Page 68 of Just My Type
“For the last couple months before I came to Boston, we never had sex. Brett was shitty in bed anyway, so it’s not like I was missing anything, and we were barely speaking at that point. We were just two people existing in the same space, and I was already struggling to write anything at all, so that was where all my focus was. One night, he went out with some friends and came back drunk. It was late, but I was up reading when he came in and tried to start something. I’d had a really bad writing night, and I was frustrated and anxious about it, and it was easier to just go along with Brett than try to explain to him that I wasn’t in the mood. So, I did. He…”
She breaks off, breath hitching, and I pull her closer to me, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her head, even as my own heart pounds. “You’re okay. You’re safe. Take it slow.”
She lays a head on my shoulder, taking a deep breath and holding onto my hand for dear life. “He just wanted to get off. He didn’t care about me at all, but that was nothing new, so I thought, whatever, you know? But then he was inside me and it felt so wrong.”
Hannah’s voice breaks, and I feel a tear fall onto my shoulder. I loop an arm around her waist and tug her around until she’s straddling me, her head laying on my chest. “I’ve got you,” I say, kissing the top of her head.
The breath she lets out sounds like relief. “I wasn’t ready for him and it kind of hurt, and I just wanted him off of me. Out of me. I told him to stop, and he didn’t. I thought maybe he didn’t hear me, so I told him again. That time I knew he heard me because he laughed. He laughed at me and kept going. He grabbed my wrists and trapped them above my head and told me to stop being such a frigid bitch. That I was his. He was holding me so tightly, and he wouldn’t let go.”
Hannah’s tears are falling fast, her voice ragged and broken as she tries to get the words out, and I have never felt so helpless in my entire life. I want to fly to Pittsburgh right now and beat the shit out of Brett. I want to force Hannah to press charges against that asshole and get him thrown behind bars for the rest of his miserable life. Most of all, I want to protect Hannah and keep her safe and promise her that nothing bad will ever happen to her again. But I can’t do any of that right now. All I can do in this moment is hold her and stroke her hair and her back and be here to bear witness to her pain while she tells me about the worst moment of her life.
It doesn’t feel like nearly enough.
“It hurt,” she continues, voice small. “His hands kept getting tighter and tighter around my wrists, and it hurt so badly. I couldn’t move. Between his hands and his body on mine, I couldn’t get away, and I felt trapped. Then I started to panic. I don’t know how I managed it because I couldn’t breathe, but somehow I got a leg between his and kneed him in the balls. I guess it was hard enough to hurt because he let go of my hands and I was able to shove him off me, and I ran out of our bedroom and locked myself in my office. I stayed there all night, until I heard Brett leave for work in the morning. Then I packed a bag and got in my car and drove here, to Boston. I don’t even remember the drive. All I remember is pulling up at your mom’s house and walking in to book club. Then you and your brothers showed up and you saw the bruises and, yeah, you know the rest. He never stopped texting me to come back, but I ignored all of them. It took me a long time to work up the nerve to finally contact him to break up officially. That’s what I went back to Pittsburgh to do last spring, but I lost the nerve to talk to him face to face and ended up texting him that we were over. Not that there was anything left to end, but I felt like I had to make it official. Then I went to the house when I knew he’d be at work and got the rest of my stuff. I stayed with Hallie for awhile, and then I came back here.” Hannah takes another deep breath, her face turning from devastated to angry in a flash.
“God,” she spits out. “I hate that I did that. I hate that I couldn’t face him, almost as much as I hate what he did. What he took from me. I’ve spent so much time feeling sorry for myself, and feeling broken, that I haven’t been able to feel mad and fuck, Noah. I’m so mad. I’m so mad I don’t even know what I’m mad about, and I don’t have anywhere to put it, so I just walk around with barely concealed rage all the time, and I hate it. And I hate him. This. All of it. Fuck. Anyway, that’s it. The whole sordid tale.”
Hannah takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. I can practically see the physical effort she makes to bury that rage, yet again.
“Hannah,” I say, my voice soft as I absorb the enormity of her story. “I am so, so sorry that happened to you. It shouldn’t have happened to you, and you are entitled to every single bit of your anger. To every single feeling you have. I’m angry for you. I’m angrywithyou. Thank you for telling me everything. I know it took a lot of courage for you to share this with me, and I promise I’ll keep your truth safe.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
HANNAH
Ipromise I’ll keep your truth safe.
Noah’s words help quell the burning embers of my rage, burrowing into my chest and filling a place in me that I never thought would be full again. I feel flayed open from sharing my darkest moment with him, but I also feel lighter. Unburdened, almost. Like the story was weighing me down, but now I have someone to help shoulder the weight of it. But not just any someone.
Noah.
Sitting up from my spot against his chest, straddling his legs, my heart thuds when our eyes meet. I expected to see concern. Pity maybe. I dreaded both, but right now, I see neither. What I do see has my stomach flipping, my breath catching.
I could love this manis the only thought in my head.
I think it’s possible I already do.
“I know you will. Thank you for listening. Really listening and not doing that man thing and threatening to drive to Pittsburgh right now and beat the shit out of Brett or bury him in a shallow grave or whatever.”
Noah laughs a little, tugging me closer to him and wrapping an arm around my waist, bringing our bodies flush. He strokes a hand down my face, pushing my hair behind my ear. “I think the last thing you need is another man swinging his dick around and threatening violence. Besides, if you wanted Brett to be beaten down or buried in a shallow grave, you would just do it yourself.”
“You think?” I ask, noting that I really like the way Noah sees me. That maybe under the layers of writer’s block and a terrible relationship that ended violently and all the fallout, the person he sees is the real me. And I think with him, I could find that person again.
I’ve missed her.
“I know,” he says, his face serious. “You amaze me, Hannah. You are so strong and brilliant and talented, and you have a big, beautiful heart. It takes grit and courage to leave a situation that’s wrong for you and to remake your life into something else.”
I roll my eyes because, get real. “I stayed in a relationship with a certified asshole for three years longer than I should have, and then when it ended in spectacularly terrible fashion, I escaped to Boston to hide out in a borrowed apartment in my sister’s house for six months while I tried, and failed, to write a book.”
“No way, Han.” Noah runs his hands up and down my arms. “You removed yourself from a relationship when it wasn’t serving you and left a place you needed distance from. You came to Boston because you knew you had people here who would support you, you’re living in an apartment I’m almost positive Cece and her psychic streak was saving just for you, and you’re building a new life that looks exactly the way you want it to. And you’re not failing at writing. You have an opportunity to sell your series to a publisher, and you’ve written more than ten chapters in a brand-new book. And even though you won’t let me read them yet, I already know they’re amazing. You’re living, Han,exactly the way you want to live, and it’s perfect. I’m so glad I get to watch you do it.”
My eyes burn and I close them, absorbing his words, feeling his thumb brush against my cheek, wiping away the tear that escapes. “Thank you,” I mutter, bringing my forehead to his. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I think you’re my favorite person on earth.”
Noah leans up and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Gorgeous, you’ve been my favorite since you caught myNotting Hillreference three years ago at the bar. You didn’t have to do anything except be yourself. And the showtunes karaoke in Vegas didn’t hurt. Your turn as drunk Sandy was hot as fuck. And I really like the thing where you drunk married me and became my wife.”
“Your temporary wife,” I say, even as a smile curves my lips.
Noah chuckles, kissing the corner of my mouth. “We’ll see.”
