Page 29 of Billionaire Unforgettable: Tanner

How had I ever thought that she’d simply sailed out of my life to hook up with another guy?

Maybe that had been the only explanation I’d been able to produce at the time, but it had been an idiotic theory.

When Hannah had left, it was like I’d shoved all of that pain away about the breakup.

Refused to talk about it.

Refused to acknowledge that she wasn’t ever coming back.

It was an odd defensive mechanism, but I’d compartmentalized everything that had happened in a place that I didn’t acknowledge.

Yeah, part of me had been angry and hurt in the beginning, but I’d locked that shit away in a hurry.

I’d put the whole situation on hold because I hadn’t truly been able to deal with the fact that she was really gone.

Now that I’d seen her again, I felt like the breakup had just happened a short time ago because I’d finally acknowledged exactly what had happened.

I felt everything I should have felt years ago because I knew the truth now.

Regret.

Remorse.

Heartache.

Disgust with myself because of the way I’d treated the most important person in my life.

I felt all of the shit that Hannah had probably dealt with years ago.

Maybeshe’dmoved on, but I definitely hadn’t.

She’d loved and trusted me back then, and I’d tossed those things away like they weren’t important or a priority for me.

Now, I wanted another chance to at least regain her trust.

I was determined to fix at least a little of the damage I’d done.

The trail ride today had been fun, one of the best times I’d had in recent history.

But I was able to sense that Hannah was wary, trying to figure out exactly what my motives were and whether or not I was going to suddenly morph into the man she’d known before she left me.

That wasn’t going to happen, but I didn’t blame her for thinking that was a possibility.

After a few hours together, she seemed a little more at ease with me.

“Nothing to do for dinner,” I finally assured her. “Everything else is ready.”

“You went to the deli?” she questioned, amused.

I grinned at her. “How did you know?”

“Because that’s what you always do when you’re forced to figure out the food situation. On your nights to cook, we ate a lot of deli food.”

“I’m not a good cook,” I grumbled. “But I can use a microwave.”

“Or go to your mom’s place for dinner?” she teased.

“I’m not the only Remington who does that occasionally,” I said defensively. “Okay, so Kaleb isn’t really guilty of thatanymore, but Devon frequents my mother’s kitchen more than I do. I’ve learned to get creative with the microwave, the grill, and heating things up.”

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