Page 42 of See It Through

I lifted a shoulder. “You brought up your ass. I just told you what I thought of it.”

Hair whipping behind her back, she groaned. “Don’t be cute, Remington. Unlike my brother, I can hold a grudge until the end of time.”

“I thought we were past that.”

“We were, until that kis—forget it. Just stop looking at my ass and take your turn.” She stalked over to the high-top table we’d set our drinks on and took a long swallow of the bright red concoction she called a drink.

The next two shots were mine. I took my time with them, drawing out the game as long as I could. After this, I had no doubt Hannah would hightail it out of here, and I’d drive back to the house. To the quiet and solitude I didn’t think I’d ever get used to again. Too many years at the center of the action had me seeking a piece of that. It was how I’d ended up at Joy’s the last few nights. That, and I’d suspected I’d eventually run into Hannah again since our paths seemed to be on a collision course lately.

We traded places when I missed. I took a pull from my beer while Hannah bent over the table again, her ass angled away from me this time.

“When did you leave the ranch?” I asked.

She straightened, holding her cue in one hand. “A few years back. Maccie moved to one of the staff cabins when he came back from college, and Phe rented the apartment below the one that’s now mine to be close to Sugar Rush. It was just me, Mom, and Dad for a while. I hadn’t really considered moving, but Graham had told me it was time to go.”

Surprise and mistrust tightened my gut. “What gave him the right to tell you that?”

The curve of her mouth was bitter, but her eyes turned wistful and distant. “You ever work with anyone day in, day out for years?”

A few faces ran through my mind, catching on one. Logan. He hadn’t made it out of the crash that almost killed me.

Yeah, now wasn’t the time to think about Logan. I’d save that for when I was trying to go to sleep and all I could do was stare at the ceiling, imagining his final minutes.

I cleared my throat, shaking off the memories. “I’d always end up in the same places with the same people.”

“You bonded?”

“It wasn’t an office situation where we sat around during our lunch breaks and shot the shit.”

She cocked her head, waiting for me to answer her. I dug deep, thought about what a bond meant. I couldn’t say I’d been friends with most of the journalists I’d spent time with, but there were shared experiences that had made us understand each other in a way outsiders never could.

I blew out a breath. “We bonded.”

Her nod was decisive. “That was me and Graham. He rode with me to see my clients, helped me out when I needed it. That put us in my truck every day on long, open roads. We talked. A lot. Eventually, he knew me as well as my blood family. So, when he told me it was time to move on and give my parents the privacy they deserved after raising four and a half kids—you’re the half, by the way—I listened. Besides, he’d been right. Lucky for me, the apartment above Phe’s was put up for rent, so I snagged it and have been there ever since.”

I swallowed a thick shard of rock. My father had never given me a lick of advice. I’d never given him the opportunity. For the first time since returning to Sugar Brush, a sense of loss crept in. Doubt over my choice to never look back dimmed my edges. The version of Graham Hannah spoke of was so foreign I couldn’t even begin to fathom the kind of advice he would have given me if he’d had the chance. Would I have taken it? I couldn’t say, and now, I’d never know.

Hannah released a light, airy giggle, bringing me out of my thoughts. “I don’t want to even think about what my parents are doing with the house to themselves. One time, I showed up without calling first, and…well, let’s just say those two crazy kids are still very into each other.”

I had no choice but to laugh with her. “Good for them. Don’t wanna think about it either, but I’m happy they have something rare like that.”

“Rare is right.” She emptied her glass and slammed it down on the table beside my beer. “Take your shot, Remington.”

I grinned. “Every time you say my full name, I hear it as a cuss word.”

“Good.” She returned my grin. “That’s my intention. But out of curiosity, which one?”

A laugh from deep in my chest shook my shoulders as I released it. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so hard or loud. Maybe never. Hannah had a way of chipping away at me, cracking open parts I’d abandoned long ago.

“Starts with anf, sweetheart,” I finally managed to say.

She giggled. “The right one, then.” Then she reached for her glass, frowning when she found it empty, like she’d forgotten she’d drunk it all.

I nodded toward the full beer beside mine. “Take that one. It was meant for Cormac before he cut out early.”

She yanked her hand away from the table like she’d touched something hot. “Oh no. I’m good. Thanks for the offer.”

“Not a beer fan?”