Page 109 of Just My Type
“The only unfinished business we have is the kind where I tell you that I should have left you years before I did. You’re an asshole, Brett. A misogynistic fuckhead who couldn’t handle the fact that I’m smarter and more successful than you could ever hope to be. Mylittle romance writing hobby, like you enjoyed calling it, makes more money in a month than you make in a year, and your ego just couldn’t take it. It’s too bad for you that smut sells, and I’m really good at writing it.”
Hannah puts a hand on her hip and gives Brett a steely glare that makes me want to stand up and cheer. “You never wanted me for me. You wanted me because I did your laundry and made your coffee and fed your damn cat. I did fucking everything for you, and it still wasn’t enough. You took and took and took until I didn’t have anything left to give, and even then, you took some more. And you know what? Maybe you did me a favor, because when I thought I was running away from you, it turned out that I was actually running towards something else. Towards a brand-new life with friends and family who accept me for exactly who I am and never ask me to be someone I’m not. Who give instead of take. Towards someone who treats me the way I deserve to be treated. I know what that looks like now.”
Hannah looks back and locks eyes with me, and the emotions swirling in her gaze have my heart galloping in my chest, arms aching to get around her as she turns back to Brett. “And it doesn’t look anything like what you gave me. So unfinished business? No Brett, we don’t have any more of that. Showing up here, at my sister’s wedding? It’s sad and pathetic, and I’d say it was beneath you, but I’m not sure there’s anything beneath you when you’re already the lowest of the low.” Hannah pauses, her lips curving into a smirk before going in for the kill. “And talk about a second-rate lay.”
Brett’s face goes crimson as someone behind me—Cooper I think—lets out a low, appreciative whistle and Hannah takes a step back, wrapping an arm around my waist and leaning into me. I kiss the top of her head before standing straight and facing Brett. “So, as my sister-in-law so aptly put it before, get the fuck out.”
“What did you say?” Brett sneers at me, and Jesus, this guy really needs to get a fucking clue.
“I said that literally no one wants you here, least of all my girl, and she’s the most important one of all. Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
I don’t know why my words are the thing that sends him over the edge, but Brett braces as if he’s about to lunge at me. I’ve never been much of a fighter, and the last thing Hannah needs to see is more violence, but I can’t say I would hate it if I got to lay Brett out for everything he did to Hannah. Brett starts to move, his eyes fixed on me and his arm cocking back as if he’s about to throw a punch.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Before Brett can reach me, Cece, in all her five-foot two-inch swirling rainbow chiffon glory, comes flying in front of Hannah and me. I’ve barely had a second to figure out what the fuck is going on before the crack of skin-on-skin echoes through the hallway, and a startled yelp comes from Brett as he grabs his cheek with one hand and stares, incredulously, at my grandmother.
Cece lets out a very grandmotherly and very unlike hertsk, shaking her head in a show of disappointment that Hannah, apparently, finds hilarious because she lets out a snort of laughter, her shoulders shaking as she tries, and fails, to hold it in.
“Now then,” Cece says, her eyes fixed on Brett. “I could see that my grandson here was about to give you exactly what you deserve, but I didn’t want him to have to do that. Lucky for all of us, I’ve always had a good slap. I knew right from the second Hannah came to us that eventually you would come crawling out of whatever hole you were hiding in to cause trouble, and I’d like to say I’m sorry for hurting you but, well, I’m not.”
Cece grins and shrugs. “You interrupted my grandson’s wedding, and you tried to hurt someone who has become very, very important to me. When you mess with one member of this family, you mess with all of us.”
At Cece’s words, an echo of my own thoughts from before, I hear Hannah’s sharp inhale. Feel the emotion coming off her in waves. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and hold her close to me, letting the solid weight of her settle my nerves.
She’s here.
She’s safe.
She’s mine.
“Now,” Cece says, pinning Brett with a stare as she crosses her arms over her chest and taps her toe on the marble floor like this is all extremely inconvenient. “Are you going to leave quietly, or do I have to tell my four very tall and very fit grandsons to haul your ass out of here? You’re fairly short, you know, and it doesn’t seem like you’ve got much muscle to you. I’m sure they won’t have much trouble at all tossing you right out on your ass.”
“Fucking fine,” Brett spits out, throwing his hands up in the air. He has the audacity to look aggrieved, like he’s the injured party in all of this. Did I already say fuck this guy? Because, seriously, fuck this guy. He looks at Hannah and he tries to go for indifferent, but I can see the rage simmering underneath thewhoeven caresattitude. “You’re not worth it. You were never my type anyway.”
I tug Hannah closer and kiss her temple before grinning at Brett in a way I know will enrage him even more. “Lucky me, then, because she’s just my type. And she’s worth everything.”
A low growl comes from Brett’s throat before he stalks away. I don’t even have to look at my dad and brothers before the four of them are following Brett, making sure he leaves the museum.
Once they’re out of sight, Hannah collapses against me, and in one second flat I have her wrapped up, one arm around her waist and the other hand tangled in her hair, holding her against me. She lets out a slow, shaky breath as her arms wind around my waist. She’s shaking from the adrenaline crash, and to be honest, I kind of am a little bit too.
And I’m relieved. I’m fucking relieved because Hannah is here and she’s okay, and she’s with me. Exactly where I hope she’ll stay.
Forever, if I get my way.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
NOAH
“You’re fucking amazing, Hannah,” I murmur into her ear. “Strong and powerful and brave as fuck.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice muffled by my chest. “I couldn’t have stood up to him without you.”
I kiss the top of her head, breathing her in, letting her vanilla scent surround me. “You could have. You can do anything. But I’ll always be there for you. Always. I swear it. Did he hurt you?”
I pull away and gently take her wrists, examining the sensitive skin, kissing the red marks he left there.
Hannah cups my face in her hands, her eyes locking with mine, turning fierce. “He didn’t. I swear. He scared me, but he didn’t hurt me. He can’t. He won’t.”
“Damn straight he won’t.” My mom speaks for the first time, wrapping Hannah in a hug and then cupping Hannah’s face and studying her. “I’m so proud of you, honey. Standing up to him like that. It was a sight to see. You were glorious.”
