Zach? That just didn’t make sense. It was so unbelievable, she put it on the back burner.
The most hurtful realization was that Jake was a lying womanizer. Memories of Jake’s coworker telling Hannah that Jake was a player and the subsequent conversation she had with Jake to confirm it were vivid. He’d admitted he didn’t want to settle down, wasn’t the type to commit, and only had one-night stands. A lot of them. That’s why she’d turned him down all those months ago. That’s why she’d parked him in the friend zone.
She also remembered that he knew damn good and well that was the reason. She’d been very candid with him at the time, and they’d joked about it recently, so she knew it wasn’t something he’d forgotten. After the accident, she’d asked multiple times if he knew why she’d said no to dating, and each time he said he didn’t. Which was a lie. It didn’t matter that she’d more or less put it all together last night after going to the bar. That didn’t diminish the fact that he’d lied to her. Repeatedly.
Suddenly feeling dirty and betrayed, she got out of bed, packed up her meager belongings, and called a cab. On the kitchen table, she found a note from Jake saying he’d gone to play racquetball with Sam and that if she wanted something special for breakfast to text him. Stupid, sweet note. She flipped it over, wrote a short note of her own, and left it on the table along with the keys to his car and house. Not wanting to face him, she prayed the cab would arrive before he got back. Thank God it did. She said goodbye to Lucky, locked him in the laundry room, and got the heck out of there.
On the cab ride back to her apartment, she gave attention to another interesting bit of newly discovered information—the estrangement causing argument she’d had with her parents. While it was true she didn’t want to get into her trust fund, her father had neglected to mention that he’d tried to bribe the UW admissions office to get her into the school. A small but crucial detail that had actually been the root of the argument.
He’d claimed it wasn’t a “bribe,” that he was just going to make a large donation to the science department. A donation that just happened to coincide with when Hannah was applying. When Hannah found out, she’d forbidden it and said if the donation was well-intended, he could give it after she was accepted or denied.
Getting denied hurt. Badly. And telling her parents had been humiliating, but she would rather be rejected fairly than accepted because of her father’s money. The UW was notorious for being very competitive. She knew that when she applied. Rather than give up, she enrolled in community college and set about getting the best grades possible so she could apply again the following year as a transfer student. Because she also worked full time, it took her three years, but she finally got in.
Before she broke down and took out a student loan, money was so tight, there were quarters she could only afford one class. Then she’d discovered that not all of her community college credits would transfer to the university. And changing her major halfway through certainly didn’t help. All that explained why it had taken her forever to get through school. She would probably be one of the oldest UW undergraduates in history. She smiled at the thought—just a couple more weeks.
Now that she remembered everything and finally had some usable information, she needed to call the detectives. She was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that it was Zach who’d pushed her. Helping catch her attacker probably should have been higher on her list of significant things to worry about, but the whole thing was so preposterous, she was tempted to laugh it off as an accident or a joke gone wrong. Knowing it was Zach, she found herself more annoyed than scared.
Zach was smart and kind and…normal. He wasn’t a murderer. Sure, he’d wanted her to use the trust fund money, but that was a far stretch from wanting to kill her over it. She couldn’t fathom how he’d apparently become so desperate and violent, that killing her to lay claim to her money seemed like a good idea. Surely, he knew it was an asinine plan with virtually no chance at success.
On the way home, she’d called the super to let him know she was coming. He met her in the lobby and gave her the new keys to her place. Entering the apartment felt both totally normal and totally strange. She’d done it a thousand times, but going from Jake’s cozy farm cottage to her sparse, blah apartment was kind of a bummer. She’d grown accustomed to Jake’s spacious, modern kitchen and cushy, comfortable furniture. And, well, she’d become accustomed to Jake.Sigh.
Before calling the detectives, she sent a text to Ashley to let her know she had her memory back and to ask if anyone had told her friend Wolfe what had happened. He would worry if she missed too many days of not meeting him in the alley. Ashley assured her that they had taken care of Wolfe and that they were excited to see her again.
Relieved that Wolfe knew she hadn’t abandoned him, she dialed the number on the detective’s business card and plopped down onto her lumpy sofa. It was Saturday, so she wasn’t surprised when he didn’t answer. She left a voicemail telling him where Zach worked and lived and what kind of car he drove. They shouldn’t have a problem finding and arresting him. She was half-tempted to call Zach and ask him what the hell he’d been thinking, but decided against it and slipped the phone back into her pocket.
She thought she loved him—that was why she told him about the money. But from the moment he found out about it, their relationship was never the same. Money did weird things to people, made them act differently. That was the reason she never told anyone who her parents were. It was also the main reason she’d stayed off social media and kept such a low profile.
Well, she was done with Zach. The detectives could figure it out and take care of him. She leaned back on her crappy couch and stared at the crappy, small TV sitting on a crappy, plastic tote. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d turned it on. School and work kept her busy, and even when she did have a moment to watch it, she never found anything worth her time.
Her stomach let out a growl. It was after noon, and she still hadn’t eaten. Dragging herself off the couch, she took the three steps required to get to the kitchen, which, of course, was bare. She checked the cupboards, and sure enough, found plenty of flour, sugar, and chocolate chips. Remembering that she ate an unhealthy diet of cookies and pop was oddly comforting. She remembered she liked the dough more than the actual cookies. And that she usually replaced half of the butter with peanut butter. A walk to the store would only take a minute. It was cold, but the fresh air would be nice. She put on a coat and slipped on her rain boots.
As she walked, she kept an eye out for Zach, just in case. He had no way of knowing she’d regained her memory or moved back to her apartment, but she didn’t want to be like one of those idiot girls in the slasher movies that traipsed right into danger, either. Her hand stayed wrapped around the pepper spray Jake had given her, but she hadn’t needed it. She made it to the corner store and back without incident, locked the newly installed deadbolt, and whipped up a half batch of chocolate chip goodness.
Sitting on the couch with a stomachache, regretting her lunch choice, she contemplated her life. She’d achieved a lot—gotten into college on her own merits, paid for it herself, and was now poised to buy her own business. Those were admirable accomplishments, but her personal life was a disaster. She’d fallen in love with one man who turned out to be a killer and another who was a liar. Jake’s sin paled in comparison to Zach’s, but it didn’t make Jake’s sting any less.
Yes, Jake had hurt her, but she also had to give him some credit. He hadn’t been lying when he told her they really hadn’t known each other all that well. Even so, he’d taken her in and taken care of her when she had no one else. He’d been amazing, and no matter what happened between them, she’d be grateful for that. She felt betrayed now, but maybe they could return to being friends one day.
He’d called twice, but she didn’t pick up, and he didn’t leave a message. Eventually, she would talk with him, but right now she had no idea what to say. She had some feelings to sort through first.
Did she regret sleeping with him? Not really, but she also knew there was no future for them. Now that she was no longer a bother, he’d probably be back at the bars picking up women again. It must have been such a burden for him to be so tied down for the last few weeks.
It was the lying that had her so upset. She’d asked him flat out twice why they hadn’t dated, and neither time did he come clean. If he would lie about that, what else would he fib about? His feelings for her? Did he even have feelings for her?
Maybe those two phone calls would be his only attempts to contact her. Maybe he was already back to his old ways. And why not? She was already back at hers. Tipping back the last of her diet pop, she set the empty can next to the half-eaten bowl of cookie dough. Like Cinderella at midnight, her fairytale with Jake was over. Time to get back to real life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Jake arrived home from his game with Sam, expecting a warm woman and possibly an afternoon in bed. What he got instead was a spoonful of you-fucked-up. The place was empty, and there was a note on the kitchen table, topped by the keys he’d lent Hannah.
I remember everything. I got a ride home. Lucky’s in the laundry room. Thanks for the hospitality. —Hannah
Shit. The jig was up. He mentally kicked himself for not telling her the other day when he’d planned to. Or any other day since. Of course, she would have only left sooner, but at least he would have come clean before she remembered it and realized he lied to her. He couldn’t even talk himself into saying it was a lie of omission anymore. She’d asked him point blank, and he’d said he didn’t know. That was just a lie, plain and simple. Now he would reap the consequences of not being honest with her. He just hoped he’d have a shot at explaining himself. In person.
Judging by the curt note, no goodbye, and her finding her own way home, he figured she was pissed. He knew she would be, but now what? He called twice, but both calls went straight to voicemail and he just hung up. On to Plan B—he’d clean up and go over to her apartment. Just show up and throw himself at her mercy.
Another thought struck him—if she remembered everything, did she know who tried to kill her? Was she still in danger? He picked up the phone and called again, this time leaving a message.
“Hey, Hannah. It seems like you might be upset with me. I do want to talk about that, but I also want to make sure you’re safe. If you remember who pushed you, be sure to call the detectives, and tell your apartment management. If you need me, just call. I, um, I miss you,” he ended lamely.
