“You’re afraid to get attached.”
Insult bloomed, along with a flicker of what could have been recognition. Hannah had made the same accusation. Ryan clenched his teeth against it until his jaw all but cracked. “I’m not afraid.” He gritted the words with a deliberateness that bordered on menace.
“Then why the hell did you blow up one of the best things to ever happen to you?”
“Because she deserves better!” Ryan roared. Before the sound even faded, Duke had wedged himself under Percy’s chair, making Ryan feel like even more of a dick.
Dropping a hand to stroke the dog, Percy kept his own voice soft. “You’re damned right she does. She deserves an apology and groveling for your behavior. And an explanation for whatever set you off.”
Ryan closed his eyes, seeing Hannah’s face, pinched with hurt even as she reached out to him. Something happened. Something tripped this switch, because the guy I’ve gotten to know over the past couple of weeks isn’t an asshole.
Even in the midst of taking the hits he was dishing out, she still tried to make a connection. Jesus. And he’d wanted it. He’d wanted it more than his next breath. He’d wanted to take her into his arms and let it all spill out. But he couldn’t do that. He needed to lock his shit down and keep it that way.
A fresh flare of anger crawled through him on the heels of the pain. He wouldn’t be in this position if not for her. He’d been absolutely fine compartmentalizing everything. He could function that way. Excel that way. And she came into his life, with her tinsel and ribbon and good cheer and big heart and just blew his walls all to hell. How was he supposed to go back to war, back to the job, without his armor?
Pissed off at her, at Percy, at the world in general, Ryan scooped up the keys to Smitty’s piece of shit truck. “I’m going for a drive.”
Somewhere in this town, there had to be a place he could blow off some steam.
Chapter 10
Hannah debated with herself the whole walk to Percy’s house. Ryan hadn’t tried to contact her in two days. Maybe it had been unrealistic to expect an apology. But she simply couldn’t reconcile the hateful things he’d said to her with the guy she’d come to know. Somewhere, deep down, he’d been doing it on purpose to push her away. She was a convenient target for some other hurt. Or maybe those were more attempts at justification for his behavior. None of it made the situation hurt any less.
She’d ended up breaking down at Maudie Bell Ramsey’s house. Poor Chester had patted her back and offered up a plate of brownies, probably in the hopes that eating and sobbing weren’t compatible. The older woman had tried to get her to talk about it, but Hannah hadn’t wanted to admit how foolish she’d been in allowing herself to get attached to Ryan in the first place. Oh, who was she kidding? She’d fallen in love with the guy she’d believed him to be. And he hadn’t wanted that. He’d been clear from the beginning what this was, what it could be. She’d just believed he’d been changing his mind and coming around to her way of thinking. Her mistake.
So instead of spilling her guts to one of the Casserole Patrol—who she suspected would’ve told her compatriots and headed over to Percy’s en masse to “jerk a knot in Ryan’s tail” as Maudie Bell had said—Hannah had finished the decorating job and gone home to Carolanne. The whole story had spilled out, along with gallons of tears. And because her sister was awesome, they’d turned to baking therapy and made baklava from scratch. Hannah had packed up a tin full of it to bring to Percy as a Christmas present. She wanted him to have another sweet reminder of his Janie.
She could just drop it off, all casual-like. Don’t mind me, I’m just armed with sugar and Christmas cheer. But as she neared the house, her feet hesitated. What if Ryan was there? A part of her was afraid she’d see him. What if their next encounter proved he was actually the mean, hateful asshat and she’d been wrong about him all along? She didn’t want confirmation that her judgment was so skewed. But another bigger part of her worried she wouldn’t see him. That he’d maybe already gone—either home or back to Afghanistan—without an apology or a goodbye. The idea of it made her heart crack just a little bit more. She’d gotten her acceptance letter from the small business incubator and her first instinct had been to share the news with him. Would he even care?
She straightened her shoulders. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to the house for Ryan. She was going for Percy. No matter how little she apparently meant to his nephew, she’d grown fond of the old man. She wasn’t going to balk at giving him this gift out of some kind of cowardice. Moving briskly, she rounded the corner onto Cochran Drive. The house came into view…with no rattle-trap truck in the drive. Relief came first, draining some of the tension from her shoulders. On its heels came disappointment. She wanted…well, she didn’t know what she wanted other than the guy she’d gotten to know. But that guy could never have spoken to her the way he had.
Moving quickly up the walk, Hannah’s gaze skimmed over the greenery, the lights, and ribbons. All the hard work she and Ryan had done to bring some joy back to Percy. It was still beautiful, even in the daylight. She’d see Percy again when she came to take it all down. By then, Ryan would certainly be gone, if he wasn’t already, and maybe Percy would have some kind of answers for her. Or maybe they’d pretend nothing had ever happened.
She rang the bell. Inside, Duke began to bark. Fidgeting on the front porch, she waited. But there was no shushing of the dog and no one answered the door. Maybe Ryan and Percy had gone off somewhere together. Although, Percy had been taking Duke almost everywhere. Inside, the dog’s barking got more insistent. Uneasy, she tried the knob. Locked, of course. Just in case, she decided to circle around to the back, to peek inside.
Cupping a hand around her eyes, she peered through the window of the back door. Duke leapt up, booming bark startling her so badly she jerked back. Pressing a hand to her thundering heart, she bent forward again, scanning the kitchen. A corduroy clad leg and a bedroom slipper stuck out past the kitchen table.
“Percy!” She jiggled the knob. Also locked. She began to pound on the door. “Percy!”
The leg didn’t move. Inside, Duke paced, interrupting his barking to whine.
Dropping the tin, she raced back around to the front of the house, lifting and shifting every pot, every plant, every piece of furniture or decoration she could think of that might hide a key. Rising to her toes, she ran her hands up and over the top of the door frame. No key. She scanned the flower beds, searching for a rock that wasn’t really a rock. But there was nothing at all like that amid the mulch and bushes. Maybe she could get the garage door to lift. Rushing to the side of the house, she tried to get a grip on the door, but couldn’t manage to budge it. She needed something to wedge beneath the lip to get some leverage. But there was nothing. Ryan had cleaned up the mess all around the house while he’d been here.
Duke’s barking rose in pitch.
She had to get inside that house. Determined, she ran back up to the front door and rammed her shoulder into it. Pain ricocheted down her shoulder as she bounced off. That clearly wasn’t going to work. Frantic, she whipped out her phone to dial 911, just as the truck rumbled into the drive with Ryan at the wheel.