Page 56 of Safe With Me
Everything would be just fine. I took a breath and repeated that to myself. Everything would be justfine.
If that were true, why did I feel like this was all wrong?
Chapter Fifteen
Tate
Dating someone you cared about shouldn’t feel like an armed truce, but being with Hannah had that vibe about it. Technically, we were together – hanging out, cooking supper, watching Hallmark movies, making out a little – but it didn’t feel real and I couldn’t relax. She’d shown me how quick she’d cut me out, so this wasn’t a relationship I felt secure in. Guess I deserved that for being a giant, blind asshole.
Daddy always joked about being rafted up to Mama, but we didn’t look anything like my mama and daddy. Before Mama was killed, she’d been Daddy’s safe place and he hers. I’d been safe, too, sheltered in the middle. Then Mama was killed, and that safety had been ripped away. Daddy hadn’t been able to live unmoored from Mama.
Hannah and I weren’t rafted up. Instead, we’d agreed to use the same dock, kinda. Tied off separately, but not moored to each other.
She could cast me off in a second.
So I had her, but I didn’t have her. Sometimes that swamped me with a crazy, sad fear so I strong I couldn’t breathe.
Sunday night, while we were trying out a ravioli recipe, she’d decreed we weren’t paying any attention to Elizabeth. So now I was checking out the channel on the downlow, watching those comments. Elizabeth hadn’t posted anything new, other than a thirty-second teaser that elicited a gazillion fawning comments. Monday, I’d shifted back to spending my nights at the cabin.
The sex had dried up. On the couch, we were pretty circumspect. I dropped my arm around her; she leaned into me.We made out a couple of times, and each time, Hannah pulled back.
I didn’t know what we were doing, and I couldn’t ask. I’d screwed up too bad that night back at the Millhouse to have the right to ask.
So I drifted at the end of my rope, sometimes bumping up against the dock, but never really touching Hannah.
I hated it. I was lonely as I’d ever been, maybe more because once I’d been rafted up to Hannah and I’d cut the rope myself. Now I just waited to be cast off.
All that ran through my head while I sat on Hannah’s couch, where I’d parked my ass after a long, shitty Saturday on the farm – a whole flipping section of pecan seedlings had died overnight, the new kid we’d hired had bogged down a tractor in a field, and somehow a couple of the Angus had knocked down a fence and gotten out on 19. You name it, and it had gone wrong. Now I was flipping through channels and waiting for Hannah to get ready. Sara wanted to try out the new beer garden in Moultrie, and Andy and Grace were tagging along. Hannah hadn’t been excited about the evening out, but at least she wasn’t insisting on staying home, either.
I slumped deeper into the cushions. Fucking Elizabeth. Fuckingme.Hell, I’d cut me loose if I was her. I didn’t deserve her. How was I ever going to make her happy?
Headlights flashed over the picture window – Andy and Grace’s SUV swinging into the drive.
“Hannah.” I yelled over my shoulder as the thud of car doors slamming echoed outside. “Your sister’s here.”
“I’m almost ready.” Her muffled voice trailed down the hall. “Let them in.”
I swung the door open before Andy could knock. His hand at Grace’s hip, he nudged her ahead of him. They’d been togetherforever – since mine and Hannah’s senior year of high school – but he was always touching her. If he wasn’t touching her, Grace’s hands were on him somehow, like they couldn’t bear not to be in some kind of contact. Yeah, Hannah and I didn’t look like them, either.
“Hey.” I jerked a thumb toward the hall. “Hannah’s still getting ready.”
“These are cute.” Grace fingered the edge of a rosemary plant, a trio of herbs I’d brought Hannah today. The burlap-wrapped pots had raffia bows around them, one of Emma Yager’s marketing ideas. “Are they from the farm?”
“Yeah. New stock.” I shrugged. “Thought Hannah’d like them.”
“That’s sweet.” She swept a measuring look over me then tiptoed up to kiss Andy. “I’m going to see what’s keeping Hannah.”
I went back to my spot on the couch, and Andy dropped into the armchair. He glanced at me sideways. “The Hallmark Channel?”
“Habit.” I passed him the remote.
“Gracie likes ‘em, too.” He squinted at the guide, his haircut so fresh he had a hint of a tan line above his ears and collar. I got it – harvest season meant hours outside and too few minutes to get in a barbershop chair. “They’re all right except for that one where the guy can’t sing.”
I knew exactly which movie he meant. “Shit, he’s awful.”
Andy settled on the Clemson game. “How’s things at the farm?”
“Probably about like things at the gin. Busy.” Now, talking farmwork? I could relax around that. “How’d you get a night off, anyway?”
