Page 98 of Just My Type
Me
How can you make literally anything sound dirty?
Noah
It’s a gift.
Me
I’m taking the deal, officially. My agent is my next text.
Noah
Goddamn right you are. And the day the new publisher publishes your first book, we’re taking a road trip to see it in every bookstore we can find.
Me
Now that is a road trip I can get behind.
Noah
You’re amazing. Brilliant. Absolute utter perfection.
And mine.
You’re fucking mine, Hannah.I adore you.
“What’s going on with your face?” I whip around to see Hallie leaning against the doorframe, grinning at me.
“That’s her Noah face.” Jo pops up behind Hallie, standing there with a matching grin.
I beam at both of them, not even bothering to protest that it’s not, in fact, my Noah face because it so is. But it’s also something else. “It’s also myI finished my bookface.”
“Fuck yes!” Jo shrieks, bouncing into the room and taking a flying leap onto the bed next to me, tackling me in a hug.
As if such a thing were possible, Hallie’s grin spreads wider as she comes in and drops down on my other side. I never told her I was having trouble writing, but I’m positive Jo took care of that for me. “Happy looks good on you, Hans.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” I say, leaning a head on Hallie’s shoulder as Jo takes my hand. A comfortable silence falls between us as the three of us sit there, connected. And I don’t know whether it’s the three of us being together for the first time in a while, or the fact that I finished my book, or Brett being out of my life forever, but my mouth opens and words I don’t expect come right out.
“I’ve been keeping something from you both,” I start, looking back and forth between them. “Something I want to tell you now. It’s about Brett.”
I feel both of my sisters sit up straight, as if they know what I’m about to tell them is heavy, and they are preparing themselves to carry my burden. I love them so much. I scoot back on the bed, curling my legs under me so the three of us sit in a circle on the bed. And with a deep breath, I open my mouth and tell them everything. The truth about my relationship. How unhappy I was for so, so long. How resentful Brett was about my writing. How much he tore me down. How I pretended it didn’t bother me instead of what it really was, which is death by a thousand pounds of mental load and tiptoeing around his anger. His hands around my wrists at the bar, and the way Noah found us. The downward spiral. How writing got hard and then how Icouldn’t do it at all, because of him. The final night. Hands around my wrists and hips pinning me down. Brett ignoring the wordstop. The real reason I went to Boston.
I look down at my hands. At the nails I painted bright purple earlier tonight during our manicure party—Jo’s big fuck you to our mom who insisted that we all have nails professionally done for the wedding in the most boring neutral shades imaginable. Then I look back up at my sisters, who are watching me not with pity, but with a love so intense it has my heart clenching.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. Sharing parts of my life doesn’t come naturally to me, and I just felt…stupid I guess? I knew my relationship wasn’t healthy. I knew that it didn’t make me feel the way a good relationship should make you feel. I was anxious all the time unless I was writing, and then I couldn’t write and I was terrified but god, I was so angry too. I’m still sorting all of that out. But more, I was embarrassed. I always thought I was an anxious person, but it turns out that all my anxiety came from him. What kind of person doesn’t leave her boyfriend after he puts bruises on her wrists in public? Who stays for so many years after that?”
I take a long, slow breath and let it out, and when I do, it feels like I’m exhaling a weight I didn’t even realize I was still carrying.
“No.” Hallie’s voice is serious, her eyes fierce as she takes my hand, holding it tightly. “It’s not your fault, Hannah. None of this is your fault. You didn’t deserve any of it, and you made what felt like the right decision at the time. And when you were ready, you made a different choice. You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. Not ever, and definitely not with us. I’m proud of you, Hans. So fucking proud of you.”
“Me too,” Jo says, wiping under her eyes, catching the tears that escape and then taking my other hand. “But you need to know that I would be proud of you even if you never wrote another word, ever again. I know opening up doesn’t come naturally to you, and I’m really glad you did. You’re my sister, Hans.One of my very favorite people in the world, and I’ll always be here for you.”
“Always.” Hallie squeezes my hand. “I might not live where you live, but I’m always just a phone call away. I’m really glad you told us too, and also that you ditched Brett because fuck that guy.”
“Are you okay?” Jo asks, voice uncharacteristically quiet. When I turn to her, she has concern written all over her face. “Because what Brett did was not okay at all. It was assault, Hannah. Brett assaulted you.”
I shake my head, my brain rejecting that word just like it rejected the wordtraumawhen Cece said it to me a few weeks ago.
