“Don’t follow me out,” she snapped before stomping toward the door.
“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t. Have fun being the whipping post. Again.”
She glanced over her shoulder, and for no more than a heartbeat, he saw the devastation and loss flash across her face. Then she hardened her expression and blinked, but it was too late. One rogue tear rolled down her cheek.
“Screw you, John Paul Benson.”
The she was gone, slamming the door behind her with enough force to rattle the house.
He stood there, shoulders slumped and arms dangling at his sides as he stared at the empty space where she’d stood only seconds before. If he could conjure her back with only his thoughts, she would reappear any time.
But she didn’t. And he stayed there with his heart bleeding all over the floor. For him. For her. For Kayla. How had a day like yesterday, perfect in every single way, turned ugly with just one phone call?
The pounding of feet on the stairs had him holding his breath.
She’d come back. She hadn’t left.
He took a step forward just as Ronnie called out, “JP? Are you okay? What the hell was that noise?”
His stomach took a nosedive as Ronnie burst into his room.
“JP?” She took one look at him and said, “Oh, no.”
He nodded.
“I’m so sorry.” Ronnie opened her arms.
What the hell was he going to do now that Hannah was gone? How would Kayla ever understand her sudden disappearance? The reality of the loss became too heavy to bear, and he fell into his sister’s outstretched arms.
She staggered back before catching his weight. “Jesus, JP, what happened?”
Not now. He shook his head. It was too soon to say it out loud. The shock, the pain, and the anger were too fresh.
Even the fear for what Hannah was about to endure lingered, screwing with his head. If he could spare her that pain, he would without thought, even as crushed as he felt.
Without saying anymore, Ronnie held him tight.
He’d been right to avoid relationships and a fool to let one woman change his entire way of thinking. If this pain in his chest was a broken heart, he never wanted to experience it again.
And he’d make sure he never did. He’d been so afraid of destroying someone else with his actions and genetic bullshit, he’d never even considered he’d be the one to have his heart pulverized.
Fuck love. He was done with that bullshit.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
HANNAH CHARGED THROUGH the double doors and toward the main information desk.
If someone didn’t call security and have her escorted out of the hospital, it’d be a miracle.
The stars had aligned, getting her on a five-forty-five a.m. direct flight to Colorado. She hadn’t traveled with anything beyond her purse, and after hours on a plane followed by a forty-five-dollar Uber ride, she’d arrived at the hospital looking like she’d been dragged behind the plane instead of riding in it. That’s what happened when she didn’t even brush her hair or change her clothes before fleeing a man’s bed.
God, she couldn’t think about JP now. The tears would start again.
“Excuse me, hi,” she said to the smiling gentleman behind the information desk. “Can you please tell me where I can find a patient by the name of Patricia Briggs? I’m her daughter Hannah Briggs.”
“Let’s see…” he said, shifting his attention to the computer. A few clicks later, he glanced at her. “Give me a minute. Our system is crazy slow today.”
As he waited for the computer to do its thing, Hannah glanced around the lobby. Several visitors milled about, some on their phone, some waiting for who knew what. Even a few patients walked with visitors, dragging an IV pole along. In the center of the lobby, a tall fountain shot water in an arch that splashed into the shallow pool. An attempt to bring peace to a space that often symbolized stress and worry.
It wasn’t working for her. Today not much would bring her peace. She’d spent the first half of her flight fuming and the second half hiding her tears by staring blindly out the window.
How could JP have been so insensitive? Where was the man she’d fallen in love with? The one who cared about family, made her laugh, and blew her mind?
Ugh, she promised herself she wouldn’t obsess over him until she was safely behind her apartment door. Showing up in her mother’s hospital room looking like someone who’d just had their heart broken wouldn’t help anyone. She had to be strong, so she could help her parents through this trying time. Same as always.
Yet a nagging voice in the back of her mind wouldn’t be silenced. It chastised her, calling her a fool and warning she’d fall right back under her parent’s control as soon as she walked into the hospital room. Was the voice right? Would obligation, guilt, and responsibility crush her until she’d do anything to get out from under its heavy weight as she’d done her entire life? Was she doomed to a lonely existence making sure her mother didn’t break down daily?