Page 47 of The Other Side of Wild
He hesitates for a moment, rubbing his handacross his beard before answering. “Well... You now know the part where Kara showed up. But then spewed a bunch of crap about being the future Mrs. Wilder and how Hannah was just a placeholder. Hannah held her ground though, it was awesome.” He clears his throat before looking down at the floor. “And then Kara backhanded her hard enough it cut her cheek open”
The weight of his words settles like Wile E. Coyote just dropped an anvil on the Roadrunner. My stomach churns violently. Someone laid their hands onmyKitten? My ex laid her hands onmyfuture? The woman who means everything to me? I think the frick not. I start to grab my keys to my car when my feet freeze on their own accord at the thought that passes through my mind.
She probably thinks I strung her along. I ignored her when she reached out for me. I pushed her away when all she wanted was to make sure I was okay. Then Kara shows up out of nowhere, probably confirming every fear she had.
Son of a nutcracker! I acted just like her father. No wonder she walked, no ran away. I can’t even blame her this time; I would have done the same thing.
“Fine,” I manage, my voice heavy with emotion. “But you have to apologize to her too.”
He nods his agreement. “I will.”
We stare at each other for a moment, the weight of the situation hangs like a heavy cloud. My thoughts are a whirlwind of guilt, regret, and a desperation to make things right.
I swallow hard, I’ve hurt her. She faced my demons formeand I didn’t even know it. I left her alone. I’ll be damned if I don’t do everything I can to fix it.
Chapter 26 – Hannah
It’s Monday morning, and I’m sitting on the porch swing with a cold brew and a raunchy romance novel. I sent my boss an email asking if I could take this week as PTO and come back next week; she approved, stating I earned it, and she couldn’t wait to debrief when I got back. I also got an email that she officially gave me the recommendation. I should be stoked, but instead, I just find myself questioning my life decisions.
That was the main reason I came home in the first place; I wanted to get to the root of myself again. Who is Hannah Lowery outside of work? Who was Hannah before the world told her who she was? Was she fun? Did she dream of being a sports journalist with no social life? Because I’m pretty sure, like every young girl, I dreamed of finding the love of my life and having six kids and, of course, lots of dogs. Can’t have any of those things when I’m married to my job, though, can I?
“Fancy meeting you here.” My book goes flying as I yelp at Monroe’s deep voice. Turning to look over my shoulder, I come face to face with Reed, Monroe, Wilson, Andrews, and, Abby! She elbows her way through the formation the guys had created and crashes into me with such force the swing smacks the house.
I’m so surprised that I fall into a fit of giggles, mainly because if I don’t, I’ll cry. “Well, what a surprise!” I wipe the stray tears from under my eyes as I look at them.
“Abby called an emergency meeting. Something about you trying to leave us. She needed manpower.” I snort; of course, she did. We get up and walk towards the guys that are leaning against the wrap-around porch.
Reed doesn’t waste a full second after I’m off the swing to wrap me up in a hug. “Uhh. What’s happening?”
“Shh, just accept my affection. Don’t fight it anymore. It’s always been you, Hannah.” These guys have taken me into their group of friends like I was always meant to be part of it. Like I’m worthy of being there. I was never a second thought to them; I simply got adopted by a group of rowdy men.
“Let go of me, you caveman.” My eyes meet Abby’s over his shoulder; they’re glistening. I give her a smile that I hope conveys how happy I am that she’s here. I’m thankful for her and her unwavering loyalty over the years.
I bring them upstairs to where I’ve been staying. This house has a mother-in-law suite on top of the regular house. It's got its own separate entrance and full kitchen. The floor plan is open, with two bedrooms and bathrooms. The sliding glass doors to the balcony that push completely to the side are the perfect addition to its openness. Being able to leave them open and let the crisp November air in is something you don’t get to do in Florida.
Leading my friends out to the balcony, there are a few “oohs” and “ahhs” as they look out at the tree line. I forget just how much foliage we lack in the Sunshine State. Well, in Tampa, at least. “Are you okay? We were worried about you.” Wilson turns to face me, his arms crossing his chest.
“Greyson’s your teammate; shouldn’t you be worried about him?” His huge body is now directly in front of me; he takes my hand, my eyes snagging on where we’re connected. It’s not the same warm and fuzzy feeling I get when Greyson grabs my hand. No, this is soft, a sweet, brotherly feeling. One I would love to have back in Tampa in the absence of my own brother. He waits patiently for me to meet his eyes.
“There is no you vs. Greyson in this situation. You are part of the family just as much as he is.” I crumble, falling into his chest. My entire life, all I ever wanted was to feel like I had a place where I belonged. I wanted a family, people who chose to be around me because they care about me. Abby was the first piece of that puzzle; the past few years of her working with the Hawks have brought some of these guys into our fold here and there.
But this year, when I was with them multiple times a week for months, they became my friends. Abby was right when she said the team makes everyone feel like family. They treat the janitors with the same respect they treat their coaches. I figured they’d be more concerned with Grey; no one ever picks me. They don’t actively seek me out, until now.
I only pull away when my phone starts vibrating in my back pocket. I look down at the screen and see it's Amy. “You should answer that.” He points down at my phone. I nod and walk into the house.
“Hi, Amy.” The only sound I hear from her end is a sharp inhale. “Amy? Are you there?”
“I am. I’m sorry I just wasn’t expecting you to answer; I’m so glad you did.” The silence that follows is loud. She clears her throat and asks the one question I don’t want to answer. “Are you okay?”
How do you tell the mother of the man you were falling for that you’re so far from okay that you feel numb? How do you tell her that her son solidified the things my father has said to me over the years? How do I tell her I don’t know who I am anymore? And not just because of what was said, but becauseit opened up my eyes to all the things I've let slide, all the things I’ve allowed to shape me. And now that you’ve taken a step back, you don’t recognize yourself.
“I’m fine, Amy. I just need some time to get my thoughts in order.”
“I understand. He didn’t mean it. He’s not in a good head space at the moment, and I pushed him a bit too hard.” That does it. If there’s anything I’ve learned growing up in the mental circus I did, it’s that you don’t make excuses for anyone else.
––––––––
“He’s a strong guy, and he’s got such wonderful support. But please don’t make excuses for him, he’s responsible for his actions. Not you. The best thing you can do for him is love him through it. But you already know that.” A sad chuckle sounds over the line, and I have the strongest urge to hug her.