“Um, what?”
Somehow Cooper already had my phone in his hand. “I’m just adding everyone. If he flips out tonight, start with… I was going to say me, because I’m an awesome brother, but I think Mom first—her name is Shannon—and then me. Call us both. If you can’t get one of us, just start going down the list. We’re all Miles, except Chase and Brynn, they’re Reillys. And Ben is Gaines, and actually Ben is a really good choice too. He’s third. In fact, just consider my mom, me, and Ben to all share the number one spot. Roland is great in a crisis too, maybe because he’s the oldest, but he has a baby now. So yeah, let’s go with Shannon, Cooper, and Ben. If Leo needs help, call us.”
“Um…”
“Look, I know you’re the one in crisis here, and I don’t think you should be alone tonight either. You’ve been through some shit and trust me when I say, if we ever have the opportunity to get back at the motherfucker who did this to you, we will. But the shit could get shittier if Leo loses it, and Ben taught me to always be prepared. So this is me being prepared.”
“Okay.”
He handed my phone back and gave me a crooked grin. “Welcome to the family.”
I stared at him as he walked away.
“Are you okay?”
Leo’s soft voice broke me from my daze. “Yeah. I’m good. I just don’t want to be here anymore.”
“Let’s get you to the car,” he said. “We can finish up in here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Is there anything else in here that’s important for us to get?”
I glanced around the bedroom. At the furniture and disheveled bedding. “No. I don’t want any of this stuff.”
“Come on,” he said, his voice soft. “Let’s get out of here.”
I nodded and let Leo lead me out of the apartment, and away from the nightmare of my old life.
Fourteen
Leo
It was well after midnight when we got back to town. Hannah was asleep in the passenger seat in front of me, her head cradled against a throw blanket we’d taken from her apartment. Cooper had passed out partway through the drive. Hannah’s stuff crowded around us, but he’d made a pillow out of a bag of her clothes. Chase followed in Hannah’s car.
I needed to thank them for coming with me. They hadn’t hesitated, even for a second, when I’d told them my friend was in trouble. My brothers were good men.
We turned into the winery entrance and the tension in my back and shoulders eased. I almost hated how good it felt to be back. That wasn’t normal. I’d been filled with blinding panic anytime I’d tried to leave before. Now that I’d done it once, would I be able to do it again? Or was it a one-time deal? A moment of adrenaline-fueled purpose brought on by a friend in crisis?
I didn’t know.
Roland parked in front of my house and turned to look at me. His voice was quiet. “You going to be okay?”
I looked out the window, torn between gratitude that he cared enough to ask, and shame that he had to. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“It’s all right if you’re not,” he said.
He was wrong about that, but I appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. “Thanks. But I’m okay, at least for now. And she’s safe with me.”
“I know she is. There’s probably nowhere safer.”
I met Roland’s eyes and nodded. He and I had had our share of differences over the years. I’d resented him for moving away. But since he’d been back, our relationship had changed. I trusted Roland, and there was a very short list of people I could say that about.
Hannah stirred and looked around the car. “Are we here?”
“Yeah,” Roland said. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” she said, and a spark of rage shot through my veins. “But mostly just tired.”
“We’ll take care of unloading,” he said. “You can just go inside and get settled for the night.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Really, I don’t know how to thank you enough. You don’t even know me, and you did all this, and…”
“It’s no problem,” he said. His eyes flicked back to me again.
He kept doing that. Cooper and Chase too. They’d all been eying me like they were expecting me to burst into flames or freak out or something. Obviously, I knew why. At this point, I was just glad I hadn’t lost it.
“Where’s my pants?” Cooper mumbled in his sleep.
I reached back and nudged him. “Coop. Wake up.”
“Hmm?” He rubbed his eyes and stretched—as much as he could in the packed car. “Shit, I was having the weirdest dream.”
“Yeah, we know,” Roland said. “But what about you losing your pants is weird?”
“Was I talking in my sleep?” Cooper asked. “That’s weird. I don’t think I’ve ever talked in my sleep before. I’ll have to ask Amelia if I do that regularly.”
I ignored my brother’s rambling about sleep-talking and got out of the car. I opened the passenger’s side door for Hannah and offered her my hand—my good hand—to help her out.
She moved slowly, wincing as she stood. A renewed surge of adrenaline poured through me. God, I wanted to kill the fucker who’d done this to her. I wanted to give him a copy of every injury he’d inflicted on Hannah. And then I wanted to give him more. Break his arms. Crush his knees. Bash in his nose so it would never look the same. I wanted him to hurt like she was hurting. Leave him a ruined mass of bruises and blood so he’d never touch a woman again.
I took a deep breath to stay calm and led Hannah inside. Roland, Cooper, Chase, and I made quick work of unloading her stuff. We piled it next to my weights for the time being.
My brothers all said goodnight to Hannah, giving her gentle hugs. She teared up as she thanked them for their help.
I closed the door behind them after they left, so exhausted I was ready to drop.
“You can have my room again,” I said.
“Thank you,” she said, her eyes shining with tears. “I don’t even know what to say.”
I shrugged. “This is what friends do.”
“Are you okay?”
“Don’t worry about me,” I said. “You’re the one who’s hurt.”
“I know, but…” She stepped closer. “You left.”
Her concern for me burned, as if it were cauterizing a wound. A necessary pain. “Yeah, I did. I’m not sure what to think about it right now.”
“Right, I’m sorry. It’s late, and you must be tired.”
“I am, but you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” I said. “Let’s just get some sleep. We can talk tomorrow.”
She nodded, but her eyes didn’t leave mine. She was looking straight at me, but I didn’t shift away. I didn’t turn my face to the side or angle my body so she couldn’t see.
A few seconds of that was all I could take. It left me feeling intensely vulnerable. Exposed. I was about to move—get out of her line of vision—when she came closer. A heartbeat later, she crossed into my personal space and put her arm around my waist, leaning her head against my chest.
I braced myself for the impact. For the unpleasant stinging sensation I felt when anyone touched me.
But it didn’t come.
Her body pressed against mine, warm and soft. Her head tucked beneath my chin, her hair silky against my throat. After a second’s hesitation, I put my arms around her and squeezed gently.
And I almost fell apart.
My legs weakened, nearly buckling beneath me. Something burst inside my chest, making me tingle all over. Hannah’s embrace didn’t hurt. It didn’t make me desperate to pull away. To maintain a bubble of space around me. It made me want to melt in her arms. To hold her tighter. Drown in the scent of her hair. My eyes rolled back and before I could stop myself, I let out a low groan, deep in my throat.
Holy shit, this felt good.
I held her gently, careful of her hurt arm tucked between us, and just breathed. I was as bruised and battered on the inside as she was on the outside
. But for one brief moment, I felt whole.
She pulled away, and I reluctantly let her go. The feel of her body next to mine echoed through me, like the afterimage of the sun.
“Thank you again,” she said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Hannah.”
“Night, Leo.”
I watched her walk down the hall toward my bedroom, then took off my shoes and settled on the couch. Surprisingly, I felt sleep come for me quickly. Maybe exhaustion was catching up with me. But with the memory of Hannah in my arms still fresh, I drifted off.
I jerked awake, my heart racing. Morning light filtered in between the cracks in the blinds. I checked the time. It was almost eight. The house was silent—no sign of Hannah. She must have still been asleep.
Images and sensations flashed through my mind. The lights along the highway as we drove. Mile markers. Automatic hospital doors and the harsh scent of sanitizer. I started to breathe faster, panic trying to edge its way in.
I wondered if I was having a delayed reaction to leaving last night. I’d held it together out of necessity, but now I felt like I was halfway to rocking in a corner.
If I was on the verge of a breakdown, I didn’t want to do it in front of Hannah. I sent her a text to tell her I’d be back, hoping that wouldn’t wake her, and headed outside into the crisp morning. Going to the one place I knew I could in the state of mind I was in.
My mom’s.
She was up, but still dressed in an old Salishan t-shirt and pajama pants, her hair in a bun. She took one look at me and grabbed my hand to drag me inside.
Next thing I knew, I was sitting on her couch, not quite sure how I got there. My chest hurt, like a heavy weight sat on it, making it hard to breathe.
“Slow breaths,” she said. My good hand was in hers and she rubbed the back of it in time with her counts. “In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four.”
I let the sound of her voice anchor me. Followed her commands to breathe in, then hold. Out, then hold. She knew exactly what to do. It had been a while since she’d had to talk me through a panic attack, but it certainly wasn’t the first time.
“Thank you,” I said when I thought I could speak clearly. The pressure in my chest still felt suffocating, and I couldn’t escape the sense of impending disaster looming in the background of my thoughts. When I got like this, it felt like the world was ending. Like I was about to die, and there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening.
“Take your time,” Mom said.
I nodded and took more slow breaths. I wasn’t sure how much time passed before I stopped feeling like I was going to crack. Gradually, the agitation eased. My heart slowed. Breathing returned to normal.
There was a knock on the front door. Mom squeezed my hand. “It’s probably Benjamin. I have a leak under the kitchen sink and I think I made it worse last night when I tried to fix it. I’ll be right back.”
I nodded again. I wasn’t ready to say much yet. Mom got up and answered the door.
Ben came in, carrying his battered red toolbox. He was dressed in a plaid flannel shirt and jeans. It might have been my imagination, but it seemed like his beard was more neatly trimmed than usual.
“Morning. I hope I’m not here too early, but you said to come by first—” He paused, his eyes landing on me. “Leo.”
By his expression—his brow furrowed with concern—he clearly knew something about last night. It shouldn’t have surprised me. Nothing stayed quiet for long around here.
“Ben.”
“You all right?”
“I don’t know.”
Ben nodded, then glanced between me and my mom. He put the toolbox down and came over to sit in an armchair beside the couch. “I was going to stop by later. See if you were okay.”
“News travels fast,” I said.
Mom sat down next to me. “Your brothers were group-texting us the play-by-play last night.”
“Were they?”
She laughed softly. “Did you expect anything less? Cooper sent a lot of selfies.”
“Sorry if I freaked you out last night,” I said. “I know you must have been wondering what was going on.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “How’s your friend—Hannah?”
“Hannah Tate. She’s okay, I think. She was asleep when I left.”
“Roland said the man who hurt her is in jail.”
I nodded.
“Good.” There was no mistaking the heat in her tone. My mom was a gentle soul, but the past couple of years had brought out the fight in her. “I hope he stays there.”
“Believe me, so do I.” I didn’t want to scare her with all the things I wanted to do to that piece of shit. “And even if he’s released, she’ll be safe here.”
“She will,” Mom said. “I’m glad you brought her here.”
“Where are you at, Leo?” Ben asked. “Scale of one to ten.”
I took a deep breath. “One being totally chill, and ten being losing my mind… about a six, I guess. I was worse when I woke up, but I’m feeling better.”
“Sounds like you’re headed in the right direction.” He gave me a small smile. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks.”
I didn’t want to get into what this meant. Whether I’d be able to leave again. I was still too raw. But somehow, Ben seemed to realize that. He met my mom’s eyes again—something passed between them, but I wasn’t sure what—and stood.
“I’ll see about that sink.” He grabbed his toolbox and went into the kitchen.
It wasn’t surprising to see the look he gave my mom when he thought she wasn’t looking. A glance of longing I recognized all too well. It was what I felt every time I looked at Hannah.
What was surprising was the look my mom gave him, after his back was to her. That wasn’t just longing in her eyes. I could see pain and gratitude, and something else. Something deeper. I knew my mom and Ben had become good friends, especially since my dad had left. And although he’d never admitted it to me, I knew Ben had feelings for her.
But watching her watch him convinced me of something I hadn’t realized before. My mom had feelings for Ben, too.
That was interesting.
I was never one to pry. I knew what it felt like to have secrets you’d rather not share. So I didn’t say anything.
“I think I’m okay now,” I said. “I should get back and see if Hannah’s awake.”
“Okay, honey,” Mom said. “Let me know if either of you need anything.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
I called a goodbye to Ben, then left. My heart rate felt mostly normal, and although the aftereffects of all that adrenaline would stay with me for a while, I felt better. Calm, at least. I didn’t think I’d lose my shit in front of Hannah, so that was good.
When I got home, I opened the door to find her curled up in the corner of my couch, eating a bowl of cereal. Her black eye and swollen lip looked painful. Dark purple bruises discolored her cheek and jaw. She held the cereal bowl propped on one knee, balanced by her injured arm, and she had a blanket draped over her lap.
She looked up, meeting my eyes, and smiled. “Morning.”
It squeezed my heart to see her like that. Broken, and so fucking beautiful.
“Hey.” I shut the door behind me. “How are you feeling?”
“Not bad, all things considered. I slept like a baby.”
“Glad to hear that.” It was remarkable how much her voice soothed my raw edges. Already I felt so calm. Almost normal.
“I helped myself to breakfast.” She gestured to her bowl with her spoon. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. Make yourself at home.”
“Thanks.”
There was something about seeing her relaxing on my couch first thing in the morning. No makeup. Messy hair. The bruises didn’t matter; she still looked amazing. Her black tank top showed the ink on her arm and her toes peeked out from beneath the blanket.
I l
iked it. She looked like she belonged.
But she didn’t. Not like that. There was no way I was dragging her into my dumpster fire of a life. One trip into the outside world didn’t mean I was fixed.
I’d help Hannah pick up the pieces of her life, but only so she could go out and live it again.
Fifteen
Hannah
Leo took a seat in the other corner of the couch, and I felt a little glimmer of satisfaction. When I’d sat here before, he’d kept more distance—sitting in his office chair instead of next to me. I had a feeling I knew why, and this seemed to confirm my suspicions.
He was trying to keep his scarred side away from me.
There was a practiced flow to his movements. In the way he always turned slightly, keeping his left side back. In the way he let his hair fall around his face. He was constantly trying to hide his scars. Present his right side to the world.
The other night, I’d been sitting on the left side of his couch. If he had sat next to me, it would have put his scarred side facing me. I wasn’t sure if he’d made a conscious decision to sit elsewhere, or if it was simply habit. But I’d hoped he might sit closer if I left him an opening by sitting on the other side.
He had, and it made me smile.
I was also worried about him. I had no idea what he must be feeling now, in the aftermath of what he’d done last night. Judging by the tense furrow of his brow and the stormy look in his eyes, he was struggling.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “Do you need ice or anything?”
So much tension in his expression—in his body—and he was still concerned about me. I brushed my face with the tips of my fingers. “It hurts, but I think it just needs time to heal.”
Leo’s eyes flicked up and down and his fingers twitched. I wished I could read him. Was he thinking about touching me? Was that what had prompted that little movement? Or was he anxious to get rid of me and get his space back? It was so hard to tell.
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