Page 89 of Love Me

“You’re grumpier than usual. Starting to confuse you with Sawyer,” Graham quips from where he’s currently walkingnext to me to check on our crew working with the mash for the straight bourbon whiskey.

“I’m not grumpy, just agitated.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

Changing the topic, not wanting to get into my issues at the moment, I turn the conversation onto him. “How’s it going with Hailey?” Hannah’s younger sister started working full-time for Graham as a live-in nanny.

“She’s incredible. Mila’s mood has changed so much since Hailey moved in. As much as I was trying to convince myself that only having a dad around was enough, she’s getting to that age where she clearly needs a woman’s touch. Hailey’s been a huge help. I know you’ve got your issues with Jay and Cynthia, and I would agree with you about Cynthia, but Jay is a good man, and he did good by those girls. Hailey is well-rounded and a good role model for Mila.”

“They’re good girls. I’m glad you’ve finally accepted some help. You needed it, old man.”

“Don’t I know it. It worked out. And Jay feels good knowing that his baby girl is being taken care of and making their move to California easier on him. Everyone’s happy.”

I nod, feeling like an ass for not communicating much today. We walk into the building to check on the progress and ensure the mash will be ready for fermenting when my phone goes off with a chime that’s only for one person, alerting me to a text from Hannah.

Beauty: We need to talk

My heart drops into my stomach, bile churning around and making me feel nauseous. No one on planet Earth wants to hear those four little words. When have they ever not caused immediate alarm in the person receiving them?

Me: Are you and Charlie okay?

Beauty: Yeah, can you meet me at the apartment? Charlie’s with Hailey and Mila.

Me: Of course I will, anything for you. Be there in 10

“Hey, Graham, something’s up with Han, do you have this covered? I need to take off.”

“Yeah, man, you got it. Let me know if you need anything.”

Pocketing my phone, I jog out of the mash house and get into my truck, ready to do whatever it takes to show her how much I love her. I just hope that she loves me in return, or she’s in for one hell of a fight, because I’m not letting them go.

After a quick drive into town, taking those familiar roads faster than I should, I park behind Bean Haven and jog up the stairs, letting myself into the apartment just like I always have.

I find Hannah standing in the living room, pacing, waiting for me. Everything I was going to say goes out the fucking window as I see her red-rimmed, puffy eyes. Fuck, her tears bring me to my goddamn knees.

Walking right up to her, I clasp her face in my palms, holding her head as I bend my knees to look her over in concern.

“You were crying?”

She nods slightly, a tear slipping free and trailing down her face.

“Baby, please don’t cry. It kills me when you’re hurting.”

I pull her into my chest, wrapping one hand tight around her waist, the other holding her head to me. She grips me back, her arms snaking around my thick waist, fisting the loose fabricof my T-shirt. I give her a few moments before pulling back slightly, my hands resuming their position framing her face, my thumbs gently sweeping away the lingering tears.

“You are so fucking beautiful. Tell me you feel this, Hannah.”

“Bear . . .” she whispers as she pulls away from me, taking several large steps backward. There might as well be a fucking cavern between us with the way my heart is aching right now. Distance, arguing, these things have never existed between us.

“No. No, don’t do that. Don’t put me back in that zone. I want more than that. I’ve always wanted more than that. We have more than that, Hannah. You have to feel it, baby.”

Her eyes glass over as tears pool, threatening to spill over the edge again. A crack forms in the center of my heart, a knife plunging in and dragging. She doesn’t feel the same. Fuck. My hands begin to shake as my knees threaten to give out on me.

“Everything that my grandmother said is true, Bean Haven is mine. My parents never had the rights to Bean Haven, they—mostly my mother—assumed that my dad would inherit it and they’d be able to sell it if I didn’t conform. But it was never going to be theirs. It was always mine. My grandmother signed it over to me. She didn’t want to wait until she passed away and chance leaving me to be devoured by the sharks.”

“How long have you known?”

“A little bit. I didn’t want to chance you leaving me now that we didn’t have a reason to be married.”

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