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“Liam,” he says, his voice drifting over my shoulder and up my neck.
“Yeah, Dad?”
“Go get her, son.”
This stops me in my tracks. I turn to look over my shoulder and find him grinning from ear to ear. He’s made comments over the years about me and Hannah, but nothing to allude to the fact that he actually thought we had something. Now, as he looks at me, I realize that he is far more observant than I’ve given him credit for.
“That’s the plan.”
I raise my knuckles to the cold painted wood of Hannah’s apartment door, tentatively tapping out a rhythm. When there’s no response, I find myself pounding on the door with increasing force until my fists are sore, yet still there is no sound from within. Five minutes have gone by and I’m growing more desperate for a sign that someone is home. The warmth of the takeout in my right hand is causing my palm to sweat, or it could be how wound up I am right now. Can’t be totally sure at the moment.
“What?!” Sage’s irritated voice carries through the wood before she swings the door open. Her face is flushed and her eyebrows are pinched together in a scowl. She wears a short silk robe, the belt cinched tightly at the waist. Her curly hair isunruly, as if she just woke up, but is snugly tied up with a silk scarf. Without any makeup, Sage looks younger than she usually does. Despite her unguarded, raw look, the rage in her eyes is palpable.
“Seriously, Sage? It’s noon.”
“Really? That’s the attitude you want to take with me right now? I work at a bar, asshole. I didn’t get home until 4:00 AM.”
“Fair, I’m sorry,” I say with a sigh, rubbing my eyes. “Is Hannah home?”
“Yes.” As Sage doesn’t move to allow me in, I pin her with a glare, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Can Iseeher?”
“Nope.”
“Sage, please.”
“Liam,no.”
“Why?” I sigh, loosening my arms across my chest as I watch the tension in her shoulders relax.
She rolls her eyes before stepping into the hallway, allowing the door to click shut behind her. Her voice pitches low as she looks up at me, the anger from before melting into something like sympathy.
“Look, I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what happened between you two today, but you fucked up. She came home hysterical and, if I’m being honest, she hasn’t stopped crying.” As she continues to fill me in, my stomach drops with every word that leaves her lips. “That being said, I don’t think this is the right time for you two to talk. Whatever happened has her in her head and I know nothing positive would come from you two talking right now.”
While I know she’s probably right, the idea of just allowing Hannah to stew in whatever she’s feeling right now makes menauseous. I’ve spent countless days being the cause of her anguish, and the thought of it actually has me ready to break down this door to get to her.
“Sage, I can’t just not do anyth—”
“You can and you will. It’ll only make things worse. So, put your ego aside and trust me.”
I want to trust her. She is easily one of my best friends and I trust her judgment, but when it comes to me and Hannah, the idea of letting this linger for any longer sounds like a nightmare.
Myworst nightmare.
The desire I feel to go into their apartment and force Hannah to talk to me is rooted in quelling this anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach and has nothing to do with whether it’ll help Hannah.
With that, I let out a sigh, extending the brown takeout bag to Sage. “Give this to her, please. It’s her favorite and she left before lunch.”
Sage sighs as she wraps her fingers around the generic bag, nodding in recognition. “She’ll talk to you when she’s ready.”
I nod in response before stepping away down the empty hallway. My pride is wounded, but my mind doesn’t leave Hannah the entire drive home.
FORTY-FIVE
HANNAH
The front door to our apartment clicks shut quietly as Sage reappears in the living room, this time with a takeout bag. Despite my attempts to listen to their conversation, the walls in this building are surprisingly thick.
