Saving Hannah

by Saving Hannah (epub)

  “Come on,” he said, keeping his voice light. “It’s eleven o’clock and you’ve been here all day. Sit down, have a drink and relax. When the rain lets up, I’ll take you home, but I can’t do it now. My bike desperately needs new tires.”

  Her hand still perched on the doorknob, she looked from the counter to him and then back at the street.

  “Look, I won’t bite. I promise,” he said, turning his attention back to loading the napkin holder. “December is right around the corner—if you try to go out in that storm right now; you’ll get pneumonia or something.”

  Tapping her foot restlessly, she kept looking out the window as she muttered, “I’ll only get hurt if I don’t get home.”

  Caine glanced up from his job and leaned his hands on the counter in curiosity. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  With a sigh, she mumbled, “Nothing.”

  Right, like he was going to buy that one. “Hannah...is there something going on?”

  “Yes.” In defeat, she turned to face him. She walked over to the counter and slid onto a stool, holding eye contact with him, as if silently adding a cocky “What are you going to do about it?”

  “But you don’t want to tell me what?”

  “No.”

  Caine raised his eyebrows at her blunt response. At least she’s being honest.

  Grabbing two mugs from the counter, he turned and opened the freezer. He pulled out a carton of ice cream and dropped a scoop in each one, calling over his shoulder, “Root beer, Pepsi or Coke?”

  “Um...Pepsi.”

  He poured Pepsi over the ice-cream for her and Mountain Dew for him and then placed the glasses on the counter. “Now, this is a special Pepsi float,” he said, keeping his voice light in hopes of cheering her up. He slid the glass of Pepsi and vanilla ice-cream over to her. “It’s guaranteed to solve whatever problem you’re having.”

  “Is that so?” She laughed, reaching over the counter to grab a spoon.

  Nodding, he scooped a mouthful of ice-cream and Mountain Dew into his mouth. “It’s a gift I have.”

  She smirked, taking a small sip of her float off the spoon. Keeping her gaze downcast, she peered into the ice-cream beverage, or at the napkin holder, or the storm outside, anywhere but at him.

  He let the silence linger, just grateful to have her being nice to him for more than a minute at a time.

  Leaning back on the stool, she stretched her back with a sigh and pulled her hair from the low ponytail, letting the red and purple streaks against the black backdrop flow freely around her shoulders.

  “I like the new look, by the way,” he said.

  She laughed a little in surprise. “You do?”

  He nodded, taking a slurp off the spoon. “A lot less preppy-princess and much more self-expression. It’s cool.”

  “Self-expression?” She shook her head and leaned forward, her voice teasing. “Tell me, Dr. McKay, what does my hair say about me?”

  He moved to get a different view of her hair, pretending to be an expert in hair-ology. “Well...red usually stands for anger, and purple means royalty. So I’d say...you’re royally pissed.”

  She giggled, and he laughed, happy to have made her smile. He’d spent too many times making her cry.

  Glancing up at him, she pointed at his float with her spoon. “You and the Mountain Dew. Do you drink anything else?”

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “It’s a sin.”

  She giggled. “Is it good? With the ice-cream, I mean.”

  “Yep.” He glanced down at the drink and then back up at her, his gaze lingering on her lips. “You want to try it?”

  Cutting her gaze to meet his, she hesitated, the silence speaking volumes. “Sure.”

  He scooped up a small spoonful of Mountain Dew and ice-cream, lifting the spoon in the air and offering it half-way across the counter. Watching her lean forward and close her mouth around the spoon, he wondered why the hell he thought this would be a good idea.

  Leaning back in her seat, she covered her mouth as she gagged. “That’s disgusting.”

  He laughed in surprise, glad her wrinkled nose and disgusted gag broke the trance she’d put him in. “You think so?”

  She nodded, reaching for her Pepsi. “It tastes like pure syrup.”

  “Nah,” he winked, taking a big slurp of the ‘syrup’. “I’m just tougher than you.”

  Swallowing a swig of pop, she set her glass on the counter and slid her gaze to his. “Always have been.”

  “True,” he said, considering what she said. “But then again, you have more heart than I ever will.”

  She smiled bitterly, keeping her gaze down. “That girl you knew last year...she sounds like she was pretty great.”

  He nodded, leaning his elbows on the counter. “Still is.”

  Meeting his gaze finally, she gave him a faint smile. As her smile faded she kept her gaze on his, as if she wanted to say something. “So...you said you have your...abilities under control, now?”

  “You can call him what he is—a monster, or my alter-ego, or sometimes I call him Fred.” She giggled a little at his joke, but he could tell she was genuinely curious, so he decided to tell her more. “And yes, he’s under control. I chained him in the deepest recesses of my mind.”

  “How do you do it?” she asked as she spooned the last of her float into her mouth.

  “Anger management techniques helped—counting to ten and taking slow breaths and all that. Meditation helps the most.”

  “Meditation?” Hannah asked, looking surprised. “Have you gone all Zen now?”

  He laughed, shaking his head. “No...it just helps to sit and...relax and kind of...cleanse your spirit.”

  She raised an eyebrow and he tossed a wadded up napkin at her. “Don’t make fun,” he said. “It works.”

  “I’m glad,” she said. “I’m glad you’ve finally found peace.” Locking his gaze, she looked as though she wanted to speak again. Finally, she leaned forward, her voice soft. “Look...I need to know that you’re not going to tell anyone what you saw earlier.”

  “What did I see?” He asked, challenging her, telling her he hadn’t forgotten and he wasn’t about to let it drop.

  “Caine, I told you...”

  “You didn’t tell me anything,” he corrected. “You implied that you burned yourself to relieve depression. I’m sorry—I don’t buy it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re right handed,” he said. “And those are on the back of your right arm, lined up perfectly with each other. I’d say that’d be pretty hard to accomplish on your own.”

  Her cheeks flushed, but he didn’t know if it was in anger or embarrassment. “Look...it’s not what you think. It’s not like I’m being abused or something—”

  “I’d hate to see what you call abuse, then.” Taking a drink of Mountain Dew, he held eye contact with her over the rim of the glass, hoping to show her he wasn’t about to let her make light of what he’d seen. That Max guy gave him the creeps, and he knew Max was involved with whatever was making Hannah so secretive, and he wasn’t about to stand by and watch someone hurt her.

  “Why do you have to be like this?” Exasperated, she pushed her stool back and stood up. “Here I am...trying to have a nice conversation with you, and you go and make it all serious.”

  “Wait, Hannah.” Hurrying around the counter, he caught her right as she came to the door. Gently taking her wrist, he turned her to face him. “If you’re going to leave, at least let me tell you one thing.”

  Her eyebrow arched in curiosity and it reminded him of the times she’d tutored him and he’d asked her a tough question. Cupping her face in his hands, he closed his mouth over hers in a passionate, hungry kiss that brought back a flood of memories that communicated everything his words couldn’t.

  I shouldn’t have kissed her, he thought as she pulled back and stared speechless at him. Now there’s no way I can go back to not kissing her.

  “Yo
u shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered without bothering to pull out of his arms.

  “I know,” he said, trying to brand his mind with this moment, the feel of his arms wrapped tight around her.

  “Caine,” she whispered her voice low like she might cry. Instead of speaking, she kissed him again, pressing her lips against his and caving into him in a way that felt like a message, like she was trying to tell him something. But what?

  A loud knock at the door interrupted them, and pulling reluctantly away, he saw Max on the other side of the glass, staring at them with that superior, almost demanding look he always wore. Max, he remembered, Hannah’s boyfriend—déjà vu.

  Turning to Hannah, Caine said, “I can’t do this again.” He reached over and unlocked the door before walking away. “I’m not going to share you with him.”

  Max walked into the diner and—to Caine’s surprise—didn’t have fists swinging.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Max said, keeping his gaze on Caine, but speaking to Hannah. “Something came up.”

  “It’s okay,” Caine said, leaning on the counter. “We managed.”

  Jealousy flooded Max’s dark features, but as quickly as it’d appeared, it vanished and he turned back to Hannah.

  Glancing at Hannah, Caine noticed she hadn’t moved a muscle since he’d walked away from her. Her face was pale and her skin looked damp, oily and pasty as she stared straight ahead like she was going to be sick.

  “Hannah?” he asked.

  She swayed on her feet, bringing her palm to her forehead as her eyes rolled back. Seeing her start to fall, Caine leapt over the counter and landed effortlessly next to her, jutting out his arms to keep her from slamming into the tiled floor.

  “Hannah!” Her body was limp in his arms and her eyes were closed. Panicking, he pressed his hand against her forehead, his fear rising at her high fever. Pressing his fingers against her throat, he tried to check her pulse, but Max pushed his hand away.

  “She’s fine—this happens sometimes.” He reached out, trying to gather Hannah in his arms.

  His anger boiling over, Caine used his free hand to shove Max back. “What do you mean this happens sometimes? And what are you doing just sitting there? Go call an ambulance!”

  “Trust me; you don’t want to do that.”

  Caine glared at him, reluctantly leaving Hannah’s side to call an ambulance. “God, she sure knows how to pick ‘em,” he muttered.

  Picking up the phone, he hit the ‘talk’ button only to realize that the storm had knocked the phone line out. He couldn’t call an ambulance.

  Glancing up from the dead phone, Caine saw Max, with Hannah cradled in his arms, headed for the door. “Dude,” he called, his loud, demanding voice prompting Max to stop. Caine quickly crossed the space between them. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Looking annoyed and angry, Max glared at him. “You need to back off.”

  Caine laughed loudly, right in Max’s face. “She’s passed out—I’m not letting you leave with her.”

  Max raised his eyebrows. “You’re not letting me?”

  “That’s right.”

  In the blink of an eye, Max’s hand lurched out and grabbed Caine’s shirt, hurling him to the opposite side of the room, while somehow managing to still support Hannah’s weight. The diner blurred around him as Caine slammed into the wall near the ceiling and crashed onto a table below. The table cracked on impact and he landed, dizzy and stunned, on a pile of broken wood and metal.

  What the hell? he thought as pain coursed through his body. In all the times he’d been jumped in jail, the beatings had never hurt so badly. Now, he felt as if every bone in his body was broken.

  Trying to find his bearings, Caine stumbled to his feet in time to see Max carry Hannah out the door.

  Muttering under his breath, Caine rushed after him, but Max moved fast and was already in the car, pulling down the street. Keeping his eyes on Max’s car as it disappeared down the road; Caine ran to his motorcycle and climbed on.

  Revving his engine, he turned where the Mustang had gone only to see it take another quick left. Flooding the gas, Caine chased him as far as he could, but by the time he reached the turn, Hannah and Max were out of sight.

  Chapter Three—Vanished

  Caine was on pins and needles all night and the next morning, while he waited to see Hannah again. The feeling that she was in danger lurked in his mind constantly—he couldn’t shake it no matter how hard he tried.

  How did Max sling me across the room? Why did Hannah pass out? What did he mean by this ‘happens sometimes’? What had Hannah gotten herself into?

  Going through the motions, he tried not to worry as he went through the dining room and pulled all of the chairs off their tables, arranging them the right way, glancing out the window every other second to see if Hannah was approaching.

  “She’s not coming in today,” a cheery voice said from behind him.

  Turning, he saw Mia behind the counter, loading packages of sugar into a tray. “Who?” Caine asked, placing the last chair on the floor as he walked toward the door to flip the sign from closed to open.

  “You know who,” Mia said. “Hannah. Anybody can see you’ve got the hots for her.”

  Caine shrugged as he unlocked the door. “We have complicated history.”

  “I can tell.” Smiling at him as he walked toward the kitchen, she leaned her elbows on the counter. “Anyway, she’s not coming in. She called a few minutes ago and said something came up.”

  Caine paused, knowing he should walk away and not probe the subject, but he couldn’t help it. “What kind of something?”

  Mia shrugged. “I dunno. We’re lucky she called at all. Normally she just pulls a no-show and then begs to keep her job.”

  “She skips out a lot, huh?”

  “Yep.” Raising an eyebrow at him, she teased, “You ever thought about bein’ a cop? You’ve got a way of turning things around like a cop would do.”

  He laughed—it was definitely a new comparison, with the most common being monster or delinquent. “I think the jail sentence pretty much knocks me out of that one.”

  “Who knows?” She said with a shrug as she leaned over the counter further, as if she wanted to keep him from leaving. “Maybe you could be a private investigator and dig up people’s dirty little secrets.”

  Shaking his head, he started back toward the kitchen, but something made him stop. Turning back to face Mia, he said, “You’re sure it was Hannah who called? Not Max?”

  “It was Hannah—took the call myself.” Her gaze lingered on his before she leaned forward a little more. “You’ve noticed it too? Their creepy co-dependent relationship?”

  Okay, he was hooked. Walking toward Mia, he slid onto a stool across from her. “Yeah. He’s weird, huh?”

  “She’s weird,” Mia said, wrinkling her nose. “Always keeping an eye out in case he decides to show up, and running right to his side—and usually out the door—whenever he does.”

  “She didn’t used to be that way,” he said defensively. “It’s not really her.”

  Mia shrugged indifferently. “All I know is he’s got her whipped.”

  “Have you ever seen anything...strange about them? Have you ever seen him lose his temper?”

  She shook her head, leaning her elbows on the counter and bringing her face close to his. “I don’t think he’d hit her if that’s what you’re worried about. I just think he’s possessive and she’s a little too needy.”

  ***

  “Dad, I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  “You said yourself she’s pulled no-shows before, and she even called in this time.” His dad sat on the couch, watching as Caine paced across the living room of the small apartment.

  “I know, but you didn’t see what happened the night before.” Raking a hand through his hair, he turned to walk back toward the kitchen. “Max hurled me across the room like I was a stuffed animal and then carried Hannah—who�
��d passed out—across the street in the blink of an eye. It was...unnatural.”

  “So, maybe he’s really strong—or maybe he’s not your average human—but still, the girl said she spoke to Hannah herself, right? And that everything sounded okay?”

  Caine sank into a chair and rested his head in his hands. “And I still can’t shake the feeling that something bad happened to her. It’s not just this...it’s the marks I saw on her arm, and the way she clings to that Max guy...”

  “Are you sure that’s not what this is about?” Leaning forward, Michael caught Caine’s gaze. “Are you jealous because she’s living with him?”

  Jealous? He passed jealous a long time ago—now he was sick with envy and heartache, thinking of every moment Hannah and Max spent alone in the house they shared. “Of course I’m jealous. This is the girl who taught me to listen to my conscious—the girl who taught me to have faith. Her life was damn near perfect until I came along...and now she has needle marks on her arms and strange scars and a boyfriend who’s super strong and possessive. She wouldn’t tell me anything, and now I don’t even know how to find her.”

  “Have you tried looking in the phone book?” Michael asked.

  Caine glanced up, feeling as though he’d had a blond moment.

  Stifling a laugh, his dad reached out and grabbed a phone book off the table. “McKennon, right?” he asked, flipping through the pages. “Aha. There you go.”

  He handed the phone book over and Caine searched through the listings until he found Hannah’s name and address. That easy, he thought with an embarrassed chuckle. “I’m going to head over there.”

  “Wait, just hold on a second.”

  Caine paused at the door.

  “I don’t want you getting yourself in trouble over this Max kid.” Michael’s face set into his stern expression. “You just got outta the slammer. No reason to go throwing yourself back in, right?”

  “Dad, I promise, nothing like that’s going to happen.” Caine pulled open the door. “I just need to know that Hannah’s okay. I’m not going to get in trouble.”

  “Because you know how to walk away from trouble now, right?”