“I’ll take care of it,” Riot acknowledges Ryan’s request.
We silently watch Mason get into his SUV and back out of the driveway, onto the street followed closely by Ryan in his own car.
Clapping Logan on the back, Carson looks at the five of us that remain in the yard and says, “Great food, great friends, and an unexpected fist fight for entertainment. Best Thanksgiving ever.”
Chapter Forty
Closing my eyes, I lean my head on the closed back door and take a moment to breathe. I’m pretty sure I have done some damage to my hand and may have a cracked rib. What a total cluster fuck.
Walking over to the cabinet I take out a bottle of acetaminophen and pour a couple into my palm. Popping them into my mouth, I swallow them with some cold tap water. I have already been upstairs to clean up and change into some sweats. I know I’m just putting off the inevitable conversation that Hannah and I will be having, but I need a minute.
The kitchen has been cleaned up and the dishwasher is running, courtesy of Meg no doubt. The decorations Hannah lovingly placed on the table earlier in the day remain. There is still the scent of apple and cinnamon from the pie I made earlier clinging to the air as a reminder of the wonderful meal we just shared with our friends.
Everyone has left, and Hannah and I are alone for the first time. What started off as an amazing evening turned into a nightmare in the blink of an eye and I have nobody to blame but myself.
And Jackson becausefuck that guy.
I knew there was a risk he would show up. Hell, I was explicitly warned by our mother he would, but I never even took into consideration that it would be tonight. Obviously, I’m fucking stupid.
Walking into the living room, I find Hannah staring out into the dark street. The music has been turned off and the only sound that remains is the flicker of the flames and crackle of the wood in the fireplace. Her blonde hair has been pulled up on top of her head and she has her sweater wrapped around her tight like a hug. I want nothing more than to go to her, pull her into my arms and reassure her that everything will be okay, but I don’t know if that’s true.
When she hears me walk into the room, her posture stiffens for a moment before she turns to face me. Her brows knit as she glances down at my cut, swollen hand. When she finally meets my eyes, I see a storm of confusion and anger.
“Hey.” I walk towards her, and she steps back with her palms up to stop me from coming any closer.
“You need to get that checked.” She nods towards my swollen hand.
“I will if the swelling doesn’t go down in a couple of days.”
“Stupid man,” I hear her mumble under her breath. Sighing loudly, she says, “Start talking. What did Jackson mean? What secrets have you been keeping? None of that made any sense.” She vaguely gestures towards the window that faces the street, before she begins to pace back and forth the length of the room.
“Please come and sit down with me and I will tell you everything,” I ask, sitting down and patting the seat beside me. Morgan takes it as an invitation and jumps up. Hannah looks down and grins at my dog, but when she raises her eyes, her smile is immediately replaced by a frown. Lucky dog.
“I’m fine. I need to move.” She continues to walk, while rubbing her temples in a small circular motion.
Standing up carefully from the couch, I walk back into the kitchen and grab the medication I just took and a bottle of water from the fridge. She has been getting tension headaches since we were teenagers and needs to stay ahead of the pain. Returning, I place two pills into the palm of her hand, twist the lid off the water and hand it to her. Her features soften just for a moment as she accepts and takes the meds.
I return to my spot on the couch as she puts the bottle on the coffee table.
“Thank you. Did you take anything?” she asks quietly.
Nodding, I rest my elbows on my knees and temple my fingers in front of my mouth. “I don’t know where to start,” I confess.
It’s not like I haven’t thought about this, but now that it has been forced upon me, I don’t know where to begin.
Pausing her steps for just a moment, she meets my eyes with her bright green ones and pleads, “The beginning, Logan. Please just start at the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”
“Okay.” Taking a giant breath and releasing it, I try to collect myself before I start telling a story that very few people know. Leaning back on the couch, I stroke Morgan’s soft fur, grateful for the comfort he unknowingly provides.
“After your father’s death, we decided that I would return to university, and you were going to defer your semester so you could stay here to help your mom. I came back a week later to bring you some clothes and stuff from your apartment. It was Valentine’s Day.”
“I know all this, Logan, I was there. What does that have to do with Jackson?” she says, her voice laced with annoyance.
“I know you are angry, but please be patient with me. So much of this isn’t my story to tell but I became complicit to it.”
“Sorry,” she mumbles an unnecessary apology for the interruption, “go ahead.” She gestures with her hand for me to carry on.
Twisting my bracelet around my wrist, I continue, “I spent the night with you at your mom’s place on Saturday night.” She nods, confirming the memory. “On Sunday, I decided to visit my dad before heading back to the city. I hadn’t seen much of him in the couple of weeks I had previously been home, so I wanted to check in. When I got there, I could hear Jackson and my dad having an argument. Jackson was screaming at him, but a lot of what I was hearing didn’t make any sense. When I found them, I was surprised to find my mom was there too. She had obviously been crying.”
