He cut off the engine, but before he could even swing his door open, Hanna was up and off, brushing quickly through the gate and reaching for the handle of the front door.
Any drunk confidence that propelled her through the yard had vanished by the time she got to the threshold, the sounds of a buzzing family gathering striking a chord somewhere in her memories.
Her fingers lingered on the bronze of the funeral home’s bathroom door, the next room over humming with thoughts and prayers.
A wave of panic gripped her throat—not just about seeing Logan, but seeing everyone. She’d spent the last year holed up in her home like a hermit, dreading the day she’d have to make her public debut again.
The universe was cruel for shoving two of her biggest heartbreaks into one calendar year.
It wasn’t Logan’s fault her mom got sick and died two months after he shattered her entire world. No one could have predicted it.
But still.
Who else was there to blame?
She hesitated for another moment, long enough for Milo to catch up to her.
“You ready for this, Arizona?”
She inhaled, holding the breath longer than necessary. He leaned around her and pushed the front door open, arching his brows.
“Fuck you,” she muttered.
“Say please,” he bit, his hand pushing against the small of her back and forcing her into the house.
TWO
The rich scent of Cami’s kitchen hit Hanna like a slap on the ass after a game well played.
“You’re heeeeeeeere!” Sara squealed, her arms capturing Hanna before she made it through the foyer and squeezing the ever-loving shit out of her.
Hanna’s ribs crunched, but the human contact wasn’t all that unwanted after months of cradling herself.
“I aaaaaam,” she mimicked, matching the energy as best she could. She could tell by the soft pity in Sara’s eyes that she wasn’t even close.
“Oh my god, I have so much to show you. Mom and I have been busy this week! Come in! Come in! Oh, hey, Milo,” Sara said, shuffling behind them to pull the front door closed. Her small frame looked practically miniature beside him, but Hanna knew Sara could take him no problem.
She was a spitfire.
Her highlighted hair glowed like a golden honey halo around her tan face, the curled ends sweeping just below her shoulders against a white lace dress. She looked like she had walked right out of the Engagement Party Pinterest board they’d curated years prior, long before Matty had even popped the question. They’d devoted hours to pinning photos and giggling in their dorm room.
“Thank you for your service,” Sara whispered to Milo.
“I’m fine,” Hanna insisted.
“I know!” Sara chirped, studying her friend. “Let’s get you some food.”
She must have looked worse than she felt.
Sara pulled her hand through the house and into the massive open kitchen where they used to talk about boys over waffles. Cami buzzed behind the island, shuffling dishes to make room for something in the oven.
“Hanna! My sweet girl,” she cooed, sinking her into a wine-soaked hug. Hanna did everything she could to not let her mind wander to how similar hugging her felt to hugging her own mother, breathing through a deep pain in her side.
She’d gotten used to it—the ache in her muscles and bones at the smallest reminders of what she’d lost. The sudden vice-grip around her heart at a laugh that was too similar, or a pair of glasses that looked like her mom’s.
“You’re not eating enough,” Cami chastised, poking at Hanna’s hips.
"I came to remedy that!" She laughed it off, but it was always the first thing people commented on. What else was she supposed to say?
