Never Let You Go (24 page)

See you soon.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’d like to thank my agent, Michael Bourret, for his unflagging support, and my editor, Annette Pollert. She manages to combine a sharp eye with endless patience. Thanks are also due to Emilia Rhodes, who guided this book through the very first stages. I would also like to express my appreciation for my husband, Aaron, who never doubts me, even when I doubt myself.

Some secrets are meant
to stay buried. . . .

DON’T MISS
EMMA CARLSON BERNE’S

STILL WATERS

The back door slapped flatly behind them as Hannah followed Colin back into the house. “I’ll grab the bags from the car,” he said over his shoulder, his step brisk and confident again. Hannah imagined his figure disturbing the thick, still air of the house, like a rippling eddy in a sluggish stream.

“Okay.”

His footsteps descended the porch stairs. Hannah stood still in the center of the floor, feeling a thin layer of grit in the bottom of her sneakers, the frayed laces pressing on her instep. The room was perfectly silent except for a fly buzzing and bumping against the window. It must have come in with them. Outside, Colin slammed the car door. But even that sound was muffled in the heavy air that shrouded the room.

Hannah suddenly felt the distance around them, the miles of woods separating them from the nearest house, from even one road. Her breath hitched and a wave of claustrophobia tightened
around her throat. The rough gray walls of the room seemed to rise around her, enclosing her in a high box. What were they doing here? What had she done? Running away like this—lying.

Quickly she moved to the near window and, twisting the stiff latch, shoved the splintery frame upward with all her strength. It resisted, and then gave with a groan. Hannah pressed her face against the rusty screen, inhaling the rich mud and grass odor that wafted in along with the rushing noise of the wind in the pine trees. The silence became more ordinary and the tightness in her throat slowly loosened.

Hannah turned, blowing out her lips in a long exhale.
Okay, get a grip. It’s all going to be okay—Colin seems fine now. And the place is nice, actually.
She examined the room more closely. The wide gray board walls were unpainted and darkened with age. Overhead, the ceiling arched, crisscrossed with exposed rafters. On each outside wall, wide windows stretched, facing the lake, so that the water seemed like it was going to lap right up to the edge of the floorboards. Who cared if it was a little strange?
Hannah, you’re here, alone with your boyfriend for the first time, really alone, at Pine House, and nothing to do but just lie around, eat, swim, talk.

Swiftly, before she thought too much about what she was doing, she crossed to the sofa, where
Middlemarch
sat open beside the stained coffee cup. In one motion, she picked up the book, slamming it shut, and shoved it under the couch. Anything to get rid of it fast. She grabbed the coffee cup and carried it through to the kitchen, where she dropped it into the sink. Then, back in the
living room, she plumped the couch cushions, choking a little on the dust, and smoothed them with both hands.

She stood back and surveyed her work.
You’d never know anyone had ever been there,
she thought just as the outside door slammed. This was
her
house now—hers and Colin’s. Whatever had gone on here before was over.

She looked up as Colin came into the room with the duffel bags over each shoulder. Sweat beaded his forehead. “Hot out.” He looked around. “There’s a nice breeze in here though.”

Hannah smiled with satisfaction. “Where do you want to sleep?” The words sounded ordinary but she felt a shiver go through her as she followed Colin’s broad back down the hallway toward the bedrooms. A little giggle of anticipation escaped her like a bubble, and Colin turned around, smiling. His eyes gleamed in the shadowy darkness.

“What?” His voice was low and teasing, as if he’d already guessed what she was thinking.

“Nothing.” His face was very close to hers.

“Nothing,” he teased, imitating her. He grabbed her around the waist with the suddenness of a snake strike. She giggled again, and he stopped the laugh by pressing his mouth to hers. Hannah leaned into the kiss. His arm circled her waist, pulling her in closely, and Hannah felt her heart quicken. His lips were firm and insistent. He pressed her against him, and she felt her head fall back. A doorknob was digging into her back. Feeling behind her, she twisted the smooth china knob. The door swung open, and they almost fell into the room beyond.

It was the room with the big bed. Hannah, eyes mostly closed, let Colin press her backward onto the mattress. She felt him leaning over her. Smiling, she stretched her arms over her head, waiting for him to clasp her hands and kiss her again. But his body grew still.

Hannah opened her eyes. Colin was leaning over her, but his eyes were fixed on the small window opposite the bed.

Hannah craned her neck back, but all she could see out the window were trees and gray sky. “Colin?” she murmured.

He looked down at her as if surprised to see her there. “Hmm?”

“Are you okay?” she asked carefully.

He shook his head a little and blinked. “Of course.” But he rolled over to one side.

Hannah raised herself up on an elbow and looked around. There wasn’t much to see. Books stacked beside the bed: some Jane Austen and a dictionary. A closed closet door. The white bedspread. That was all.

“Was this your parents’ room?” she asked.

Colin shook his head. “I don’t know. I guess so. I already told you like six hundred times, Han, I don’t remember this place. Okay?”

Hannah sighed. “Sorry. I’m just curious, and I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

“Okay, let’s forget it.” Colin smiled his easy grin. “You’re so gorgeous on that white quilt. Hang on.” He climbed off the bed and disappeared down the hall for a moment, returning with his camera in his hand.

“Okay, let’s see it,” he said, his camera already at his eye. Hannah grinned and scooted backward on the bed until she was half propped against the pillows. She struck a pose, arms behind her head, hips twisted to the side.

“Nice.” Colin snapped a few shots. “Very Hollywood bombshell.”

Hannah snorted and flipped onto her stomach. “All us bombshells wear jeans and T-shirts with”—she looked down at the words on her shirt—“Reider High Mathlympics on them.” She sucked in her cheeks and aimed a sultry look at the camera.

Colin zoomed in, the camera clicking in an insectile manner.

“Hey, not too close!” Hannah protested, holding her hands up in front of her face.

“What do you mean ‘not too close’? Like this?” Colin put a knee up on the bed and leaned over. Hannah giggled a little as he advanced closer, still holding the camera. He clicked off another shot and moved closer. She pressed herself back against the pillows and reached for him.

Colin shoved the camera to one side and bent over her. She closed her eyes, relishing the hot, insistent pressure of his lips on hers. Before Colin, she didn’t even know what a kiss was. Howard Mortenson freshman year didn’t count. Kissing him was like having someone toilet plunge her mouth. And after that, no one . . . until Colin.

Too soon, Colin drew his head back. He stretched out on his side next to her, propping his head up with his hand. His blue eyes were soft and sparkling. The sun must have come out
because a dapple of sunlight played on the wall behind him. “Are you happy we came up here?” he asked.

She nodded, rolling a little closer to him. “Yeah. I can’t believe we made it, but I’m really happy.” She burrowed her face into the hard muscles of his chest. She could hear his heart beating slow, strong thuds. Her muscles felt limp, as if her body were filled with honey. She gazed into Colin’s face, lazily stroking the side of his stubbly cheek with the tips of her fingers, smiling. This felt good. It felt right, finally, after all the angst from earlier.

Colin moved an inch closer. “Han . . .” His breath blew softly against her cheek. “I . . .”

She felt herself tighten up. No. Not yet. It was too soon. She wasn’t ready right now. She rolled away from Colin and slid off the bed. He sighed and flopped back on the pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

Hannah stood at the edge of the bed, trying to gauge his level of frustration, chewing her lip. A little moment of silence stretched out—familiar silence. This was the silence they’d been inhabiting since he first spoke those three words graduation night. “You want to get something to eat?” she offered after a long moment. She tried a little smile.

“Sure.” He sighed and shoved himself off the bed.

Just a little more time. That was all she needed, she told herself as she followed Colin down the hallway.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Emma Carlson Berne lives in Cincinnati, Ohio, with her husband, Aaron, and their sons, Henry and Leo. She is also the author of
Still Waters
and
Hard to Get.

ALSO BY EMMA CARLSON BERNE

Still Waters

Hard to Get