“I’ve never seen you this angry.” Steve wouldn’t leave him alone.
He took another solid swing. Then, that suddenly, all the fight drained out of him. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and glared over at Steve. “Seriously. Go away.”
If the guy grinned, he was going to shove him.
“You’re the talk of the town.”
Griff’s mood darkened. He knew that. Thanks to Hannah spilling his secret. She’d done so with a fucking smile. He was mad on so many levels. She’d found out and never breathed a word until they were out in public where she could take in the applause. She’d lied to his face about the letters.
“I don’t care.”
Steve shrugged. “The town is split. Some of them want you and Hannah to make up and some consider the relationship good and done. They all agree you’re an ass.”
Griff glared. “I never claimed not to be.”
“Yeah, but the problem is I’ve been hanging out with you for a while. It’s kind of hard to hide when you’re a nice guy. I hate it say it, but I think you’re less of an ass than you think you are.”
Now the man was insulting him. On his own land. “I’ll smack you around. Then you’ll know for sure.”
Steve laughed. “I don’t understand why you left, but I’m here to talk.”
Steve’s small-town personality wasn’t funny this time. “I don’t sit around and talk about this stuff.”
“It’s called having a friend.”
Griff was too irritated to dispute the self-assigned title. “There’s nothing to say.”
“She asked you to come up to the stage, and...?”
“She revealed my secrets to the whole town. Emphasis on the MY. She somehow went behind my back and found out this information and lied about those stupid donor letters.”
“I don’t know what letters you’re talking about.”
That was something. At least Hannah hadn’t published them in the town newspaper. “Forget it. Doesn’t matter.”
“Of course this matters, or you wouldn’t be upset about it.”
Probably true. It didn’t make dealing with this any easier. “Go away if you’re going to be reasonable and make sense. Hannah betrayed me.”
“Betrayal is a harsh word, but I won’t argue with your feelings. Hannah is a great person, but like everyone she has some quirks.”
Those words actually made him want to smile. He was still too pissed. “She didn’t even tell me she knew or talk to me about it. She just told the whole town.”
“That’s bad why?”
“I didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Why?”
“Hard to explain.”
“Then Hannah doesn’t know why you’re angry.”
His temper simmered. No, Hannah wouldn’t have known why what she’d done had shaken him so much. “She wouldn’t have told them if she’d known my reasoning.”
“No shit.” Steve’s amusement dried up. “Whatever you’re going through, talk to her about it. If you care about her.”
“Of course I care.” He’d been thinking about proposing to her over Christmas. It was probably too soon, but he’d been sure of his choice. She would like the holiday proposal shit.
“How are those intentions coming?”
Hell. “How do I know she isn’t with me for the donations?”
“Because she started dating you before she knew?”
“Did she? She lied to me.” Not that he hadn’t done the same to her once.
“She tried to surprise you.”
Steve’s words threw Griff off his steamroll. “What?”
“She tried to surprise you,” Steve repeated. “She wanted everyone to know how amazing she thinks you are. That’s why she did it.”
Huh. That might actually have some merit. “It doesn’t change that she was deceitful about it.”
“There’s always deceit in a surprise. What matters is if it hurts anyone or not.”
He was feeling hurt. For the first time, he considered she might have actually had good intentions, no matter how misguided they might be. But if she knew and loved him, shouldn’t she have realized that? “It’s like she doesn’t know me.”
“Knowing each other takes time.”
Yeah, he and Hannah had already had that conversation. This was more complicated than a conversation. “I don’t know.”
“It’s obvious you have some things to work out. I’ll see you later. But, man, go easy on her. She and her sisters have been through a lot. They have good hearts. She was trying to do something nice for you.”
He didn’t even say goodbye as Steve walked off. That was the thing. Could he trust her? Her deceit in the surprise had caused harm, whatever that meant. If she’d only chosen him because of his giving, he couldn’t handle a scenario so reminiscent of his past. He couldn’t trust himself to know if Hannah was right for him.
Before this happened, he’d been ready to get serious. This proved they were moving too fast, and he hadn’t stopped to consider he might not really know her at all. In a two-year courtship, his mother had hidden a lot from his father. How much had Hannah hidden from him?
Chapter Eight
This was the worst holiday season ever. A week later, Hannah stared out her living room window and glared at the snow. Tomorrow was Christmas, but she hadn’t even gone to the store to get groceries for their big dinner. She didn’t feel like celebrating.
She always felt like celebrating. But Griff still hadn’t tried to contact her, and it only drove home how completely and horribly she’d screwed up. She was miserable, dwelling on her mistakes. She needed to explain to him what happened, but she didn’t deserve to make excuses for herself.
“There’s no huge turkey in the fridge.” Janey’s horrified voice drifted through the room.
Hannah didn’t even bother glancing up. Instead, she sighed. How was she going to move on with her life without a grumpy tree farmer who cared about the environment and provided holiday cheer for children? He challenged her in all the right ways, and her body missed the feel of his rough but sweet touch.
They’d only been together weeks, but it felt like a lot longer. There’d been a lot of months before that when Hannah had almost been preparing. She’d learned everything she could about his usual habits, but she hadn’t learned enough.
“It’s late. The store isn’t even open anymore.” Janey obviously wasn’t going to give up.
“I’m not making dinner tomorrow. I’m not celebrating this year.”
All of a sudden a flurry of motion overtook her peripheral vision.
“Cate! Help!” Janey shouted, as she shoved Hannah down on the couch to make her lean back. Janey’s hands assaulted her forehead.
Hannah tried to shove her off.
Cate burst into the room. “What is it?”
“Hannah’s sick. It’s probably something fatal.”
“I’m fine,” Hannah protested. Janey was totally overreacting.
“Oh God. What’s wrong?” Cate moved over too, to press her palm against her forehead.
“She said she’s not celebrating Christmas.” Genuine terror echoed through Janey’s words.
“Hell. We should take her to the ER in the city.”
“What the—” Hannah tried to push them away.
“You grab the keys.” Janey’s lips pressed together.
Hannah managed to escape them. “I’m not sick. I’m not dying. I don’t need to go to the hospital. For the love of God.”
Her sisters sat down with more relaxed shoulders. They still watched her as if she might split into pieces.
Suddenly, Janey’s expression softened. “You’re heartbroken.”
Hannah sighed.
“Fine, you get the keys, Janey,” Cate said. “I warned him about the castration if he hurt her.”
“Don’t joke about something so serious,” Hannah said. Would they never listen to her political correctness? It was only basic human kindness not to joke
about castrating people.
“Who’s joking?” Cate demanded, in a tone that kind of terrified her.
“Seriously, never hurt anyone on my account. I’d feel guilty about it forever.” Hannah wanted them to leave her alone. She felt guilty about enough right now.
“That’s true.” Janey nodded. “And so inconvenient.”
Hannah sat up on the couch and stared out the window again. “It’s my fault. I’m the one who revealed his secret. I lied to him when I could have just told him the truth when he caught me with the letters.”
“I don’t get why he’s being so secretive,” Cate said. “It seems like a pretty stupid reason for him to break up with you.”
Hannah found her sister’s gaze and fought back tears. “Do you think he broke up with me then?”
Cate’s expression turned horrified, as though she hadn’t known that hadn’t crossed Hannah’s mind yet.
“Have you talked to him?” Janey asked.
“No, he hasn’t called. And I feel like I let the whole town down.”
“Why do you take so much on yourself?” Cate asked. “The town isn’t your problem.”
“Of course it is,” Hannah said automatically. “Ever since Mom—” She cut herself off when she realized what she was about to say. The tension in the room escalated.
Hannah blinked in shock. Could she be making all the wrong decisions for the wrong reasons? It wasn’t normal or regular for her to feel like everything had to be just right. Maybe she was realizing a perfect Christmas pageant wasn’t going to bring anyone back.
“You’ve felt like you had to be Mom,” Janey said in her most compassionate voice. “We’ve all grieved differently.”
“I guess we didn’t see how much you were drowning.” Cate covered one of Hannah’s hands in support. “You don’t have to take on so much.”
Hannah couldn’t stop a tear from escaping. “But something’s still missing. How will we ever fill that hole again?”
“We might not.” Janey’s serious expression looked strange on her face. “But we have each other. You have us. You don’t have to try to be anything you’re not.”
“I can’t be perfect,” Hannah murmured, as she suddenly realized it didn’t matter how much she strove toward an impossible standard. At the end of the day, it was only going to leave her sad and alone, like now. “I’ll never be normal.”
“Sorry to break it to you.” Cate smiled, and the mood lightened a little. “I’m not sure if this will make anything better, but Mom wasn’t either. She would have been the first person to admit her failings and her crazy.”
That wasn’t what Hannah remembered. “Her and Dad’s relationship was so full of love. Their relationship was so easy.”
Janey snorted. “It wasn’t easy. They fought and complained about each other all the time. As far as I’m aware, that’s part of marriage.”
“No.” Hannah tried to remember. It’d only been ten years. It shouldn’t be challenging to remember something so important. “That’s not how I remember it.”
“We remember them how we want to, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that,” Cate said.
A heavy sigh escaped Hannah. “So I lost Griff because I was so sure I was right, and now you’re telling me I was wrong. Not just about him, but how I’ve been living my life for a decade. How I remember our parents. Everything.”
“Hey, we’re not ones to judge,” Janey countered. “We just want you happy.”
Happiness seemed a long way away. No wonder things had crashed and burned. They’d been building for a long time, and Hannah had studiously ignored the signs of a pending breakdown. As was her way. Apparently.
“Maybe you should go over to Griff’s. Talk things out.”
Hannah was scared by Cate’s words. “You think so?”
Cate squeezed her hand. “You need to talk about what happened or you’ll always wonder what could have been.”
“What if he won’t talk to me?”
Janey snorted. “Then he’s an ass and doesn’t deserve you.”
She’d already known he was an ass. She’d also always known he was more. She’d known they could have what her parents had. But nothing was easy or normal. The idea threw her world upside down.
* * *
Griff drank a beer and sat out on his porch. Snow dusted the ground in a gentle sprinkle, nothing too intense or hazardous. He hated Christmas, but this year was far worse than usual. He’d had a lot of time to think the past week, and he wished he could get over himself.
Crunching snow preceded a flash of lights in his driveway. Hannah’s car inched toward him. Surprise made him set down his beer and lean forward. They hadn’t spoken and he hadn’t expected her to come today of all days. She should be at home being festive.
She got out of the car and wrapped herself up in a scarf and hat. Her pink cheeks made her skin glow, and she embodied everything that had drawn him from the beginning. She came up to stand on the stairs, off to the side of him.
“What are you doing here?” His tone escaped too sharp.
She winced. “I wanted to talk.”
“I meant you should be home on Christmas.”
“I don’t feel like celebrating.”
Concern swept through him. “Are you sick?”
The corners of her prim mouth creased. “Why does everyone keep asking that?”
“Because they know you?”
“If you knew me, you’d know I’m heartbroken because I messed up and you’re really angry.”
Her words hit him hard. “I broke your heart?”
“I didn’t understand you wanted to keep it a secret. I thought revealing it would be repaying you for all you’ve done.”
“How can you think that, Hannah? I kept it a damn secret for a reason.”
“Even from me.”
“I was going to tell you.” That was the worst part. He’d been planning to tell her once he knew for sure she wasn’t after him because he was the donor.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t want you to fall in love with me only because I made donations to your pageant.”
Her expression crumbled with obvious hurt. He watched her close in on herself. “I would never fall in love with a man because of that.”
“You obsessed over the donor.”
“I obsess over Christmas, that doesn’t mean I want to marry Christmas.”
She looked so...broken.
“It’s my fault,” she said. “I chose to believe you wanted me to surprise you because the alternative was too painful. That you were keeping the truth from me. That there was a reason you didn’t tell me.”
Knowing he needed to explain, he tried to find the words.
“I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”
Her breath hitched. He really had hurt her. He took a breath to tell her a story he’d never wanted to tell another person. “My mother married my father for his money and drained the life out of him. I grew up in the fancy, stuck-up circles of the wealthy. Everyone donated for the notoriety and I promised myself once I escaped I wouldn’t give to get credit for it, or to one-up other families. That’s why I have a stupid ‘the second’ added after my name. Mother dearest was building her empire. But she never knew how much money it took to sustain one.”
“It’s clear you’re nothing like her.”
“I’m an epic disappointment.” He was resigned to it.
“You aren’t to me.” Hannah’s expression remained sincere. Her words softened his heart. She brushed her hand against his cheek. “I get how the past can mess us up. I’m struggling with my grief but working on it.”
“You can talk to me about it when you’re ready.” He had to offer.
“Thank you. That means a lot. I’m sorry your mother did that to your father and that it hurt you. But the town knowing you gave them holiday cheer isn’t the same thing at all.”
“I don’t want their gratitude.”
“The difference is their gratitude comes without strings. They want the chance to say thank you and appreciate you for your contributions. We all give things to the town in our own ways. It’s what makes us all belong.”
He mulled over the town’s generosity and the whole concept of belonging. He never had before. Still, he didn’t want them to know. “Did you know who I was when you were reading those letters?”
She looked reluctant to answer. “Yes, but I’d just found out that day.”
He supposed that was something. “You spilled my secret without even asking me first. You lied to me by omission and outright over the letters. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to get over that.” He couldn’t find a healthy place to funnel the anger out. He wasn’t sure if he could trust her when trust came so hard for him anyway.
Her hand fell away. “I know I shouldn’t have revealed your identity. I got caught up, and the depth of my screw-up never even occurred to me until you walked away. I lied because I wanted the reveal to be special. Or at least, that’s what I told myself.”
“Does that make it okay?” He was really asking. He sucked at this relationship thing, and he wasn’t sure how to move on. He could use a little help.
“No, of course not. Nothing makes it right. I’m really sorry. I’ll always be sorry.” She withdrew from him. Her boots crunched against the snow as she walked away. “I missed you.” The soft phrase was almost lost to him.
He told himself to call her back, stop her, to go after her. He missed her more. It had to be more. But he couldn’t halt the doubt lurking inside him. He didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he watched her taillights disappear down the road.
After a while, he headed inside. Loneliness snuck up on him. He didn’t have a lot of people in his life. He’d done that on purpose. Isolated himself because of a mother who preferred not to speak to him so she could make up whatever she wanted to her country club friends without having to lie, as she said. If he thought Hannah had lied to him, she didn’t even come close to the deceit of his mother.
He shook his head, wondering how long he was going to allow old memories to ruin his life. His parents had been split apart for years.
For My Own: A Contemporary Christmas Anthology Page 34