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fourteen
HANNAH
The clatterof mugs and the rich, earthy scent of ground coffee beans filled the Witch’s Brew as I nudged open the door, my heart pounding a wild rhythm. Tom followed behind me, his posture rigid, a testament to the awkwardness between us. The air was a mix of cinnamon and impending doom, and I wrapped my fingers tighter around the strap of my purse, my palms slick with nerves.
I guided us to a corner table, away from prying ears but still shielded by the semi-public cloak of the coffee shop. As we settled into our seats, my eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the whimsical witchy decorations adorning the walls. Crystals of all shapes and sizes hung from strings, casting colorful rainbows across the room. A shelf of glass bottles filled with various herbs and potions caught my attention, their labels handwritten in elegant script. I could have let it distract me all day, but I needed to get this over with.
“Tom, before you go back to Hartford, I just wanted to make things crystal clear,” I began, tapping my fingers on the worn wooden table, tracing the grooves as if they could somehow guide my words. “About us, about where I am in life, and what I want... or more accurately, what I don’t.”
He leaned back in his chair, a frown creasing his otherwise smooth face. “Okay, so talk to me.”
“We both need to move on. For good. We spent the last year just...going in circles, and that wasn’t healthy for either of us.”
“Move on?” He blinked, confusion etching his features. “Hannah, you’re not making sense. We had something good. Why throw that away? I gave you some space, I let you pull your little tantrum and move away, but now it’s time to take me back. Surely you can see that this town isn’t for you. It pales in comparison to what I can offer you.”
Wow he really was the worst.
“We’re not right for each other. I need more than just the security of familiarity, Tom. I need passion, growth... I need to breathe.”
“Christ, Hannah, you’re being dramatic. All this overblown talk about breathing, can’t you see how ridiculous you sound?”
“Maybe to you,” I shot back, my composure fraying. “But to me, it’s obvious. I can’t be who I am, who I’m meant to be, if I stay with you.”
“Who you’re meant to be?” He sneered. “You mean a basket case who couldn’t even choose a paint color for our living room without a meltdown?”
I could feel all eyes on me as Tom’s voice rose. Every fiber of my being wanted to melt into the floor. Sara caught my eye and looked like she wanted to intervene, but I shook my head slightly. I didn’t want anyone else to get involved in my mess.
“You’ll never find anyone else who puts up with your indecisiveness and your little...quirks. I was doing you a favor.”
My throat tightened, but I refused to let him see the sting. “I don’t need anyone to put up with me. I need someone who understands me.”
“Understands you?” He barked out a laugh that turned heads. “Good luck with that.”
He stood abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the wooden floor. People’s gazes swiveled in unison toward us, their conversations pausing as they sipped from mugs adorned with frothy hearts and leaves.
“Watch me walk away, Hannah.” Tom’s voice was cold and hard, a riptide threatening to pull me back to the depths. “When you realize you’ve fucked up, don’t come crawling back to me.”
With that, he stormed out, pushing through the door so violently it slammed against the wall with a sound that echoed through the silence he left behind.
* * *
“What an asshole.”
“Truly.”
I was convinced that Sara had texted Alex, because she conveniently appeared a few minutes later, looking at me like I was a wounded puppy.
Sara had brought over a plate of cookies and a cup of hot chocolate. I would have preferred to slink off, never to be seen again, but I knew that wouldn’t solve anything, so I forced myself to stay for a bit. Like pulling off the bandaid of my embarrassment.
“You are so much better off without him, sweetie,” Sara said, kissing my cheek, before returning to the counter to get back to work.
“She’s right. Any guy that takes a breakup that bad is unhinged. Red flags everywhere.”
“That wasn’t even the breakup. It was like, the aftermath debriefing.”
“Well hopefully he got the message this time.”
The bell on the door jingled, a deeper ring than the one at the clinic, but familiar all the same. I looked up and caught sight of him—Sawyer. His presence was a beacon in the fog, the flicker of recognition in his honey brown eyes sparking something within me.
