Page 63 of Whenever You Call

“You forfeit the game?”

“It’s all yours. Congratulations. You win.”

“Christ. It must be something serious.” He paused until his strained voice hit my ear again. “I didn’t know you had friends in Beverly Hills.”

I stopped what I was doing, not realizing just how close he’d gotten, or the fact that he hung over my shoulder, no doubt seeing what I’d typed into the Uber driver. Turning slowly, I caught Jerry’s eye.

“Hannah, huh?” he said, brow raised.

“What?”

“That’s what you called her on the phone before you walked out of here like someone had just shoved a rocket up your ass.Hannah.I’m assuming she’s the emergency in Beverly Hills.”

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

Of course, Jerry knew the name of Cole Newman’s wife. Everybody did. He also knew how much I’d wrestled with all of this since that fateful night. It wouldn’t take him long to put two and two together and get four, especially now he knew I was heading out to Beverly Hills late at night.

I could have stayed and fought my case.

I could have told him there were a million Hannahs in that part of the city, and the whole thing was just a coincidence. But I decided it was best to neither confirm nor deny a damn thing because either way, I would sure as shit fuck it up and make myself look guilty. Plus, Jerry was already drunk, and I had to hope that would delay him putting all the pieces of the puzzle together until I figured out what the hell to tell him should he ever ask me for the truth.

I ran a hand down my T-shirt, tucking my cell into my back pocket again. “I’ll speak to you tomorrow, Jerry. Not tonight.” And before he could even open his mouth to respond, I turned and walked away, leaving behind a man with too many questions as I ran toward a woman who needed me more.

She openedthe door wearing a long, thin, cream cardigan that she pulled around her body in a hug. Her hair had been pushed back with a black elastic band that exposed her beautiful face, even with the tear stains tracking down each red cheek. Her hollow, sad eyes rose up to take me in, and with just one look, a new wave of tears sprung to life, glistening against the diluted light of the foyer.

I wanted to hold her. I wanted to wrap my arms around her body the way she’d wrapped her arms around herself. I wanted to press my lips to the top of her head, sway her against me until the rhythm of us together lulled her into contentment.

Instead, I took a step closer, followed by another, until she began to step back, allowing me inside. Once the door fell shut behind us, Hannah hugged herself tightly again like her life depended on it. A woman so used to being alone even when she’d had somebody.

She stuttered in another breath and rubbed a sleeve-covered hand over her chest.

“It hurts,” she said.

“Your chest?”

Her eyes rose to meet mine again. “Everything.”

Fuck, now Ineededto hold her. She looked like she needed it, too, and my arms were desperate to offer that up, but I didn’t want to cross any boundaries, and I wasn’t sure it wouldn’t mess with her head even more. I didn’t want to be the source of any more pain.

“What do you need from me?” I asked carefully.

Her eyes searched mine. “I don’t know.”

“You do, Hannah,” I said, daring to take another step closer. “You’re just too afraid to ask anyone for it because you haven’t done that before. You don’t need to be afraid of asking me. Whatever it is, you can have it.”

“Why can’t all men be like you, Logan?” she asked, inhaling another breath that sounded like it cut her in two on the way out. “Why can’t all men be good?”

“Don’t put me on a pedestal.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t deserve to be there.”

“I think you do.”

I lifted my hand to her face, brushing a falling tear away with my thumb before I rested my palm against her cheek. Hannah’s eyes closed, and she leaned into it, her nostrils flaring as she pulled in her first real breath since I arrived.

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