“Don’t you dare tell Mom. Or Dad. Or literally anybody.”
“You know I won’t.” He sighed and leaned back against the couch cushion. Then he grimaced and leaned forward again because it was an awful fake-leather material that was highly unpleasant when it was hot. It was almost enough to make Rob smile. “You need to think long and hard about this, Bobby. I know it’s hard to imagine not living here surrounded by your incredibly handsome and funny family, but I like her for you. There’s something real between you and even if you do go your separate ways, you need to tell her how you feel.”
“I don’t know if I can. I saw those notes and I told her our summer fling was overbecauseI don’t think I can take the pain of telling her I love her and having it rejected.”
“That pain will heal. But I think the pain of wondering will haunt you.”
Rob looked sideways at him. “I know older brothers are supposed to be wiser and all, but you’re treading really close to the self-help book line.”
“It’s the heat,” Brian said. “I’m suffocating and underoxygenated.”
“I’m getting a beer.”
“Get me one, too. It won’t help, but maybe it’ll make me care less.”
When Rob retrieved two and bent to hand him the ice-cold bottle, Brian captured his fingers along with the beer so he had no choice but to stay and look at him. “Think about it, Bobby. No matter where you are, we’re your family and we’ve got your back. We’re always here. You need to ask yourself if you’re ready to spend the rest of your life without Hannah because you were scared.”
It wasn’t until he nodded that his brother released his hand, sliding the bottle out of his grasp.
Rob sat and twisted the cap off, but he paused before taking a sip. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life without Hannah.”
“Then you better start thinking about what you’re going to say, little brother, because winning a woman back is always harder than finding her in the first place.”
“Okay, we definitely need better air-conditioning if this is what heat does to you. A few more degrees and you’ll have us all doing yoga.”
Hannah heard the footsteps in the gravel, but she was in the process of trying to stow the two camp chairs in the storage compartment and they didn’t want to fit beside the small grill. Since she didn’t care who was coming into her site, she didn’t bother to turn around.
“Hannah.”
She closed her eyes, allowing the pain of hearing her name from Rob’s lips to wash over her. Then, when she was fairly confident she could see his face without bursting into tears, she straightened and turned to face him.
Rob looked like hell. His face was puffy and the dark circles under his eyes spoke to a serious lack of quality sleep. He looked a lot like she felt, actually.
“What can I do for you?” she asked, surprised and pleased that her voice sounded steady.
“You’re leaving.”
“Yes.” She’d sent the notice to the main campground email address, neither knowing nor caring which of them would read it. “I made my decision so there’s nothing left to keep me here.”
He flinched as if she’d struck him, but then he took a deep breath. “I’m glad you made the decision.”
“I’m not going to change the format and Erika’s probably going to leave the podcast for greener pastures.” She waved her hand. “Not that you care.”
“I care.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground for a long time. When he lifted his head again, his eyes were full of raw emotion. “I lied.”
The look on his face was shredding her heart, even though she didn’t know what he was talking about. “What did you lie about?”
“I lied when I said we were a summer fling that had run its course. I used those words because Erika did and they hurt me. So I used them to hurt you.”
Tears welled in her eyes and she shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“I love you.” He said the words with certainty, looking her in the eye, and they were like a punch to her chest. “I didn’t want to tell you that because you had so much on your plate already and I didn’t want to add to it because it would be hard. My family and my job are here. Your family and your job are all the way across the country. But those plans... I couldn’t ask you to stay. But now you’re leaving and I didn’t want you to go thinking I didn’t care because that’s a lie. I love you, Hannah. That’s the truth and I just wanted you to know it before you go.”
He gave her a sad look, and then turned to leave. Hannah ran his words through her head over and over, trying to understand—trying to take in the one thing that made sense.
He loved her.
And she loved him. That was also the truth.
