“I don’t know?—”
“Yes, you do. You know exactly what you want, you just don’t think you deserve it.”
Milo rolled his eyes, his arm dropping from the door and wrapping around her back.
“You deserve everything, Milo. You deserve to feel loved even when you’re still falling apart. You deserve to be held together by someone even more fucked up than you.”
He laughed against the side of her neck, burying his face, but she could feel his tears on her skin.
“How many therapists does it take to get both our heads out of our asses?”
“Five by my count,” she sighed.
Milo leaned away from her touch. “Four and a shaman.”
That’s when Hanna rolled her eyes.
“I think I still need to be an asshole for a few more hours,” he said, sniffling and untangling from her, though she knew he had no interest in letting go. “After the rehearsal dinner, we can have it out. I promise.”
“I can handle that,” she said.
She slid into the car, trying to hide the smile breaking over her face. She let him drive back in the aching silence he craved, but when they got back to the house, he squeezed her hand before disappearing.
The pressure of his fingertips in her palm was a promise they could solve every last one of the problems she’d brought back to California.
TWENTY-EIGHT
“Hi, wedding buddy,” Hanna said, clapping her hand over Logan’s shoulder.
He stood on the porch, overlooking an endless sea of fluffy green grapevines as Marcia and Cami issued marching orders to the rest of the groomsmen. She tried not to stare at Milo as he helped Brendon—Brandon—move a table, the ink on his arms flexing in the glittering string lights overhead.
“Did you get everything you needed in town?” Logan asked, arching his brows.
“Almost,” Hanna said. “What about you? What are we doing these days? Apps?”
He laughed, sipping sparkling water. “No. We’re doing nothing, at least for now.”
Milo set the table down and turned his head, catching her eyes. He lingered, a slight smile forcing its way through his brooding.
“Goddamn,” Logan sighed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know that I’ve ever looked at someone like that.”
“I know,” Hanna laughed.
“You know how I know we’re fine?”
Hanna twisted toward him, adjusting the cap sleeve of her dress.
“How?”
“I think I’m jealous of you, not him.”
Her lips folded into a gentle smile as she touched his arm.
“You’re a catch, Logan. Someone will look at you like that one day.” She paused, a thought occurring to her. “And if you’re into redheads…”
“Chloe?” Logan asked, cocking his head to the side.
Hanna shrugged. “I bored you. Chloe is anything but.”
