Page 11 of Stick With Me
Once I’m in the Palm Beach area, I add a stop to the GPS to pick up something guaranteed to make Hannah smile. I make it there right before they close, securing the goods I pre-ordered. I place the box on the passenger seat and resume driving.
Following the navigation, I drive into a gated community, where houses circle a massive pond with a water fountain in the middle. All the homes look like carbon copies of one another, all McMansions in a Spanish style, light stucco with terracotta-tiled roofs. I could easily afford a place like this now, but it’s worlds apart from how I grew up.
My chest tightens as I park and make my way to the front door. I raise my hand to knock, but before my fist connects with the wood surface, the door swings open. Hannah’s mother greets me—or maybe “greet” isn’t the right word. She stares before letting out a resigned sigh and opening the door wide. “Ryan, come in. Hannah will be down in a minute.”
She’s just like I remember her from the few times we met during college drop-offs. She has the same dark-blonde hair and lightly freckled skin as Hannah.
“Thanks, Mrs. Clarke. How are you?” I straighten my posture, hoping to make a good impression.
“I’m well. I was surprised to hear you were in the area.” She fluffs the already perfect flowers sitting on the foyer table, not meeting my eye.
“Yeah, me too. I mean, I’m excited to be here, but it was a shock for sure.”
“Yes, a shock indeed.” She shoots me an assessing look.
I shove my hands into my pockets, determined not to fidget under her scrutiny.
“I’m sure you think you’re clever, sweeping in like a knight in shining armor. But it’s only a matter of time before Hannah and Jace reunite. It’d be best not to ruffle any feathers in the meantime.” She somehow manages to sound polite despite the barb.
I was nervous my reception wouldn’t be warm, given that I’m a hockey player—and another one just broke her daughter’s heart—but is she seriously defendinghim? If it were my daughter, I’d be kicking his ass.
Thankfully, I’m spared from responding when I catch sight of Hannah making her way down the spiral staircase.
Video calls don’t do her justice. She’s even more beautiful than the last time I saw her. Although maybe thinner. I like her better with her soft curves. Her dirty-blonde hair is down in windblown waves, like she spent the day on the beach. Her face is sun-kissed, freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose and flushed cheeks. Dressed in distressed jean shorts and an oversized tee, her legs are tan and look incredibly soft, making me want to run my finger up them. Her feet are clad in her signature slip-on Vans.
She’s absolutely breathtaking.
I unconsciously make my way to the stairs, where she halts on the last step. She’s still shorter than me, even with the boost. Her dark lashes shadow the most uniquely bright shade of green, like a dewy blade of spring grass. Fuck, I’ve missed her.
“Are you ready to go?” she prompts with a knowing smirk on her face. I must look like a chump, shamelessly taking her in from head to toe.
“Yep.” I give her a quick hug. Not nearly enough to satisfy my need for her, but I’d prefer not to have an audience, so I place my hand on her lower back and lead her out the door.
FIVE
As soon asI hear the front door shut behind me, strong arms wrap around my waist and I’m lifted off my feet. Ryan hugs me from behind and spins. I feel tiny and secure tucked into his big body. A genuine laugh escapes me, catching me off guard. It’s the closest to joy I’ve felt since the breakup.
“Hannah Banana, it’s so good to see you.” His deep voice rings in my ear, as his minty breath fans the side of my face.
“Still with the nicknames.” I try to sound stern, but my giggle betrays me.
He places me back on my feet, and I turn, giving him a proper hug. I pull back to see his face but don’t release the hold I have on the back of his neck. He’s so handsome. I’ve always thought so. He has a scruffy charm yet manages to look polished at the same time. One of the lucky ones who can roll out of bed and still somehow look put together. “It’s good to see you too, Ry. So where are we off to?”
“Well, I thought we could pick up a pizza and beer and have a picnic on the beach. Does that sound okay?”
“Sounds perfect. You know I will never say no to pizza. There’s a great place not far from here. I’ll direct you.” I head toward the Jeep while pulling out my phone to place a pickup order.
He follows me to the passenger’s side, which I find strange. How sad that a man opening a door for me is out of the ordinary. Even after years in Texas, none of the Southern charm rubbed off on Jace—he never picked up the memo about opening doors, pulling out chairs, or walking on the street side.
Even as a college kid, Ryan always did those little things, but it’s been so long since we’ve spent real time together that I’d forgotten.
Ryan opens the door and reaches around me, grabbing a white pastry box from the seat before placing it in my hands. There’s an embossed sticker I would recognize anywhere: Le Petit Sweet.
I blink, trying to clear the blur from my eyes, but the tightness in my throat only gets worse. Why is such a small gesture making me so emotional? I can’t remember the last time Jace did something small yet thoughtful. With him, everything was for appearance’s sake, another scene for the public to witness.
I hate that no matter how hard I try to shake him from my mind, everything circles back to him. Why didn’t he ever see me the way I needed to be seen? Why did he make me feel like I was never enough? Why didn’t he bring my favorite brownies just to put a smile on my face? Even if it’s an overly emotional, teary-eyed one. Most importantly, why did I just accept the crumbs he offered without question?
“You got me a brownie?” I ask, looking up at Ryan.
