What the Heart Needs (28 page)

And that was his version of goodbye. He got into his car, turned it over, and pulled away.

Hannah shook her head as if to clear her head and turned back to the inn. And froze. “Oh my god,” she said under her breath.

There hanging out of a second floor window was her bra.

She struggled with embarrassment and anger before finally settling on amusement. It wasn’t something she could ever have guessed he would do. He was probably driving down the road laughing, knowing she must have just discovered his little prank.

Hannah ran back into the hotel, wildly looking for Emily. She found her back in the maid’s room, her feet propped up on a cleaning cart and reading a magazine. “Em get me back into that room.”

Emily’s brow quirked up and she put down the magazine. “Forget something?” she asked, placing her long legs on the floor.

“Not exactly,” Hannah said, pulling her toward the stairs.

Emily let her into the room with her ring of keys she kept at her waist and Hannah rushed to the window, cracking it a sliver and reaching out to grab the bra before it slipped and fell onto the front porch.

When she turned around with it, Emily’s face had broken into a smile. “He hung your bra out of the window?” she asked, a dimple showing in her left cheek.

“Yeah, he didn’t want me to wear one today,” she admitted, trying to stuff it into her pocket. “I thought he had just put it in my or his bag. I never thought he’d be the kind of person to…”

“Wave a flag of conquest,” Emily supplied.

“Exactly.”

Emily shrugged. “Men are weird,” she mused and Hannah silently agreed.

--

It took her another hour to finally say her goodbyes. She got into her car feeling strangely sad and nostalgic. While she always missed her family and friends after a visit, she never quite felt so sad about going.

She wondered if maybe it was just a result of her uncertain future. Try as she might to not think about it, a tiny voice deep buried whispered about what was going to happen in a few weeks or months. How was she going to feel when she found herself cast aside eventually? How would she react to being told that she didn’t need to let herself in and be in his bed?

Hannah shook her head, pulling onto the main road and noticing with rising concern an odd clanging. Just as she had worked herself up to a valid worry, smoke started pouring out of the hood, grey and billowing and blinding. She slammed for her brake and found, with startling vividness, there was no more brake. Holding her foot on the brake regardless, she reached frantically for the emergency brake and pulled. The car skittered, resisting, before finally stopping. She turned off the ignition and jumped out of the car, running blindly toward the gas station.

Her heart hammered in her chest and her hands were shaking and she thanked the heavens that it was a small town and she was only a few hundred feet from the mechanic.

As she closed in, she saw a figure propped up against the building, tall and slim with black hair and stubble. Eric O’Reilly. Noticing her, he pushed off the wall and walked over, casualness being his dominant state of being.

“My car is smoking,” she yelled. “like really really smoking. And the brakes arent working,” she yelled as he got closer.

Up close she felt the shocking response to Eric O’Reilly. He was the most attractive man she (or many other women) had ever set eyes on. With his jet black hair, sharp jaw line, and impossible cheekbone hollows- he exuded raw sexual energy and danger. She had the biggest crush on him when she had been younger, a silly girlish thing that Sam laughed at because “everyone thinks he’s good looking”.

“Did you turn it off?” he asked, taking off toward the direction she had come from.

“Of course I turned it off. I’m not stupid,” she snapped, running after him.

Her car was parked crossway over mainstreet, blocking both lanes and only slightly smoking now though the smoke from before thickened the air all around it. A dozen or so people had gathered on the sidewalks, concern etched into their faces.

Eric walked up casually in his blue mechanic one-piece jumpsuit that was impossibly attractive on his swimmer’s body. He opened the hood, a rag covering his hand. Grey smoke pillowed out and he swatted at it, trying to look around.

Hannah stayed a few feet behind him, trying to give him space and thoroughly freaked out that her car might actually blow up.

Eric slammed the hood and turned, walking back toward his shop. When she fell into step next to him, he looked over and sent her one of his wicked smiles, revealing a scar in his cheek cut deep. “I’m gonna go grab the tow and bring it in to look at it, baby.”

Hannah felt her belly do a little flip-flop and cursed herself for still being effected by his ridiculous habit of using pet names. “Okay good. That was crazy.”

Eric shoved at her shoulder with his gently. “Yeah it’s not normal to smoke and to lose your brakes. Gotta see what’s up. Good job turning it off. You’d be surprised, most people freak and run, leaving the ignition on. And then it turns into a nice fire.” She followed him to his tow truck and attempted to climb in, but his hand landed on top of her’s on the door handle. “You just hang out here, babe.” He saw her disgruntled look and chuckled. “There’s nothing you can do. I got this,” he said, winking at her and going around the truck, climbing in, and pulling away.

Hannah let herself into the main building, the door groaning in objection. Inside she found an old, cluttered black desk, a matching filing desk and an old tan couch. The walls had pictures of antique cars with men standing near them in front of the gas station. Generations of O’Reillys, she figured, noticing the sharp, dark good looks in all of them. A radio was on somewhere unseen playing old rock songs.

She sat down carefully on the couch, watching the dust fly up around the office in the sunlight. She heard Eric return, heard the garage doors opening and the car being put up on the lift. Hannah kept seated knowing that it would only annoy him if she was poking around while he was trying to work.

It felt like hours had passed when she heard the groan of the front door and Eric came in, wiping his hands on a red rag. There was a deep downcast to his brows. Confusion? Concern?

“Hey, baby,” he said, coming in and leaning against the desk, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

“What’s the verdict?” she asked, her hands clenching and unclenching. Worried.

Eric rubbed his hand across his brow. “I don’t know how to say this but…”

“So just say it,” she cut him off.

Eric smiled a little. “It’s like someone was trying to kill you. Or terrify you at the very least.”

Hannah felt her heart rise up in her throat. Her body felt suddenly cold, goosebumps rising up her arms. Oh god. “What?” she managed to ask in a steady voice.

“Yeah I know it sounds crazy,” Eric said, focusing his unsettling eyes on hers. “But the brake lines were cut. On purpose. And as if that wasn’t enough,” he said, looking thoroughly alarmed. “water was poured into your gas tank. And oil was poured all over your engine. Hence the crazy smoking. That was more of a scare tactic, I assume,” he said, looking at her closer. “Who the hell could hate you that much?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Hannah stilled. It was a question she would like to know the answer to as well. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “This is bad huh?”

“I mean I could fix it,” he said, sounding uninterested in the task. “But honestly, your car isn’t worth what I would have to put into it.”

“Right,” Hannah said, silently trying to figure out if she could afford a new car. Or a used car. Or anything. It looked like moving wasn’t really an option anymore. Where the hell would she get the money if she had to sink all her savings into a new vehicle?

“I’m sorry, babe,” he said, and sounded like he genuinely meant it. “want me to drive you to your mom’s or anything?”

“No, no thanks Eric. I can walk.”

“Alrgiht,” Eric said, standing and walking toward the door.

“Hey, Eric?” she asked in a voice that sounded like pleading.

“Yeah?” he turned back.

“Can you not mention this? I mean I guess you’ll have to say something was wrong, but can you like… not talk about the sabotage thing?” Her voice sounded small and young to her, like she was asking an aunt to not tell her mom that she was drunk when she was sixteen.

Surpsise worked its way across his face for a second before it settled back to its easy, severe charm. “No worries, baby, I’ll keep your secrets safe.”

“Thanks,” she said and Eric winked before leaving.

Hannah pulled out her phone, typing quickly.

Hannah: 1:47 PM : Hey, wont be back tomorrow. My car just gave up on me. I am still stuck in Stars Landing.

EM: 1:48 PM : What happened?

Hannah: 1:48 PM: You’re driving. Stop texting.

It was only a split second after she sent her text before her phone was ringing. Elliott.

“Hey,” she answered.

“I assume this is better.” His voice was cool. “What happened? Are you alright?”

Hannah let herself feel happy for a second that he seemed genuinely concerned for her wellbeing. “Yeah, I’m fine. It was making noise and smoking and whatnot. I was still in town luckily so I got Eric. He’s the mechanic,” she clarified, remembering he wouldn’t know all the town members. “and he towed it and said that it’s pretty much beyond repair. So I am stuck here for a few days until I figure this all out.”

“No, I’ll come get you,” Elliot said, sounding like it was already settled. No room for argument.

“No that’s really not necessary. I will figure out a car situation and…”

“I’ll be there in about… two hours,” he said as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

“Really it’s not…”

“Stop,” he broke in, firmly but in a kind voice. “I am coming to get you. We can figure out your car situation later. Where will you be?” he asked.

We. He said we. As in they would both figure out the car problem. Hannah wanted to smile, but wouldn’t let herself. She. She would figure out her own problems. He had just misspoken. That was all. He certainly didn’t see them as a we.

“I guess I’ll be at the bookstore,” she said, not wanting to have to say goodbye to everyone else twice.

“Right. Okay. Two hours,” he said and hung up.

He really had awful phone manners Hannah mused as she walked toward the door. Eric had already piled her bags outside the door and she picked them up, looking for him. She spotted him toward the sidewalk, talking to a woman. Standing too close.

Hannah was about to smile. Typical Eric. But then she realized who it was that he was speaking to. Annabelle. The pretty girl from Sam’s kitchen. Hannah let herself worry on that for a second before starting off toward the bookstore.

Elliott showed up two hours and fifteen minutes later, looking slightly disheveled but alert.

Being stuck in a car with him was even more uncomfortable than she had prepared herself for. The silence drug on and on until she reached and turned the radio on, flipping through his saved channel settings with curiosity. She even ejected the cd from the player. Seeing Billy Joel, she smiled and put it back in, turning it on and cranking the volume louder than he would have probably liked.

A few tracks in, she found herself settling into the comfortable seat, watching the landscape fly by out her side window and singing along. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Elliott was smiling and she sang a bit more quietly for a few minutes.

He wasn’t used to women being in his car. At least not for extended periods of time. He felt itchy under his collar watching her fiddle around his stereo like she was trying to get to know him. No one ever really cared enough to try.

Then watching her relax against her seat, slipping out of her shoes and pulling her legs to her chest, singing every Billy Joel song that came on, he had a strange rush of emotions. Amusement, certainly. Ease, he realized how comfortable he felt right then and there in a situation that with another woman, would have made him squirm. Then lastly, something strange and foreign. He could only describe it as a warmness, a genuine non-sexual heat toward her.

Elliott shook his head free of the thought, focusing his attention back on the drive.

Fifteen

She had gone back with him that night, feeling like a fish out of water. But they fell into bed and had sex. Fast, punishing, pounding sex that had her leaving scratch marks across his back and blood under her fingernails. Then they had both fallen asleep, the long drive having worn them both out.

Hannah woke up early, confused about her surroundings for a long minute. She padded over to the bathroom, closing the door quietly though it seemed like nothing would wake the sleeping Elliott. She took a long, hot shower and dressed in the most appropriate outfit in her suitcase- a pair of black skinny-leg jeans and a plum long sleeve t-shirt.

She wrapped her hair in a bun and went carefully downstairs, through the dark and cool house. Finding the thermostat on a wall in the hallway, she cranked it up and went into the kitchen. It took her several minutes to locate a coffee machine which, oddly, was stored away in a cabinet under the sink. She located the coffee stored way back in the fridge and made a mental note to tell him that wasn’t the best place to keep it.

Elliott woke up, groggily looking for Hannah. But her space was long abandoned. He sighned, getting out of bed and going to take a shower. Was she ever going to stop running away? How had she even left without her car?

He made his way down the stairs dressed for his day, bothered by how warm the house was. He was about to walk out the door. He wasn’t the kind of person to hang out in the morning, drinking coffee over a newspaper. He preferred to get up and get to work.

With renewed focus, he realized Hannah hadn’t left at all. There was clanging coming from the kitchen and he could smell fresh coffee. He wasn’t even aware he had a coffee machine. With a smirk he made his way to the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. Hannah was dressed and ready for work and dancing around his kitchen to whatever top-forty pop song that was on the radio.

“Good morning,” he said and she stopped mid hip-shake, her mouth falling open and looking thoroughly embarrassed.

“Hey,” she recovered and gave him a rare charming smile.

“There’s coffee?” he asked, a part of him completely at awe of his home seeming even the slightest bit domestic.

“And toast,” she said, motioning toward the stack of rye bread on the counter. “You had nothing else anywhere.”

“I’m pretty sure that bread isn’t mine,” Elliott clarified, reaching for the rye and biting into it. “I don’t do grocery shopping.”

“Shocking,” Hannah quipped, grabbing a piece herself and turning away.

Elliott smiled finding it comforting to be able to enjoy a quick meal at his own home.

“So how are we going to do this?” Hannah said, wiping crumbs off the counter where she was eating and dropping them into the sink.

“Do what?” Elliott asked, grabbing a cup of coffee.

“Well this no car thing. Are you going to drop me at a car rental place before work?” she asked.

“No,” Elliott said, his face confused. “I’ll drive you to work.”

“Right,” she said, squirming. She didn’t want to have to get into this. “But…”