Page 49 of Hannah.
“Hey,” she greets, a casual smile on her lips. Her attire, a simple sweatshirt and leggings, make my blood heat. The soft curves of her legs and hips are so distracting that I’m afraid I might lose any idea of what I’ve called her here for in the first place.
My eyes linger for a moment longer than intended as she steps inside. She’s effortlessly stunning…always has been.
“Make yourself comfortable,” I offer, gesturing towards the couch. “I opened a bottle of red for us. Let me get you a glass.”
Hannah’s eyes are soft as she looks at me. “That sounds lovely.”
As she settles in, I find myself studying her, searching for cues in the subtle nuances of her expression. So far, I see no signs of guilt or suspicion in her, meaning she’s about to be blindsided. But what else can I do?
The wineglass clinks as I hand it to her. “Thanks,” she says, her fingers grazing mine for a fleeting moment. The touch sends a shiver through me, making me want more, even though this is likely the worst possible time.
I sit beside her and watch her look around, the silence stretching. How in the hell am I supposed to start this conversation?
“So, Johan,” she begins, a curious glint in her eyes. “What did you want to talk about regarding Amelia? Did you find those missing research files?”
I offer a half-smile. “Before we dive into that, are you hungry? I’ve got some cheese that pairs well with this wine. Brie, Gouda, or cheddar?”
Her hesitation is palpable, and I seize the opportunity to create a momentary diversion. Rising from the couch, I head to the kitchen, grateful for the respite. I know good and well that I’m stalling, but I can’t help myself. Why is this so difficult?
Returning to the couch, I find her waiting, questions in her gaze, no doubt because of how strangely I’m acting. I deposit the cheeseboard between us.
“Thanks,” she says again.
As we settle into the conversation, Hannah makes another attempt to steer it toward Amelia. “I appreciate the snacks andwine, but I really want to know what you’ve discovered about Amelia. The mystery is all I’ve been able to think about.”
I let out a heavy sigh, setting my glass down with deliberate care. It’s time to confront the shadows that have been cast over our interactions. “Hannah,” I begin, my voice carrying a weight I hadn’t intended. “Can we talk about your collection? Those treasures you showed me in your room. Where did you really get them?”
Caught off guard, she stumbles through a series of vague explanations as if desperately trying to concoct a story on the spot. “Oh, you know…I pick them up here and there…people drop things all the time…”
I reach for her hand, putting mine on top of hers. “Hannah, stop,” I interject gently, gaze locking onto hers. “I know the truth.”
There’s a silence between us that feels like it goes on forever. Finally, I muster the words that have been lingering at the edge of my tongue, “Why did you steal those objects? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
She shifts uncomfortably, feigning innocence. “What are you talking about? I haven’t stolen anything.” I almost think I catch her eyes dart to the floor after she answers.
I let out a dry, bitter chuckle. “Don’t play games. I’ve seen the footage—twice—at the exhibitions. You were there both times.”
Her eyes widen with a mix of surprise and panic, but she sticks to her denials. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why would I steal anything?”
I lean forward, keeping my eyes fixed on her. “I’ve spent hours trying to understand why. The missing bracelet, the disappearing watch. And both times, you were present. Did you really believe that I wouldn’t notice that?”
Hannah’s gaze falters, and she opens her mouth as if she’s about to insist on her innocence once more, but nothing comes out.
“You can’t keep denying it,” I assert as she attempts to sidestep the issue. “I’ve seen the footage. You were there.”
She stands abruptly, a clear attempt to escape the confrontation. “I don’t have to sit here and listen to this nonsense.” She seethes, using anger to hide her fight and agitation. Hannah is in fight-or-flight mode, and if I don’t move fast, she’ll escape, and I’ll lose my chance.
I rise, too, blocking her path. “You can’t just walk away from this, Hannah. I need to understand.”
Her eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape route. “I can’t explain it. It’s complicated.”
I remain steadfast, imploring her to open up. Slowly, I put my hands on her shoulders, hating that she flinches at my touch. “You can trust me. I won’t throw you under the bus. But I need to know why.”
She sighs, defeated and miserable. “Fine, I took them. What does it matter anyway?” Her eyes narrow. “Are you going to turn me to the campus police or something?”
“No, of course not. I meant it when I said you could trust me.” Even though I already knew in my heart that she was guilty, the admission still hits me like a blow, but I maintain my composure. “Why, though? Why risk so much?”
She shrugs, a nonchalant gesture that is in complete opposition to how stiff she is under my hands. “I don’t know. I see something I like, and I take it. Simple as that.”