Runaway Heart (A Game of Hearts #2) (19 page)

I RUBBED MY ARMS TO try to get the feeling back into my extremities as Hannah peeled her coat off and rummaged through her suitcase, coming out with two sweatshirts. She tossed one to me and pulled the other over her head.

I fumbled getting mine on since my fingers felt as if they were someone else’s and not my own as I said, “I think I’ve turned into a solid block of ice.”

Hannah turned, squinting as she said, “Your lips are a very vivid shade of blue.”

Tucking my hands up into my armpits, I stomped my feet to get the blood circulating. It was damn cold outside and, even though we’d taken a taxi back to the inn, I hadn’t shaken the bitter effects it had taken on me since we’d left the club.

Hannah switched the small TV on and turned the volume up.

I gave her an odd look.

“I don’t need the other girls knowing you’re in here with me,” Hannah huffed as she sat in a rocking chair placed adjacent to the TV, which played reruns of the daily news. “It’s bad enough they think there’s something going on between us. If they know I brought you to my room, then I’ll never hear the end of it.”

I sidestepped the fact she just basically implied there was nothing happening between us because I knew deep down that was a lie. “Well, that explains why ye snuck me in the back way instead of through the front door. I wonder, should I feel ashamed or excited because of it?” I asked, wiggling my eyebrows before I flopped down on her bed with a bounce.

“Stop it! If they’re back, they could hear you!” Hannah said as her cheeks blazed fire-engine red.

“You mean this?” I bounced on the bed, the worn springs groaning underneath me.

Hannah dropped her head into her hands. “Why do you always do the exact opposite of what I say?”

“Oh, live a little, Hannah. So what if the bed squeaks? And so what if ye’ve got me in here with ye? It’s not like we aren’t both adults and, believe me, your friends would probably cheer ye on if they thought that’s what we were up to.”

“Yeah, well, you can get that idea right out of your head,” she said, wagging her finger at me.

Pushing myself up on my elbows, I gave her the most heated look I could muster and just watched her.

“What?” she said, a nervous energy rolling off her.

“Isn’t that what ye brought me here for? To take advantage of me and leave me in a heap of sweat and broken dreams when ye’re done?” I asked, trying my hardest to keep a straight face.

She lunged out of the rocking chair, fuming. “That’s it. Get out.”

I came off the bed, wrapped my arms around her, and toppled us to the mattress with a laugh when the springs gave off a screech of protest.

“Damn it, Ed,” she hissed, shoving at me to let her go.

I pinned her arms and pulled her closer to me, searching for a reason good enough for her to let me stay. “You wanted me to tell you about my aunt, right?”

She twitched to get some space between us. “Not if it means you think it’s all right to manhandle me.”

I refused to let her go. “Can’t I have a moment when ye’re not pushing me away, or trying to scratch my eyes out? To hold you once more and remember how it was to feel your heart fall into beat with mine?”

She went as stiff as a board. “You’re breaking the rules, Ed.”

“You broke them first,” I replied, rolling onto my side, giving her the space she thought she wanted.

“Tell me about her.” Her voice was a quiet whisper amongst the droned voice of the reporter on the TV.

When she didn’t move, I rolled onto my back, put an arm behind my head, and caught her fingers up in mine as I told her all about Aunt Della and how she came to be somewhat of a guardian angel to those in need.

“We all knew it. There wasn’t a thing she could do to hide it from us. The bruises, the broken bones. My mother would cry and rage, but no one, save Aunt Della, could be the one to truly stop it.

“Every Christmas holiday, or Easter Sunday, she’d show up with a new scar, or a fresh injury. All blamed on the banister, or the hall carpet. She’d tripped; she’d fallen. Always something, but never him. Until one day, he almost killed my mom.

“Sometimes, we don’t do things in order to protect ourselves. Sometimes, it takes us years to figure out we were never the problem… or so Aunt Della says. But in one blink of an eye, years of her living under the heavy hand of her husband came to an end when he chose the wrong sister to take a swing at.

“After he went to jail, Aunt Della went through a lot of counseling. Then she went back to school and, with the help of my parents, she opened a shelter of sorts. She took in anyone who needed her help, whether they know it or not. She knew what it was like to live with that sort of paralyzing fear, which I think helps a good deal when someone who doesn’t understand it themselves comes to her, or like tonight, she comes to them.”

I heard the change in Hannah’s breathing and rolled over to face her as she turned her head away so I wouldn’t see her. I didn’t need to see her to know she was crying.

“Who hurt ye, love? I’ve asked before, and ye never gave me an answer. I’m asking again, and I’d really like ye to tell me. Open up and let me in, just a little. I promise ye I’d rather die a thousand deaths than to see one ounce of pain in your eyes.”

“It wasn’t me…” she whispered, putting her arm over her face.

“Hannah…”

She pulled her arm away and sat up, crossing her legs as she laced her fingers together. “I’m not lying. It really wasn’t me. It was… it is my mother.”

And, with that simple admittance, it was as if an avalanche let go inside her.

“Ed, I’ve seen so many fucked-up things. So many things a kid should never see. I’ve heard every awful name you could call someone you love that would break them down. Watched a healthy woman who was like sunlight to me shrivel into a version of herself that could belong in a nuthouse.

“A man should never raise his hands to a woman. A child should never have to witness her father beating the shit out of her mother, and then watch him just leave her… on the… on the… floor… like she was garbage, surrounded by blood and tears.

“And then the next day, he’d grovel and tell her he was sorry. That he’d never do it again. And the insane thing is… she’d believe him. Every single time. I’d beg her to take us away. Begged her, but she wouldn’t listen. She’d just make excuses for him. And then one day when she wasn’t enough… when his rage didn’t end with her, he came after me.”

She gave me a withering look that made me want to wrap her up in my arms and kiss away every part of her awful past.

“I left home when I was seventeen. After he’d thrown her into a glass table. It almost killed her and, by then, I had enough so I stood up to him. He backhanded me hard enough to loosen a few teeth, so I called the cops and locked myself in the attic until they got there. When they showed up, my dad had already called for an ambulance. For a moment, I thought maybe she’d admit what he’d done, but then my mom insisted she’d tripped and that I was mistaken. That he hadn’t pushed her. He was trying to catch her before she fell.”

Her gaze turned fierce as her tone shifted into resentment.

“I know what I saw, but the police didn’t believe me. And why should they? I was just a rebellious teenager, or so my father said when questioned. I was looking to cause problems when there wasn’t any. So, while they loaded my mother up in an ambulance and my father started the car to follow her, I packed a bag, took the grocery money from my mom’s secret stash, and never looked back.”

She stilled when I reached out and put my hands over hers.

“I’ve seen her once since then. She looked awful, Ed. He’d really done a number on her. Her face was…”

Hannah gulped a sob, and my resistance snapped. I didn’t care how many rules I broke. I pulled her into my arms and held her as she fell apart.

My heart ached for the past I couldn’t fix for her. All I could do was prove to her that my love would only make her stronger. That I wanted to raise her up on a pedestal and worship her—mind, body and soul.

For Hannah was my soul. She was a piece of me that had been taken when I was made and kept with her until we were destined to meet. She had my heart before I ever even knew her.

Maybe that was why Monica so easily left me. And why I’d never made a full connection with anyone. All of it had been waiting for when Hannah would walk into my life.

Now you just have to prove it to her.

Hannah fell asleep, curled up against me in ball. Not wanting to disturb her, I moved slowly until I stood over her, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest.

I didn’t want to leave, but wasn’t sure she’d be all too happy with me if I stayed. Indecision raked up and down my spine. Stay or go?

“Ed?” Hannah cracked her swollen eyes open.

“Right here, love,” I answered, coming around the other side of the bed closest to her and putting my hand on her shoulder.

“Shut the TV off please.” She sat up and toed off her shoes.

Grumbling something into the comforter, she latched hold of the blankets, rolled over, and pulled them over her shoulder.

I turned the TV off and made my way to the door as she called out to me again.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

Everything in me stilled. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“I need you, even if it’s just your arms around me. I need you,” she whispered.

I toed off my shoes, pulled the covers back, and settled in as Hannah moved over and curled her body into mine.

It started with a slow kiss that built into an inferno, raging with each piece of clothing we peeled off. There were no words as we used the tips of our fingers and the brush of our hands to urge the other on with what we wanted.

Hannah moaned when my body slid over the top of hers and joined us in one smooth thrust. There was no rush as I moved inside her with slow strokes. She didn’t hurry me with impatient hands. Both coming to a fulfillment that made us shudder and hold each other a little tighter until I rolled over and she nestled her backside against me.

It was a sharing of not only our bodies, but also of something more. Something deeper than there were words for. It was as if her heart decided it no longer wanted to run away and, instead, chose to unravel underneath me with each pulse that moved from my body to hers.

As I drifted off, Hannah in my arms and my body drugged into submission by hers, I thanked my lucky stars for whatever it was that altered Hannah’s mind and allowed her to let me back in.

Before I fell off into the world of dreams, Hannah shifted slightly and the bed gave off a slight squeak. The mattress vibrated under us as she chuckled. “At least it waited until now to have something to say.”

I nipped her shoulder. “We can give it a lot more to say if you’re up for it.”

Her face softened, and then her chin jutted up as a question rolled off her lips. “Can I ask you something?”

I pulled her closer against me. “Love, ye can ask me anything.”

“Love,” she repeated in a dreamy-like voice. “About that. Have you… have you ever been in love?”

It was a simple question. As simple as all the other questions we proposed to one another, but that one, it made my throat feel like it was about to close up as Monica’s face passed through my mind. Even though I knew it wasn’t
real
love, it didn’t stop the feeling of not wanting to talk about it.

Alarmed by my stillness, she pulled back a little so she could see me clearly. “You have, haven’t you?”

I should have told her before. I knew I shouldn’t have been so bothered to admit it. I was over it. Had been for a while, but rehashing one of the hardest moments of my life, especially to the girl who had stolen my heart, was like a knife ripping clean through my jugular.

“Ed?”

“Once.”

“Oh.” Her tone was stiff.

She pulled back even more, taking the sheet with her, until we were two separate entities again, both on our backs with a world of confusion between us.

I thought about telling her before, but every time I played it out in my head, it never went the way I wanted it to. It always ended with me standing alone again, just as I’d been before making it to the altar, because who wanted a man who had already been rejected? What if I told her and she realized I wasn’t all she thought I was? That I was the kind of damaged goods she couldn’t associate with.

“What happened?” Her quiet voice coming to me like a light at the end of a tunnel.

A bout of anxiousness rolled through me as I thought about that particular piece of my past. “I asked her to marry me, and then was practically left at the altar because she decided the bloke she’d been sleeping with behind my back was a better match for her. How’s that for a fairy-tale ending?”

I couldn’t keep the bitterness from snaking through my words. The toxic acid from moving up the back of my throat as I thought about her and all the memories I’d let go long ago.

“Marriage. Wow,” she said, taking it all in. “That’s ah… that’s a pretty big thing to keep to yourself. I mean, not that we’re dating or you had to tell me, or anything.” She made a small sound. “Shit. Never mind. I don’t… I don’t know why I’m getting so worked up over this.”