Chloe looped her arm through Hanna’s as they waited in line for the bathroom.
The bar was beyond a dive, but in a charming way, or perhaps it was Chloe’s proximity that made it appear so. The smoke scent clinging to the walls was as old as she was. There were more people on the stage than watching the band cycle through their renditions of Seattle’s best, but they were having fun, so that was enough.
“They’re getting better,” Chloe said, nodding her head back toward the end of the bar where Milo stood guard over their table and drinks.
Hanna slipped into a warm smile, aided by the third Jack and Diet she’d ordered, much to Milo’s disappointment. “I like the nostalgia of it all.”
“I like that I have someone to wait in line with now,” Chloe said, squeezing Hanna’s elbow.
“Are you sure?” she asked. “I always worry I’m ruining date night for you guys.”
Chloe snorted. “Hardly. Milo and I are just friends.”
“Yeah, he’s, uh, explained it to me a few times.”
“It’s bullshit, to be frank,” she muttered, stepping forward as the bathroom door swung open. “But there’s no convincing him he’s going to live a long and miserable life.”
Hanna bit the inside of her cheek. “It’s hard. Once there’s a number on the table to outlive… the idea of making it longer than your parent did is horrifying.”
Chloe squeezed Hanna’s arm. “I hope you don’t mind that Milo told me about your mom. He wasn’t happy about the whole Love Story thing.”
“Oh,” Hanna said, holding the door as Chloe stepped in. “It’s okay. You didn’t know!”
Chloe motioned her forward. “Here, we can trauma bond while we pee.” Hanna stepped into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. It was the most intimacy she’d shared with someone in a long time, and she couldn’t help but mentally rally against the fact that it was with Chloe and not the guy waiting for them.
“Milo and I met in group therapy as teenagers,” she said, peeling off her jeans. Hanna traced phone numbers scribbled on the walls. “My sister and I were in a car accident in high school. Bitch died on me.” She stood and washed her hands while Hanna took her turn. “I’ve forgiven her now, but took a good ten years of hating her first.”
“That’s awful,” Hanna sighed. She always hated hearing it, but selfishly, it helped to know she wasn’t alone.
“We reconnected when I started working with him. It’s the only reason he hangs out with me—I already know his bullshit.” She moved out of the way to let Hanna wash her hands, watching her in the mirror. “We haven’t hooked up since you got here.”
Hanna looked up from the sink, her eyes connecting with Chloe’s.
“Really?”
“Just some trivia for you,” Chloe said, a smirk pulling at her lips.
“Sorry—”
“Oh, I’m not telling you because I care! I’ve got plenty of other situationships to take up my time. I just thought you’d want to know.” Chloe reached forward and smoothed Milo’s collar over her neck. “Cool shirt.”
Hanna laughed. “You didn’t get it for him, did you?”
“No,” she sighed, bumping the door with her hip and holding it for Hanna. “The flannels are all his dad’s.”
Chloe skipped toward the bar in the way she skipped toward everything, leaving Hanna to sweat under Milo’s stare as she crossed back to him. The band took to the stage again, diving into another set of late-nineties hits, this time with a twang.
Hanna’s heart beat as each chord plucked at memories within her. Her mother’s permed hair bouncing in the kitchen as she did dishes and belted every word to every song that graced the country hits station, nowhere near the right key. She swallowed as she tried to tell herself it was okay—that it wasn’t going to kill her to feel something, that it would pass.
“You good, Arizona?” Milo watched as she struggled to keep her lip from wobbling.
“Fine,” she said, ignoring his unimpressed frown. His hand pressed into the small of her back, the warmth giving her something else entirely to hold onto.
Something even worse than the memories of her mother—the memories she’d never make with Milo.
“You’re still having a hard day,” Milo said, the words slipping over her shoulders and poking at bruises as they stepped onto the elevator.
He hit floor four, and she shrugged, silently proving his observation true.
