Page 83 of Promise Me Nothing
Within thirty seconds, I hear feet thundering around upstairs and then clomping aggressively down towards us. When Ivy rounds the top section of stairs and sees Hannah standing next to me, she has a fat fucking meltdown of happiness.
“Oh my gosh!” she cries out, her words having that same muted quality that most deaf people have, since she can’t hear what she’s saying.
I’ve seen a few people stare at her because of the way she sounds when she speaks. They gawk, like she’s from the circus. And it makes me want to throw them up against a wall, grab their neck and squeeze.
But of course, I don’t do that. Often. Might have once or twice to a few dicks when we were younger. But I’ve tried to be a bit more mature about things now that I’m nearing twenty-five.
Ivy sprints towards Hannah, the two embracing in a sweet hug once she reaches the bottom of the stairs.
What are you doing here?
Your brother was stalking me, so I told him he had to let me hang out with you if he didn’t want me to call the cops.
Ivy turns and glares at me, like I did something wrong. She doesn’t get that Hannah’s joking,orthat technically Hannah isn’t actually joking.
I hold my hands up. “What?” I say, knowing she can read my lips with how intensely she’s looking at me.
Apologize to Hannah.
I laugh as I watch Ivy continue to light me on fire with her eyes, her arms crossed. Then I give Hannah a smirk and a wink.Sorry, Hannah.Looking to Ivy, I narrow my eyes.Better?
Ivy huffs, takes Hannah by the hand, and drags her away.
I watch as the two of them walk past the living room and out to the backyard, out to sit by the pool, ignoring the living room and the over-sized couches that face a TV that almost never gets used and takes up half of a wall.
I know for a fact that my mom spent over fifty thousand dollars to get that thing and have it set up. It’s top of the line, 4K, with absolutely amazing resolution.
It’s also going to be outdated in the next few months.
Normally, I’m not one to think about circumstances outside of my own. It might make be a bit of a dick, but it’s just my life. We donate to charities and we do the best we can. But we also have a lot of money, and we use it on what we want to use it on.
Things like TVs, private flights, yachts, and living for years without a job.
Those are normal.
Not once have I reconsidered those things. Not once have I felt guilty about having them.
Until the moment Hannah’s eyes widened at the size of my house. That’s the second I started to notice everything, like blinders had suddenly been peeled away from my eyes.
The huge fucking TV, the wine room that probably has a cool million in aged wine that might never get drunk, the painting on the wall my mom bought at auction for six figures that will be replaced by a new piece next season.
I think about what I know of Hannah’s life before coming here. The file I have in the office from years ago, detailing as much of her life as could be found at that time. Her report cards and statements from her foster care families.
She’d been a reckless teen in those reports. Now, having met her, I struggle with believing that’s the real story. Now, I see a woman who never felt comfortable enough in her skin when she was younger. Like she never belonged. A woman who was once a girl that had a hard time making friends and felt uncomfortable around men.
I clench my fists.
A girl who was assaulted and taken advantage of.
And I wonder if that money might have made her life better.
Different.
Not so full of turmoil.
I know that there’s a storm coming our way. Something intense and painful and… I feel helpless to stop it.
Because I want her here. In my house. Spending time with Ivy. Sitting at the pool. Laughing and signing and drinking disgusting vodka sodas.
