“Hanna,” I almost pleaded with her to hear me—to hear what I realized she couldn’t see in herself. “You are surviving. You’re here living your life even when it’s hard. Talking to others lets them know it’s possible. It gives you something to be proud of.”
She was beyond hearing me. She’d scooted back, her shoulders tight, and her jaw clenched. “What about you?” she practically sneered. “Have you let it out?”
Warnings went off in my head, and I squared my own shoulders. I didn’t like being cornered, and Hanna was doing her best to get out of the corner I’d put her in, by forcing me into my own. I’d opened myself to her to make her feel safe enough to open to me. I hadn’t done it to be psychoanalyzed. I didn’t need to talk about Sabrina. I didn’t want to.
I braced myself, fortifying my walls, knowing how I lashed out when Sabrina was brought up outside of my control and not wanting to do it to her just because she was hurting from the mess I put us in. “I don’t have anything to let out.”
“Really?” she asked, slapping the water. “You don’t talk about your precious Sabrina.”
“That doesn’t hold me back,” I ground out—I lied.
She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Says the man who didn’t even mention she died. Are you even honest with yourself about her, Daniel? Or do you tell yourself it’s fine?” She pushed harder, her anger hitting me in my weakest spots. “Says the man who wants to be alone his whole life to avoid getting hurt. That seems rational and not at all keeping you from living life. You pretend you don’t have a box you shove everything into. Like you don’t lie to yourself just like everyone else.”
Crack.
Just like that, she broke through the flimsy walls. I hadn’t had enough time to erect them—my guard down—and she reached the raw anger underneath.
“This isn’t about me. All of this is for you. You needed my help. You asked for it. I didn’t ask for you and your sad attempt to help me to avoid your own issues. Because that’s what you do, Hanna. Avoid. Your. Issues.”
Hanna sat back and lifted her chin, looking down her nose at me, as if she could get high enough, I wouldn’t be able to see the pain glossing over her eyes. She didn’t even lash back. She merely pulled her shoulders back and turned to leave, not bothering to cover herself as she climbed the stairs.
I let her go.
I’d fucked up and ruined the morning but was too mad—too vulnerable—to go after her right now. I knew I’d apologize for being an epic dick, but I just needed to breathe.
The bathroom door slammed, and I cringed, hating myself. Panic gripped me when I thought maybe I’d pushed too far too fast after everything we’d done in the last twenty-four hours. My lungs seized with fear that maybe I’d thrown everything at her when she was at her weakest, and now she was in the bathroom doing God knew what.
I just wanted you to love me. But I wasn’t good enough. I loved you so much, Daniel. Why couldn’t you have loved me? I wanted to spend forever with you. Be your wife. I could have waited for you to be ready. I know we’re young, but no one was ever going to want me like I am. I wanted to wait for you, but I needed to do it as more than your friend. I know I said I was fine, but I’m not. I needed more. You’re all I have and if you couldn’t love me. No one will. And I can’t live with that. I’m never going to be good enough. Never. So, why bother. I can’t do it anymore. It’s too hard. Life is too hard. My mind is too hard to live with. I just wanted to love you. I wanted you to love me. I can’t do this. I’m sorry. Even if you don’t love me, I’ll always love you.
She’d killed herself that night when I went out with Kent.
Bile rose up my throat, and I almost fell on the deck in my rush to run to the bathroom. I slammed against the door, ready to fling it open, only to find it locked.
“Hanna,” I shouted, slapping my palms to the door. “Hanna. Open up, baby. I’m sorry. Please, open up.” Sweat beaded on my forehead, and I took in the door, looking for the weak spot to break it open. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Hanna. Talk to me. Please.”
I shook the handle, the adrenaline flooding my muscles, making me feel like I could rip it off.
I didn’t need to worry about it because, in the next instant, the door flung open. Hanna stood with a towel wrapped around her body, her hair sopping wet, hanging down her back. Her beautiful green eyes wide in shock.
Without any thought at all, I yanked her into my arms, squeezing her too tight, but not caring.
“Daniel? What the hell?” she asked with no heat.
“I’m sorry I pushed. I just wanted to help, and I pushed too hard, and I snapped when I shouldn’t have.”
She pushed against my chest, but held on to my arms, looking up with furrowed brows. I could only imagine what I looked like. I could only imagine the wild fear marring my features.
“Are you okay?” she asked slowly.
Swallowing, I take deep breath after deep breath to get myself under control. “Yeah,” I breathed. “I’m sorry I snapped. And you stormed off, and I panicked. I just worried when you locked yourself in here—I just…”
I just worried you’d hurt yourself like Sabrina, and it would be all my fault.
I couldn’t admit it, but I think she understood because her hands slowly moved up and down to
