“Good. They can come with me to have coffee with my friends. Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but I grew up in this world. I know how things work. I’m used to having bodyguards.” She hooks her purse strap over her shoulder and pushes past me to leave.
"Wait." I catch her wrist as she reaches for the door handle. Her skin burns against my palm, and I force myself to loosen my grip. "I had plans for us today."
Hannah stiffens but doesn't pull away. "Plans?"
“We need a place to live. I set up some house showings." I clear my throat, hyper-aware of how small her wrist feels in my hand.
She stares up at me with narrowed eyes. Like she’s assessing me, deciding whether I’m telling the truth or not. “So, you’re going to stick around after all?”
Fucking hell. She did overhear me telling Phoenix I couldn’t go through with this marriage. I wish I could get out of it, mostly because I know that by staying in the marriage, I’ll only hurt her more. But I’m trapped. And I have a mission.
“Yes. We’re married now and need a home.”
“What time is the appointment?”
“This afternoon.”
“Give me the time and location. I’ll meet you there.” She slips her wrist from my grip, and the loss of contact leaves me feeling cold.
She exits the bedroom, heading to the door of our hotel suite. She moves with that natural grace that draws my eye even when I'm trying not to look. Her scent lingers, fresh and sweet. Thememory of how she felt in my arms… of how she tasted… of how much I needed to sink inside her floods my brain. Would it hurt to give into it? Especially if she wants some semblance of a marriage.
But as soon as I think that, I dismiss it. Hannah became a bigger target for the Keans the moment we married. Pushing her away is the only way I can keep myself sane and follow through on the mission. I can’t let myself get close to her because I won’t risk losing someone I love again.
When the door shuts behind her, I pull out my phone and text to security to keep her safe. I head to the mini bar needing a drink when I see Phoenix is still here, lounging on the couch looking at something on his phone.
"Trouble in paradise?" He gives me a knowing smirk that I want to punch off his face.
"Shut up." I grab a glass and then hunt through the mini-fridge for something 100-proof.
"She's not Meghan, you know."
"Don't."
"You can't keep punishing yourself." Phoenix rises from the couch. "Or her."
I fight against the images of Meghan, some good, some horrific.
"Hannah's different," Phoenix continues. "She's alive, Ash. Maybe you can’t love her, but the girl deserves to be treated with respect."
This is what I get for calling Phoenix at four in the morning to tell him I can’t follow through on this marriage. When I left last night, I should have kept going. Left town. Never looked back.
But of course I can’t abandon my brothers. Nor can I let the Keans get away with having murdered my parents and Meghan. So here I am, back where I started.
"That's the problem." The words scrape my throat. Hannah is a vibrant, passionate woman, full of light. Just like Meghan was. And look what happened to her.
"The Keans took Meghan from you. I get it." Phoenix's voice softens. "But pushing Hannah away won't bring her back."
I down a glass of whiskey as Hannah's tears flash through my mind, mixing with memories of smoke and screams. The guilt churns in my stomach. Guilt over wanting her, over betraying Meghan's memory.
But it's more than that. Hannah's warmth draws me in, making me want things I can't have. She deserves better than a man haunted by ghosts, fighting a war that's already claimed one woman he loved.
"She reminds me of her sometimes." The confession slips out. "Not looks, but… that fire inside. The way she lights up a room."
Phoenix stays quiet for a moment. “Is it the betrayal or that she reminds you of Meghan? Like by giving in to Hannah, you’re substituting, which isn’t fair to either of them?” He takes the second glass of whisky I’ve poured from me. “To be honest, I don’t see the resemblance.” He downs my drink.
“I don’t want to talk?—”
“Meghan wouldn’t have told you off like Hannah did. She wouldn’t have asserted herself.”
