by Anne Jolin
“No pouting, Hannah, or I’ll have to spank you.” His words set my skin on fire, and I’m suddenly wishing his note had said, “Wear no clothes.”
We make our way out to the truck and he helps me up, buckling me safely inside. “Ever the gentleman, Mr. Holt,” I tease, tossing out a line from one of our first mornings together.
“Only for you, sweetheart. Only for you,” he says shutting the door and running around the front of Bagheera to get inside.
It’s been snowing hard, even for late March, and Rock Falls looks even more beautiful. We don’t drive far, only two minutes maybe, before I realize he’s driving to the lake I live on. That’s odd. We could have just accessed it by my place, I think to myself.
He’s winding Bagheera down a short road that I know leads to the old boat launch. No one uses it anymore, even in the summer, but it’s secluded and private, so some people go down there to swim or have picnics. We’re close to turning the last corner when he slows to a stop and reaches into his pocket, pulling out what looks like a tie.
“Put this over your eyes. No peeking,” he says, and I’m so curious about what we’re doing that I practically rip it from his hands, tying it around my head.
Once I have the blindfold on, he starts driving again, and in less than a minute, he’s parking. He tells me not to move, and I hear him get out of the truck. A moment later, my door opens and he reaches in to unbuckle my seatbelt before lifting me out of the truck, standing me up on the ground. I’m nervous and excited, my heart pounding wildly in my chest.
“Keep your eyes closed. I’m going to take off the blindfold now, but I want you to keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them. Okay?” I nod and close my eyes. I feel his arms wrap around my body and his cold nose touch my cheek as he whispers into my ear, “Happy birthday, sweetheart. Open your eyes.”
My eyelids spring open and the air leaves my lungs completely. Bagheera is parked as close to the edge of the frozen lake as possible, her headlights shining out onto the ice. Ten feet in is a wool blanket and pillows surrounded by at least three dozen large candles. I spin around quickly in his arms and stand up on the toes of my boots, fighting back tears.
“It’s beautiful, Greyson. Thank you.” I kiss him slowly and passionately, hoping I can portray all of my feelings into this kiss. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
He smiles brightly, cupping my face in his hands and kisses the tear falling down my cheek. “Only for you,” he says, taking a basket from the bed of the truck and leading me carefully onto the ice.
“How did you manage all this?” I question in wonder.
“I set up most of it this afternoon, and while I was picking you up, Beth came down to light all the candles,” he says, sitting down onto our little bed of blankets and pillows.
In the winter, it’s dark before dinner, so we are sitting in only the glow of the candles and the beams of the truck for our little ice picnic. He opens the basket, taking out a beer for each of us and packages of Chinese food.
“It’s almost like that night at my house.” He hands me the bottle of Molson Canadian. “You’re just wearing a little more clothing and it’s a whole lot colder out.”
“And there’s no Mel Gibson,” I add.
“Yes, of course. And there’s no Mel Gibson.” He laughs.
We spend the next hour or so eating, drinking, and snuggling under the stars. We are so far from the city, and the air is so clear here that you can see almost every star in the sky. It’s breathtaking. I’m sitting between his knees, my back to his front, and telling him about my day. He had to work today, which is why our night had to be so late. His shift runs from six in the morning until six in the evening—twelve hour shifts.
He kisses me on the temple and sits up. “I’ll be right back.” He walks over to the truck and hops inside, rolling down all the windows. A few minutes later, I hear City and Colour’s song “Comin’ Home” start playing. I smile because this band has become our thing, and this song in particular has become our song.
He walks back over to me, and holds out his hand. “Dance with me.”
I put my hand in his and he pulls me up. He takes my arms, wrapping them around his neck and placing his forehead to rest on mine. When he does that, it melts my heart. He puts his arms around my waist and we slowly start moving to the music as the snow begins to fall.
He leans down to kiss me. It’s slow and romantic while still being wildly possessive. After he pulls away, I rest my head on his chest over his lion heart and close my eyes. I can feel his heart pounding as he whispers softly in my ear, “Being with you is like coming home, Hannah. When I look at you, I feel peace.”
I lift my head to look him in the eyes and kiss him softly on the lips. “You’re like coming home for me too, Greyson.”
Dancing in the headlights of his truck as the snow comes down is the moment I know I’ve fallen completely, madly, hopelessly in love with my Hunnam.
GREYSON TOOK ME home later that night and made love to me. It was like he was claiming me in an entirely different way than he ever had before. He left late that night, having to work again in the morning, but promised to pick me up that evening for dinner at my parents’ house. This was going to be the dinner. The dinner where I introduce my parents to Greyson, and after last night, I was even more excited. I knew I was in love with him, but I wasn’t ready to say it yet. Call me old-fashioned, but I wanted him to say it first, not because I did and he felt he had to reciprocate.
It’s Saturday, and I don’t have to work, so I decide to stay in bed, reading for a bit. Lennon bought me the newest K Webster novel, Rock Country, and I am excited to start it. I have a bit of a thing for romance novels. So what? Piping-hot sex scenes and men who are even hotter. What’s not to love? I enjoy them even more now that I have that kind of stuff in real life. Greyson blew most of my book boyfriends out of the water by a mile.
After reading for an hour or so, I decide to go and see if the girls are awake. I wanted to thank Beth for helping with my birthday surprise. She has officially redeemed herself from the marriage debacle. I smirk to myself.
I find Lennon and Beth sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, drinking coffee, and make my way to the fridge to get some orange juice. I find coffee disgusting, tastes like sawdust in my opinion. “Morning, buttheads,” I say, pouring the juice into a glass.
“Oh God. Quit it with the niceties, Hannah. We’re dying over here. How was the surprise?” Beth whines.
“At least Beth got to see it with her own eyes! I can only live through you,” Lennon says, mimicking my sister’s voice.
I debate toying with them for a bit and not telling them, but my excitement gets the better of me and I gush, telling them about our entire night. I leave out the part about having fallen in love with him. I want Greyson to be the first person who hears me say those words. “Thank you for helping him, Beth. That was so sweet of you,” I say, wrapping my sister in a big hug.
“We’re happy for you, Han,” Lennon says, blowing me a kiss. “You know I’m not much for all that lovey-dovey shit, but you deserve to be happy. After everything that happened with Jackson, you deserve some one stable who takes care of you. I have to say, I didn’t expect it to be Hunnam, but you two are great together.”
I groan and burry my head into Beth’s hoodie. After I accidently slipped up and Greyson found out about my nickname for him, he decided to tell everyone. I do mean everyone. Once at the grocery store, he told the old lady at the checkout that he was, in fact, a Charlie Hunnam lookalike. She had no idea who that was, but he was happy to embarrass me nonetheless. Now that everyone else in our circle of friends knows about it, they’ve decided to use the nickname too.
“Oh God. Please don’t call him that. It was even bad when I called him that in my head, but hearing you guys say it out loud is embarrassing as shit.”
“Quit bitching, Han. Be happy he looks like Jax and not Bobby.” Beth laughs ma
king reference to one of our favorite TV shows, Sons of Anarchy.
“What time are we headed out?” Lennon asks. The girls are taking me to the spa today as a birthday gift. We are getting massages and mani/pedis.
“We should probably leave in the next hour or so if we want to use the steam room beforehand,” Beth replies.
An hour later, we are all climbing into Lennon’s Chevy Equinox and headed across town to the spa. Once we arrive, we check in and head to the changing rooms. We put away our things, wrapping our towels around us, and head to the steam room.
“So, do I really have to ask? Or is someone going to tell me?” I say, eyeing down the two most important girls in my life. Neither of them says anything. They just look at each other, asking for some kind of silent plea for help. “Seriously? Neither of you is going to say anything?” I try asking again. Still nothing. “Fine. I saw Jayden’s truck parked down the street when I got home last night. I don’t know if he snuck out a window this morning or what, but one of you better fess up and tell me whose room he was shacked up in.” I already know it was Beth, but I want her to say it out loud. Lennon would never sleep with Jay. I’m still certain she has a thing for Jami, whether she will admit it or not is another story.
Beth throws her head back and covers her eyes with her hands. “Oh God. Okay, fine. It was me. He was in my room. No, we did not sleep together, and no, he did not crawl out a window,” she says in a huff.
“Then why exactly was he parked down the street like some kind of dirty little secret?” I press.
“I just wasn’t ready to discuss it with either of you. I asked him not to park in the driveway when he came over yesterday. That’s all.”
I just want her to tell me that she likes him. He’s completely up-front with his feelings for her and she still acts like she’s not even remotely attracted to him, which is a ridiculous lie. No one believes her.
“Well, what did you guys do last night then?” I’m being relentless, but I want to know and her sticking her head in the sand isn’t helping anyone.
Beth looks over towards Lennon and glares. “Are you going to help me or what? She’s grilling me with twenty questions and you’re not saying a damn word.”
“Not a chance in hell.” Lennon laughs to herself. “I learned a long time ago not to get between the Rhodes sisters. Not unless you want to be rocking a black eye for a week.” She’s teasing us, but the fact is that it’s true.
Although the three of us have always been close, Lennon and I are the same age and grew up as best friends. One day when we were twelve and Beth was fourteen, I sprayed Beth with the hose and she was pissed. Lennon took my side and little blond Beth decked her right in the head. We still laugh about it, and since that day, Lennon has never chosen sides during one of our fights.
“Just spit it out, Beth,” I say.
“You’re an annoying little sister,” Beth spits at me. “But fine! He came over to fix the washing machine and I invited him to stay for dinner. It got late and he slept in my room. No funny business, no horizontal tango, nada!”
Lennon and I both start to laugh. “He came over to fix the washing machine and you invited him to stay for dinner? How very Desperate Housewives of you, Beth.”
“Oh, shut up. You’re both a bunch of jackasses, you know that?” She’s smiling now too.
“Maybe so, but we’re your jackasses, sis! Besides, I’m happy for you. You guys have been running circles around each other for years.”
“I don’t like him. Not like that. We’re friends,” she rushes out defensively.
Lennon and I both roll our eyes as we stand to get out of the steam room.
Three hours later and we’ve all been pampered to within an inch of our lives. Every part of me has been massaged and my nails have been painted a deep red to match the roses Greyson got me. I’m thrilled that Lennon drove because I’m so relaxed that I’m not sure it would be safe for me to get behind the wheel of a car anytime soon. We stop at Starbucks to grab a drink on the way home, coffee for the girls—yuck—and hot chocolate for me. It’s almost five and I decide to text Greyson even though I’ll see him soon.
Me: The spa was amazing! Hope your day has been uneventful. See you at 7!
Normally, Beth would be coming to dinner with me at my parents, but tonight is about them getting to know my new boyfriend, so she decided to stay home and rent a movie with Lennon instead. Greyson doesn’t text me back, but that is sometimes common for him if they’re having a busy shift.
By seven o’clock, Lennon has curled my hair and I am dressed casually in black jeans and a grey over-the-shoulder sweater. I paired it with my brown, knee-high boots and a massive green scarf. This weekend has been amazing, and dinner tonight is going to be the cherry on top of everything! It’s too bad Kai’s trip home was cancelled. I was hoping he’d be in town to see everyone.
I go out to the living room and plop down on the couch with the girls to wait for Greyson. It’s seven fifteen now and he still hasn’t shown up. I send another text.
Me: Did you have to work late? I can meet you there if that’s easier.
By seven thirty, he still hasn’t answered.
“Maybe his phone died?” Lennon offered. Maybe it did. I give my mom a quick call to let her know that we are running late and would be there soon. She said that it’s no problem and Dad would put the meat on the grill when we get there. It may be winter and the ground may be covered in snow, but my dad grills all year round.
It’s eight o’clock now and I’m torn between being worried about Greyson and leaving my parents hanging. I decide to head over to my parents and call the station on my way there. As I’m walking out the door, I send Greyson a message to let him know that I’ll meet him there.
Me: I hope everything is okay. I’m headed over to my parents. Meet me there.
I call the station on the drive to my parents to make sure that everything is okay. Sometimes, if they get a bad call late in their shift, it is possible for them to work late and not be able to call. The chief’s assistant tells me that there were no problems on shift today and he got off on time. Well that’s weird.
I try calling him, thinking that maybe he fell asleep after work and my texts didn’t wake him. No answer. I am really starting to get pissed now. Where the fuck is he? I try calling him once more, but there is still no answer. I send a final text, working hard to bite back my anger.
Me: Not sure what happened to you. Call me.
Greyson never shows up at my parents’ house for dinner. He never calls. He never texts. In fact, I don’t hear from him for over a week.
IF IT WEREN’T for the fact that I called to find out if he’d shown up to work on Sunday morning, I wouldn’t have even known if he was alive. The night he didn’t show for dinner, my imagination quickly got the better of me. At first, I was convinced that he’d wrapped his truck around a tree in the bad weather, but no one had mentioned anything, and like I said before, it’s a small town. Tragedy would spread fast. From there, it quickly went to him in bed with a busty blonde from the bar. The bastard probably went out to get a drink with his buddies from work and took some cheap, plastic bimbo home to screw. He hadn’t ever given me reason to believe he’d cheat on me, but to be honest, that seemed like an easier thing to wrap my head around than him just blowing me off without saying so much as a word, especially after our night on the lake. What kind of coward leaves someone without even having the balls to tell them? Fucking bullshit.
I feel sorry for anyone who crossed my path that week. To say I was bitchy would be putting it mildly. I considered driving to his house to tear him a new asshole more than once, but the girls talked me down off the ledge. Jami even dragged me out running on Sunday when he noticed that I was lacking more pep in my step that usual. He fired questions at me until I told him what had happened. That time, I was the one holding someone back from breaking down his door.
I really don’t know how something could go from being so amazing
to a complete clusterfuck almost instantly. Things with Jackson had gotten bad, but they’d gotten bad slowly, over time. Not overnight. I felt gutted and rejected. I didn’t sleep, I barely ate, and I was running solely off my anger. There was also a part of me that missed him so much it hurt, but I kept that part buried down as deep as I could push it. They say you can never love someone as much as you can miss them, and if I let myself feel that, it would cripple me.
It’s Monday night. Exactly one week and one day since ‘The Blow Off.’ Beth went out, although she wouldn’t tell us where, so Lennon and I order pizza and watch a movie. It suits me just fine because Beth seems to be on ‘Team Greyson.’ She’s come up with every excuse in the book for his behavior, and I am tired of hearing them. Lennon is always on ‘Team Hannah.’ She is all about ‘fuck love’ these days, even more so than usual. If I had to guess, it would be because Jami has a new girlfriend, but we have come to an agreement. She doesn’t ask me about Greyson and I don’t ask her about Jami. We say, “Fuck ‘em,” together and watch Alice kill some zombies in Resident Evil.
We go to bed relatively early considering it is a Monday night and we both have to work the next day. It takes me forever to fall asleep. My mind is replaying the week before ‘The Blow Off’ over and over again, as it has every night since then, looking for some sort of explanation as to how this could have happened. I finally manage to drift off to sleep around eleven, but I am startled awake less than two hours later.
What the hell is that noise? I sit up in the blackness of my room, listening closely. There it is again–slam, slam, slam. What the fuck? I creep slowly out of bed and open my door. I look across the hallway to see Lennon doing the same, clutching a lacrosse stick in her hands. I note immediately that Beth’s door is open and she isn’t inside. Maybe she is making the noise?
We tiptoe into the living room and stop. The house is quiet again and we hover here in silence waiting to see if it will start again. My heart is pumping a thousand beats a minute, and Lennon and I are holding hands. Of all the nights for this shit to happen, it has to be the night we watched a scary zombie movie. Come on. That’s just cruel. The noise seems to have stopped, and we turn to make our way back into our rooms. We get no more than a few feet when it starts again. Louder this time. It’s coming from the front door. The closeness of the sound catches us off guard and we scream.