Page 25 of Until Hanna

“Explained who I am to you.”

“You told my parents you’re a guy I hooked up with while I was on vacation?” This just keeps getting worse and worse.

“You and I both know I’m more than that,” he says gently.

“Who exactly did you say you are?”

“A guy you just started seeing.”

“You didn’t,” I breathe and then start to panic when he doesn’t tell me he’s joking. “You are joking, right?”

“Your friend Star sent you a text. She asked you to let her know when you’re back, and April—who I’m guessing is your cousin—wanted to know how I was in bed.”

“I can’t believe you’ve been reading my messages.” Even though I know a preview pops up on the screen when it’s locked, I have mine set to not show the actual message. I have nosy cousins, after all. So how is he—

“All is fair in love and war.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll figure it out,” he mumbles, then asks, “Has anyone called me?”

“Lindsey,” I snap.

“What did she say?”

My eyes widen. “I don’t know. I didn’t answer her call.”

“Why not?”

“Because this is not my phone,” I remind him of something I shouldn’t have to remind him of.

“Lindsey is the chef on the ship we work on. She was probably calling to ask if we had any special requests for our next trip out. I have exes, but none of them call me.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“You didn’t, but I’m letting you know anyway, so you’ll know that when my phone rings, it’s not some chick I’ve been with.”

“I don’t need to know that.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Walker—”

“You said you missed the red flags with your ex.”

“The way you’re acting is a red flag, Walker!” I cry, sliding off my stool, and I begin to pace between the living room and kitchen.

“How did you feel this morning when you woke up to find me gone?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“You know it fucking does, Hanna, because I fuckinghatedleaving you,” he growls, and darn if those stupid tears I fought off this morning don’t sting my nose again. “I get you’re scared, but I’m not. So while you figure out you can trust me, I’m going to keep shoving us forward.”

“You’re insane,” I whisper.

“Maybe,” he agrees, not sounding even a little offended. “I’ve got some time off in a little over two weeks. I’ll come to you, or you’ll come to me, and between then and now, we can talk on the phone, or email when I don’t have service.”

“You can’t just decide these things.”

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