I Want to Hold Your Hand (21 page)

Amelia handed it to her. On the front, in Caleb’s familiar handwriting, were the words “For Hannah. Worst Case.”

“Oh my God,” Hannah whispered when she realized what it was. “You’ve had it all this time?”

Amelia wiped the tears from her cheeks. “He was very clear about when I was to give it to you. Not until it seemed like you were doing better and ready to hear what he had to say.”

“Do you know what it says?”

Amelia shook her head. “That’s between the two of you.”

“I . . . I should go.”

“Are you okay to drive, Hannah?” Bob asked, looking at her with concern.

“I’m fine.”

“Please tell me you’re not angry with me,” Amelia said. “He was very adamant about how and when he wanted you to have that letter.”

“Of course I’m not angry,” Hannah said, hugging her mother-in-law. “You think I don’t know how he could be?”

“You knew better than anyone,” Amelia said with a tearful laugh.

She left them and drove home thinking about the letter Caleb had left for her and trying to process the fact that Nolan had gone to them, seeking their approval. The Guthries were important to him, too, and he’d been protecting his relationship with them as much as hers. But it touched her deeply to realize how respectful he’d been toward them and how much easier he’d made it for her to share the news with them than it would’ve been otherwise.

At home, she propped the letter on her bedside table to read later when she had worked up the fortitude to face it. To discover after all this time that Caleb had, in fact, considered his own mortality was shocking, to say the least. Finding out about the letter had thrown her for a loop, but she’d promised this night to Nolan, and she didn’t have the heart to cancel. She also didn’t want to cancel because she was eager to see him.

She rushed through a shower and dried her hair until it fell in long silky waves over her shoulders. She found a bottle of aromatherapy lotion that Charley had given her for Christmas last year and smoothed it over her skin before applying mascara and eyeliner as well as a hint of bronzer to her pale cheeks. Digging through her underwear drawer, she found a pretty pair of panties and a matching lace-trimmed bra that had also come from Charley. She pulled on the jeans he’d requested along with a pale green cashmere sweater with a cowl neck. Leather boots, earrings and a spritz of her favorite perfume completed the ensemble.

When she was ready, she sat on the bed and stared at the envelope on the bedside table. She picked it up, turned it over between her hands and brought it to her nose to see if it smelled like him, but it smelled only like paper and must from all the years it had waited to be read.

While she was extremely tempted to read it, fearing a setback, she returned it to the table and got up to go downstairs to wait for Nolan. Tonight, she wanted all her thoughts focused on him.

CHAPTER 15

I haven’t had time to write lately with graduation on Thursday, Caleb’s commissioning ceremony on Friday and the wedding on Saturday. By Saturday night, I’ll be Caleb’s wife—and an army wife. We’re so ready and so excited to start our life together. First stop is Ft. Benning, Georgia. Sometimes I think about how much I used to “hate” him. I think maybe I actually loved him all that time . . .

—From the diary of Hannah Abbott, age twenty-two

T
he meeting lasted for what felt like forever. Nolan had to force himself to pay attention when all he could think about was getting the hell out of there so he could go to Hannah.

Hannah
 . . . He’d thought about her nonstop all day, ever since she’d told him he was taken.
Taken
. What a great way to describe how he felt about her. He was taken with her, taken by her and completely and totally in love with her. It was such a relief to finally admit that to himself.

“Nolan.” Skeeter nudged him in the ribs. “Pay attention.”

Embarrassed to be caught zoning out, Nolan cleared his mind of everything but the conversation going on right in front of him.

“I reserved some practice time next weekend in New Hampshire,” the crew chief, Dave Lassiter, was saying.

“I can’t do it next weekend,” Nolan said. “I’ve got a funeral to go to.” He didn’t mention the funeral was for a dog, since he doubted the other guys would appreciate how important it was that he be there for Hannah.

“Who died?” Skeeter asked, his brows knit skeptically.

“No one you know.”

Dave’s hands were on his hips, his mouth set with displeasure. “Nolan, I gotta ask . . . Is your head in the game this year? You’ve missed more meetings than you’ve made, and now you’re ‘unavailable’ for hard-to-come-by practice time?”

“I’ve had some personal stuff going on,” Nolan said, annoyed by the insinuation that he wasn’t interested in the team anymore. “I’m committed. I’m just not available next weekend. Can we do it the week after?”

“I’ll see what I can arrange.”

Nolan had joined the team years ago as their chief mechanic and had been tapped to drive in an exhibition race last year after their driver’s pregnant wife insisted he give up his thrill-seeking activities to ensure their unborn child had a father in its life. The team had asked Nolan to take the wheel that night, and he’d pulled off a stunning upset that had cemented his standing as the team’s driver.

He couldn’t deny he loved the rush, the adrenaline, the teamwork and the thrill of winning. Until recently, Nolan had been fully committed to the team and its goals. Now he was torn between the sport that had long been a passion of his and passion of a different sort.

He left the meeting the second it ended, went home to shower off the filth of a long workday, shaved and changed his clothes, and was back in his truck twenty minutes later wearing a black V-neck sweater and jeans. Filled with anticipation, he drove faster than he should have in his haste to get to her.

Arriving at her house a short time later, he parked on the street and headed up the sidewalk. He rang the bell and waited, hoping tonight she would open the door rather than leaving him to wonder what had happened since the last time he saw her.

And then there she was, looking gorgeous and sexy, stealing the air from his lungs with the way she looked at him, as if she had been waiting impatiently for him to get there.

“Hey,” he said, his hands propped on the doorframe, which kept him from immediately reaching for her and hauling her into his arms. “You look beautiful.”

She took a long perusing look at him that instantly fired him up. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Get your coat.”

“Where are we going?”

“Out.”

“How come?”

“Because I’ve never officially taken you anywhere, and I don’t want you to think that all I want from you is what we’ve been doing on your sofa every night.”

“Oh it isn’t?” she asked with a coy grin.

“Not hardly.”

“I kind of like the sofa stuff.”

“I like it, too, and we’ll get to that. Later. Now about that coat?”

“Fine. If you insist.”

“I do.”

She turned and walked to the hall closet.

Only because he was watching her every move so closely did he catch the slight wiggle she included for his benefit that had him gripping the doorframe that much tighter.

She returned to the door wearing a coat and carrying her purse.

He stepped aside to let her go by, and bit back a groan when she brushed against him. Closing the inside door, he tested it to make sure it was locked before he followed her to his truck and held the passenger door for her. When she was settled, he went around the front of the truck and got in the driver’s side. His heart was beating fast and his hands felt clammy—the same way they’d been on the first date of his life when he’d been a stupid, naïve teenager.

This was so much more important, thus the nerves.

“Where are we going?” Hannah asked as they pulled away from the curb.

“I promised you Mexican food in Stowe days ago.” Though the last thing he needed was additional heat, he adjusted the temperature to make sure she didn’t get chilled. “You’re not cold, are you?”

“Nope. I’m good.” She glanced over at him, and he could feel her watching him. “Why do you seem nervous?”

“Do I?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m not nervous, but I couldn’t wait to see you tonight. I barely heard a word that was said at my meeting, and when it was over, I flew out of there to go home and clean up.”

Her hand landed on his arm, traveling down until she reached his hand. Their palms came together, fingers linked, and that was all it took to calm and settle him.

“Much better,” he said.

Holding hands, they rode in companionable silence until they arrived in the village of Stowe. At the restaurant, he ushered her inside, where they were seated at a secluded corner table.

Hannah ordered a glass of white wine, and he asked for a beer.

“This is nice,” she said of the relaxed atmosphere as they enjoyed a basket of chips and salsa.

“I would’ve taken you somewhere nicer, but I know how much you love Mexican.”

“You don’t have to try to impress me, Nolan. I don’t need any of that.”

“What if I want to spoil you?”

“Well, that’s up to you. As long as you know I don’t
need
it.”

“Duly noted.” Since he couldn’t stand to be so close to her but unable to touch her, he slid his chair closer to hers and put his arm around her.

She leaned into him, her hair brushing against his face. “You smell good,” she whispered.

“So do you.”

He ordered a burrito, and she got the enchiladas she said she’d been thinking of for days.

“How was the rest of your day?” he asked while they waited for their food.

“Enlightening.”

“How so?”

“I saw the Guthries.”

“Oh yeah? How are they?”

“Sad about Homer, of course, but doing okay.”

“That’s good to hear. I need to get over there to see them.”

“I heard you were there a month or so ago.”

Every cell in Nolan’s body froze as she said those words.

“They told me that you talked to them. About me.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Are you mad I did that?”

“No.”

He could finally breathe again when she said that single word.

“At first, I was surprised more than anything because nothing had really happened yet when you talked to them.”

“Yes, it had. I’d danced with you—in public. I’d kissed you. I wanted to kiss you again. I wanted to be with you, and I couldn’t do that if it wasn’t okay with them. I just couldn’t. I hope you understand.”

“I do understand. I went there today for the same reason. I didn’t want them to hear about us from someone else.”

“What did they say?”

“That they love us both and support whatever decisions I make. They also said they couldn’t think of any man more worthy of me than you.”

Pleased and touched, Nolan said, “They did? Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That’s nice of them.”

“It’s true. And it was very sweet of you to think of them and how they might feel about Caleb’s close friend dating his wife.”

“I wouldn’t be able to stand it if I did something that hurt them.”

Placing her hand on his face, she turned him toward her and kissed him. “Thank you for thinking of them. It means a lot to me that you did that.”

“I was sort of hoping you’d never find out,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I was afraid it would make you mad if you heard about it, but I couldn’t not do it, you know?”

“I do, and it was the right thing to do, even if it did surprise me a little.”

“I should’ve told you myself.”

“It’s okay that you didn’t.”

He took a drink of his beer and thought about the other thing he needed to tell her. “There’s something else you should know before this goes any further. Something I wouldn’t want you to hear through the grapevine.”

“What’s that?” Her tone was relaxed, but he felt the tension creep into her shoulders.

“About six years ago I was asked to be the chief mechanic on a stock car racing team.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“It is. I love it.”

“Are you like one of those pit crew guys on TV who can change a tire in ten seconds?”

“I used to be, but now I play a bigger role on the team.” He took another sip of beer because his mouth was suddenly dry.

“What kind of role?”

“As of a year ago, I’m the driver.”

“Wait, so you . . . You’re the driver.”

“I’m the driver.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“It can be if you don’t know what you’re doing. But I know what I’m doing. I’ve been driving and messing with cars since I was twelve.”

“Still . . . You can’t always trust that everyone on the track with you is as good at it as you are.”

In typical Hannah fashion, she’d zeroed right in on the absolute truth of the matter. “I suppose so, but you don’t need to worry, Hannah. I take every precaution, and I’ve never even come close to a wreck in more than thirty races and hundreds of hours of practice.”