Page 42 of The Other Side of Wild
Her gaze meets Mr. Wilders’, then to his protective arm wrapped around my shoulder. The face that had paled when she saw Amy contorted into one that is so tight and pulled together I’m concerned she’ll get a migraine. “When she breaks his heart, and he comes back to me, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”
Amy steps into her, and Tatum steps up beside her, putting a bit of space between her and Kara. She is ‘don’t poke the mama bear’ personified in the moment. “You don’t get to talk about my son when he isn’t here to refute the asinine claims you’re throwing around like confetti. And you certainly don’t get to talk down tomyfuture daughter-in-law.” My jaw drops as my stomach warms. Is this what it’s like to have someone stand up for you? Wait, did she just call me her future daughter-in-law?
Staying true to her temper tantrum, the holy terror turns and stomps off, arms pumping at her sides. I look to the left and meet the eyes of half the Hawks team. “Hey guys.”
“Who the heck was that, and how do we unsubscribe from that brand of crazy?” Andrews asks, his brows furrowed as he watches the retreating back of the delusional woman.
“Kara, Greyson’s ex. And according to her, his future wife.” I respond, a knife twisting in my gut a bit. I don’t have time to figure out why that hurts so bad because Tatum scoffs from somewhere behind me.
“It’s okay, Hannah. Thank you for standing up for my boy when he couldn’t.” Amy’s voice is so soft I almost miss it. I give her a nod and a soft smile. I’m starting to feel like a cornered animal. I need space.
Over Amy’s shoulder, I spot Abby with tears in her eyes; Cade is wrapped tightly in her arms. His head is tucked under her chin and turned away so he isn’t facing us. I excuse myself, heading to the bathroom to clean up before having to close this thing down for the night. I can’t let myself cry anymore; there are kids here. This is about them, not about me.
Noting there’s blood dripping from the bright red line across my face, I run my hand along its length. With a sigh, I pull out a paper towel from the dispenser and wet it before wiping off the trail of blood. I shouldn’t have listened to my traitorous heart. I was doing fine; I had no problems. I kept to myself, and I worked my butt off. I was empty and unfulfilled, but I wasn’t hurting.
Yet here I am, feeling defeated and embarrassed like thirteen-year-old Hannah, who had all her clothes thrown out on the front lawn because I dared to say I had nothing to wear to a school dance. My hands find the sink, my head dropping forward as I let a few tears fall. They sting as they slide over the fresh cut.
The little girl in me is rioting; we promised her we wouldn’t let ourselves feel like this ever again. We wouldn’t let ourselves be made to feel small or disposable ever again. My heart is heavy; every defense I’ve worked so hard to build crumbles because I was naive enough to let someone in.
Stupid. You’re so stupid, Hannah.I let myself believe, even for a second, that I was worthy enough that it would be different this time. Yet I stand here, alone, bleeding because of a ghost from his past. Do I blame him? No, it’s on me. I should have known better. Ididknow better, and I gave into hope anyway.
I press my palms harder into the sink, trying to stop the spiral. The ache in my chest grows sharper; my eyes snap shut as I beg the voice in my head to go away. The one that saysyou’re the common denominator here, Hannah. Maybe it’s time you realized you deserve the pain; you are the problem.
I wipe at my face, flinging the tears off of me. Hoping to erase them like the stupid bits of hope I let myself feel. My reflection mocks me in the mirror, tired, defeated. I don’t have time to pick myself apart any further because the bathroom door flies open.
Dylan and Caroline barrel in like twin hurricanes. “Hannah Banana, what the heck happened?” Dylan narrows her eyes as her hand goes to the cut on the side of my face. She gently turns my head so they can get a good look at it, her jaw clenching tight enough to crack as she inspects it further.
“I need names, and I need them now. I’ve got an entire defensive line I can recruit to handle this.” Caroline, sweet Caroline. The protective edge in her voice chips at the bit of emptiness I felt moments before. I’d laugh, but I truly don’t have it in me. It’s taking everything in me not to leave right this second.
“I’m fine, just a woman staking her claim.” My voice doesn’t sound like mine. It’s deeper, raspy.
“On who?!” Dylan asks as she takes a paper towel and wets it before holding it to my face. I hiss at the sting. “Sorry, I don’t have ice, but it looks like it's swelling a bit.”
“Greyson and I have been spending time together. He played a big role in helping me plan this whole thing.” Twirling my finger around in a circle indicating what I meant, Caroline’s eyes light up while Dylan smirks.
“I ship it,” Dylan says with absolute confidence. I grab another paper towel, swiping it at the running makeup; I try to make myself look semi-presentable for the rest of the night.
I hum, “Let’s go back out there; we havea carnival to wrap up.” They nod, linking their arms through mine as we walk out of the bathroom as a unit. When the door opens, we’re met with the backs of four hockey players. They really do have nice butts.
Clearing my throat, Samuels looks over his shoulder at us. “Whatcha doing?” I ask in the sweetest voice I can muster up.
“We’re your bodyguards, obviously.” He rolls his eyes at me like I should know that. They all turn around and give me their lethal smiles. I shake my head, releasing my hold on my co-workers. I link my arms through Reed and Samuel’s. Wilson and Monroe bring up the back. I’m sure it looks funny to anyone else, but I can’t find it in myself to care about anyone else right now. These four came to find me to make sure I was okay, safe, and protected. They’re like the big, overprotective brothers I’ve always wanted. I find myself smiling for the first time since this whole ordeal started.
I’m closing the doors on the Tampa Today truck when a couple stops to talk to me. They’re speaking to me, but I’m not really listening to understand any of it. “What do you think?” I blink twice, trying to recall a single thing they said. “I know it’s been a long night, but you did such a great job with this event. We’d love to have you on our staff helping to plan our charity’s events.”
Wait, what? I feel like my eyes bugged out of my head, which they must have because they both laugh. “Here’s my card; call me if you’d like to talk more about it.” The lady who I nowknow is Madeline Boswell, based on her card.
“Thank you, that means a lot. I’m glad you had a good time; thank you for coming.” They give me matching smiles before they head out.
I stick the card in my back pocket, having zero intentions to contact them. I like my job. Did I enjoy planning this event? Yeah, way more than I thought I would. It was another way to let my creative side run wild. It also felt like I had found my purpose, it fulfilled me in a way that being a journalist doesn’t. But to give it up? I don’t think I could do it. Maybe I should, though. Does everyone think I picked this job to try and snag an athlete? Is that how they see me?
I blow out a breath and get in my car. Closing my eyes and resting my head on the headrest, I try my hardest to breathe through the events of the night. But I can’t. My head falls forward until it’s on top of my arms, which are resting on the steering wheel, and I let it all out. The body-wracking sobs, the screams I’ve been holding in, now flowing out. Freaking A, I hate being out of control.
Pulling out my phone, I reach for the lifeline I swore I wouldn’t.
Hannah: I missed you tonight. I hope you’re doing okay.
Chapter 23 – Greyson