The Deal(117)

The revelation sends a fresh bolt of anger whipping through me. Damn it. A part of me was still hoping I might be wrong about Cindy.

Silence settles between us as I head for the highway ramp. My hand rests on the gearshift, and Hannah covers it with hers. She strokes my knuckles, her gentle touch easing some of the pressure in my chest.

“She was scared of me,” I mumble.

This time, Hannah does sound surprised. “What are you talking about?”

“When I was alone in the kitchen with Cindy, I took a step closer and she flinched. She flinched, like she was scared I might hurt her.” My throat clogs up. “I mean, I get it. My mom was jumpy, too. So was I. But…f*ck. I can’t believe she thought I was capable of hurting her.”

Sadness softens Hannah’s voice. “It’s probably not just you. If he’s abusing her, then she’s probably scared of anyone who comes near her. I was the same way for a while after the rape. Jumpy, nervous, suspicious of everyone. It was a long time before I was finally able to relax around strangers, and even now, there’s still things I won’t do. Like drink in public. Well, unless you’re there to play bodyguard.”

I know that last line is an attempt to make me smile, but it doesn’t. I’m still preoccupied by Cindy’s reaction.

In fact, I don’t feel like talking anymore. I just…can’t. Fortunately, Hannah doesn’t push me. I love that about her, how she never tries to fill silences with forced conversation.

She asks if I’m okay with music, and when I nod, she plugs in her iPod and loads up a playlist that does make me smile. It’s the classic rock set I emailed her when we first met, though I notice she doesn’t start it from the first song. Because the first song happens to be my mother’s favorite, and I’m pretty sure that if I hear it right now, I’ll burst into tears.

Which just goes to show that Hannah Wells is…amazing. She’s so f*cking attuned to me, my moods, my pain. I’ve never been with anyone who can read me so well.

An hour goes by. I know it’s an hour because that’s how long the playlist lasts, and when it ends, Hannah puts on a different mix, which makes me smile too because it consists of a whole lot of Rat Pack, Motown and Bruno Mars.

I’m calm now. Well, calmer. Every time I feel like I’m relaxing, I remember Cindy’s fear-ridden eyes and the pressure squeezes my chest again. As uncertainties eddy in my gut, I force myself not to dwell on the one question that keeps pricking at my brain, but as I speed off the exit ramp and drive toward the two-lane road that will take us to Hastings, the question pops up again and this time I can’t bat it away.

“What if I’m capable of it?”

Hannah turns down the volume. “What?”

“What if I’m capable of hurting someone?” I ask hoarsely. “What if I’m just like him?”

She answers with absolute conviction. “You’re not.”

Misery crawls up my spine. “I have his temper, I know I do. I wanted to strangle him tonight.” I press my lips together. “It took all my willpower not to throw him into a wall and beat him to death. But it wasn’t f*cking worth it. He’s not worth it.”

She reaches for my hand and laces her fingers through mine. “And that’s why you’re not like him. You have that willpower, and that means you don’t have his temper. Because he can’t control his. He lets the anger fuel him, drive him to hurt the people around him, people who are weaker than him.” Her grip on my hand tightens. “What would you do if I pissed you off right now?”

I blink. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s pretend we’re not in the car right now. We’re in my room, or your house, and I…I don’t know, tell you that I slept with someone else. No, I tell you that I’ve been sleeping with the entire hockey team since the second we met.”

The thought makes my insides clench.

“What would you do?” she prompts.

I turn to her with a frown. “I’d end it and walk out the door.”

“That’s it? You wouldn’t be tempted to hit me?”

I recoil in horror. “Of course not. Jesus.”

“Exactly.” Her palm moves gently over my cold knuckles. “Because you’re not like him. No matter how angry someone made you, you wouldn’t hit them.”

“That’s not true. I’ve gotten into a brawl or two on the ice,” I admit. “And one time I punched a guy at Malone’s, but that’s ’cause he said some nasty shit about Logan’s mom and I couldn’t not throw down for my friend.”