Page 46 of When We Were Us
“There’s so much—” My voice cracks and I shake my head, but I can’t seem to talk around the lump in my throat.
“Ah fuck—” He drags a hand down his face. “I didn’t mean to make you— Ah, damn it.” He reaches out and the strong fingers of one hand curl around the back of my neck, and his other arm captures me around my waist as he pulls me into him.
I press my face into his shirt and wrap both my arms around his middle, letting the tears fall. He feels so solid, so right,so good,wrapped around me. He rests his chin on the top of my head as I sob. Pain, grief, and regret mix with my tears as I soak his shirt front.
My heart breaks that I wasn’t here for my grandparents—for both of them—but it also expands my heart knowing that Hankwas. This incredible, caring, and yes, irritating man isn’t even family, yet he had been taking care of my granddad in some form or fashion for God only knows how many years. Even after everything that happened between us.
This was the Hank I knew. This was the man who stuck around and did what I should have; what I couldn’t bring myself to do. I feel extremely selfish at that moment, and I can’t bring myself to meet Hank’s eyes. No wonder why he thought so little of me and treated me with such contempt. I deserved it.
I had so badly wanted out of Timber Forge—out from under all the gossipy busy bodies—that it was like I'd had tunnel vision. I’d never wanted a life in a town where everyone knew my business. I didn’t want to get married young and start having lots of babies like everyone else in this town had.
I never wanted to wake up five, ten, or fifteen years later, resenting my life, and then leave my family heartbroken and confused like my mother did when she left. I didn’t want to drink myself to death like my father did because he never got over my mother. I didn’t want their lives. And in the end, that meant I didn’t want the life Hank did.
Hehadwanted those things. He wanted marriage and babies and Timber Forge. But it wasn't enough for me. I’d wanted to follow my dreams. As much as I had wanted Hank, I hadn’t been able to give him any of it. So, I’d left. In the process, I abandoned my grandparents and quite possibly the best man I had ever known.It’s overwhelming that I feel so safe with this man after all these years.
I slide my hands back around Hank’s waist, bumping the pistol I’ve come to know is usually strapped to his hip. My fingers grip his shirt, reluctant to lose his warmth, but I’m unable to touch him the way I want to so badly—the way I would if I didn’t put some immediate space between us.
I have no right to want Hank. No right to feel the things I was feeling after all these years. He deserved someone who could give him the things he needed and wanted, not some fucked-up version of the woman he wished I was. Not a woman who couldn’t even keep her life together. For all I know, he has that. It doesn’t seem possible that he wouldn’t at least be dating someone.
Hank deserves marriage, as many babies as he can have, and most importantly, a life in Timber Forge. But that isn’t me. That isn’t my life.So, I push away from him gently and wipe at my face.
He drops his arms, taking a small step back.
“Sorry about that.” I feel more than a little embarrassed, but when I dare to look up at him, his expression is soft.
“You don't have to apologize, Wren. It's all good.”
Swiping once more at my eyes, I nod and turn my gaze back up at the missing vent. I blowout a shaky breath. “So, if you can’t find the vent, you can buy one, right?”
He bobs his head, turning to look up at it, too. His voice rasps low, raw, “Sure, yeah.”
“Ok, what’s next then? The shutter out front?” I point and he starts walking in that direction. “Also, can you look at that water spigot out there too? I’m pretty sure something is wrong with it because there’s still barely any water pressure.”
“Ok, yeah. I’ll check it out,” he says as I follow him to the front porch. “Also, there aren’t any leaks, but depending on who buys this place, they may stipulate a new roof as part of their contract. Hutch had mentioned it to Vern last fall, but with winter, we never did get around to getting bids. The shingles are pretty old. It's not a must, but just so you’re aware that it might come up.”
I nod and stifle a groan, but just barely.
“I’ll just make a list of everything we need and head over to the hardware store. I can get started in the morning.”
He stays on the walkway as I climb the stairs, and I can’t help but remember the last conversation we had out here. If you could call it a conversation. It was more like a fight than anything I’d had in a while. I remember feeling pissed off and exhilarated all at the same time.
He lifts a hand and turns to go. “Hey, Hank?” I call as he reaches the driver side of his pickup.
“Yeah?” From across the hood, dark eyebrows come together over expectant hazel eyes as he turns back.
Maybe it's the way he looks at me, or the soul-crushing tenderness with which he held me just now. Or maybe it’s nostalgia for what we used to have. Hell, it could just be a case of temporary insanity. But I don’t want him to leave not knowing how I feel, or how much I appreciate what he did for my granddad, and what he’s continuing to do for me.
I grip the railing in my hands, willing the wobble out of my voice. “You’re a good man.”
His chest expands on a deep inhale, and he nods once. “Thanks, Wren.”
Then he’s gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
wrenley
A loud poundingwrenches me from sleep. A quick check of my phone tells me it’s one-forty in the morning. My heart racing, I lay still for a moment. The pounding stops and then starts again a few seconds later. It registers then that it’s coming from the front porch, but I can’t imagine who would be pounding on my door in the middle of the night.
