think the worst. Today, it made her think that she’d pushed him away like an absolute donkey and now she needed to make him feel better.
Hannah wasn’t the only one who deserved reassurance, after all.
But before she could speak, he beat her to the punch. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” she echoed, finally allowing herself to study his face. That full lower lip was snagged between his teeth, a frown furrowing his dark brows. His jaw was tight, his gaze shadowed—and, yeah, apologetic. She just had no idea why. “What do you have to be sorry for?”
He ran a hand through his hair and the familiar motion squeezed at something tender in her chest. “A lot,” he said. “Like… fucking around, dragging you outside when we have a house full of people. I know I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”
Hannah shook her head. “Nate, I asked you to kiss me.”
“And I should’ve said no. Because I knew you weren’t okay.” He sighed. “I shouldn’t have done any of the shit I did tonight. I’ve been chasing you hard, the last few days, because I thought I was losing you. And in case I haven’t made it obvious, I don’t want to lose you.” His eyes, darker in the low light, pinned hers. “Ever.”
His voice had been so steady, but it cracked on that last word. Her heart cracked a little bit, too. She couldn’t sit here like they were strangers when it was starting to sink in that she’d… hurt him. She’d actually hurt him.
This, she decided, was the worst feeling in the world. Not disappointment, not losing, not weakness, or any of the shit she’d always cared about so much. Hurting Nate. That was rock-bottom.
Ignoring the tiny pieces of gravel that dug through the fabric of her skirt, Hannah shuffled over the pavement and climbed awkwardly into his lap. The minute his arms settled around her, the slow, ominous tick of that clock in her head finally stopped. And nothing happened. No bomb was detonated, nobody died or changed their mind or threw her away. She pressed a hand to his cheek and watched his eyes slide shut, as if her touch soothed him the way his presence soothed her. Then she began.
“I haven’t been honest with you.” The way he stiffened at those words, as if expecting a blow, filled her with shame. He was wary. She’d made him wary. “You were right. I wasn’t okay. I’ve been so anxious lately—way more than usual. I should probably see my doctor again; I haven’t been in a while. But…” she shook her head. “It’s not just that. I mean, that didn’t come out of nowhere. I’ve been so scared, Nate, because I realised that I love you. And I’ve never seen any evidence that loving someone can work out for me. I think the circumstances and… and keeping it a secret, that just made it worse, because it feels so fragile between us. Like smoke.”
The words came out so easily, now, when they’d seemed impossible to reach just yesterday. Maybe it was because she felt more like herself after talking to someone. After crying with someone. After confessing. Hannah had never been good with secrets—not big secrets, not suffocating, emotional secrets. Setting all those words free felt like setting herself free too. When she looked up to check Nate’s expression, she was slightly hesitant, but she wasn’t choked by some nameless, fearsome dread.
And even her hesitation disappeared when she saw the huge, dopey grin on his face. “What?” she asked, an answering smile spreading her lips without permission.
He shook his head. “Nothing, nothing. Keep going.”
Hannah tapped a finger against his dimple. “I think I’m done, actually. So what’s this about?”
“You…” He laughed, the sound a little flash of joy. “Did you just say you love me?”
Something warm and sweet started to glow in her chest. “Yeah. I did. Because, you know, I do.”
His arms tightened around her. He kissed her cheek, and then her eyebrow, of all places. Then the side of her nose, her chin… Actually, he was just kissing her face indiscriminately. Hannah supposed she should stop him—it was undignified—but she was quite enjoying it.
He kissed her ear next, then whispered, “I love you, too.”
The warmth in her chest gained the strength of a sunrise. “You do?”
“Of course I do.” He ran his hands over her as if he just wanted to feel that she was there. Her sides, her arms, her thigh—whatever he could reach, he