallow. “I can’t.” I choke it out because it isn’t about wanting it. Closing my eyes, I shove a hand through my hair, and take a deep breath. “Fuck, Hannah.”
And just like I thought she might do, her arms come up, crossing her torso to hide.
I grab her wrists. “Hannah. No. Please. It isn’t you,” I say and unfold her arms. “It isn’t you.” I prove that point with a flick of my eyes to my hard dick at full salute between us.
Her eyes drop down, then jump back to me, her cheeks stained with a deepening blush.
I pull her into my arms and press my nose into the space where her neck meets her shoulder, drawing a deep breath. “There’s just stuff I need to say–” I draw in another breath, feeling how tense she is in my arms.
My heart unhooks itself from it’s space suit and floats around in my chest untethered. I’m afraid I’ve just fucked this up.
I walk backwards, keeping Hannah with me until I bump into the door, then pull her down with me to the floor, until I’m sitting. I’m still holding her hand. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“This feels bad–” she says but straddles my lap, a knee on either side of my hips, which doesn’t help my raging boner.
I let go of her hand and push my fingers into my hair, knowing I’ve committed to being truthful and terrified that I’ve done it. This is right. I know it is, but I just want her so much. The emotional part of me is afraid that she won’t want me anymore once she knows the truth.
A crease forms between her eyes.
“I want you so fucking bad, Hannah. So bad. And I don’t want to lose you–” I know she needs to know the full truth. I look up at the ceiling. “I’m just afraid–”
I chance a glance at her eyes. It’s time to stop muscling it.
Her blue gaze maps my face, her look swirling around my features, then connecting with my eyes. She reaches up and plays with my hair. “You have me.”
The tension in my body releases, like a wave folding over and losing its shape as it rushes the shore. I drop my hands to her hips and squeeze her, the lace of her panties soft against my palm, then wrap my arms around her. I commit to finally telling the truth. “It’s about the accident.”
She doesn’t say anything, just waits.
“That night, the night it happened—my dad had fallen off the wagon, again.” I take a deep breath. “We’d gotten into a fight. I’d lost all hope.” I drop my forehead against her shoulder.
Hannah lifts my head with her hands, her palms pressed against either side of my jaw, holding me in place as she tilts her head to meet my eyes. “Tell me.”
I search her eyes for a trap even though I know there isn’t one, a technique in self-preservation that seems to lurk even when I’ve worked so hard to overcome those defense mechanisms. But this is Hannah. In all my interactions with her from elementary school to the present, not once has Hannah ever hurt me. Now I understand why I held back from sharing with Jenny and Amber. I didn’t trust them with the truth. I trust Hannah.
“I did it to myself,” I say, ripping off the Band-Aid.
Her mouth falls open, and I hear her quick intake of a breath. Then she holds it.
My eyes fill with tears, burning like razor blades. It’s hard to see her through them. “I drove that truck into oncoming traffic. I thought it was the only way to escape the pain of–”
A tear spills down my cheek, followed by another.
I drop my gaze, unable to look at her. “And I’m ashamed of it,” I admit. “You see—you should know the truth.”
She lifts my head by my chin and meets my gaze. Her eyes are filled with tears. “Thank you for… for trusting me with it.”
“God, Hannah.” I breathe her name and reach up to frame her face with my hands. “Trusting you wasn’t the hard part. It’s admitting what I did. To know you’ll think… differently about me.”
“There is no shame in your struggle.”
“Other people were hurt because of what I did.”
She nods. “That is your regret?”
I nod. “I don’t remember thinking about that. I don’t remember anything but the pain, the hopelessness–”
She leans in, wraps her arms around my shoulders, and presses her lips into the nook between my neck and shoulder. “I’m so sorry, and so, so fucking grateful.” She sits back up. “So grateful you’re here now.”
I take a deep breath, feeling somehow lighter, freer, and I get what she’s saying, so grateful. I’m sitting here with Hannah in my arms, and she’s looking at me like I’m still me. I straighten, leaning to press a quick kiss to her lips.
The hot shower, still running, humidifies the room, but I don’t want to let her go. I run my hands up her back until I’m cupping the back of her head. She leans into my touch, giving me control, and her lace-covered boobs graze my bare chest. Air moves quicker through my body, suddenly floating with the freedom, with the knowledge that this woman accepts me and my truth. My breath locks up in my lungs, and all the blood rushes from my brain to my groin. I just need her. I need her. I need her. I–
“Hannah,” I say. “I want you.”
“Yes. Yes,” she chants, her hands caressing my skin.
I run my thumb against the edge of her bra, over the swell of her breast, and push the edge to reveal the treasure underneath. “I don’t want to wait for more dates.”
She draws in a quick breath. “Me either.”
“You are so beautiful,” I say, running a thumb over that sensitive place, then lean forward to kiss her, to claim her mouth as I press my palms against her soft flesh.
She moans into my mouth and sinks against my erection pressed between her legs. “Oh,” she whimpers. “Seth.” She rocks her hips. “I want you. I’ve wanted you–”
The sensation works its way up through me, and out as a groan. I trail my mouth from her lips, down her neck, until I have a nipple in my mouth. She’s holding the back of my head, gasping with sweet sounds that push me forward, that make me take her in my arms and move us so she’s on her back, and I’m seated between her legs.
The kiss rocks me, the feel of her around me, like the warmth of a perfect day. I love her. I love her. I understand this now. That’s why this means so fucking much. Shocked with the understanding, I pull away from the kiss and look at her. Her lips are swollen with my kiss. Her blue eyes flutter open, dark with her own pleasure and desire. My heart dips with new awareness, tightening and thudding heavily in my chest. It wasn’t just about trust, was it. It was about love.
I could let go.
But the blue of the tub is in the corner of my eyes, the weird pattern of the linoleum behind beautiful Hannah. “I want this with you, Hannah. But not here on the bathroom floor.”
“Take me to your room.”
We disengage and our movement becomes a collection of hands and mouths, teeth, tongues, mixed with needy sounds. After shutting off the water, I kiss her, walk her through the hallway still kissing, and kick the door to my room shut behind us. She pulls me onto the bed with her.
“You’re sure about this Hannah?” I ask. “I’m clean. I’ve been tested.”
“Me too. After Sebastian. And yes, I’ve never been surer about something in my entire life,” she breathes, her hands on the waistband of my boxer briefs. “You?”
“Oh, fuck, yes, Hannah.”
She pushes the elastic over my hips, and I shimmy out of them while simultaneously drawing Hannah’s panties down her legs. She helps me until all we are is heaving bodies, excited and full of need. I stop, staring at her, taking in this beautiful woman, feeling like perhaps I’ve been given a gift I don’t deserve. “You’re so amazing.”
She comes up onto her elbows and looks at me on my knees in front of her. Her skin is warm with a blush. “I imagined this, you know,” she admits. “Fantasized about us.”
I climb up her body, my weight on my arms. “I did too,” I admit. “Jerked it quite a bit imagining being with you, Hannah Fleming.” I offer her a grin.
Her eyes bounce from my lips to my eyes. “What if–”
“Don’t say it.”
“–it doesn’t…” She shivers under me.
“Do you want to stop?” I ask. “It’s okay if you do.”
She shakes her head. “No. I want this. I’m just sort of afraid–”
“Of what?” I hold my breath, waiting for her answer.