Fall to You (Here and Now 2)

It’s not until my eyes skim over the screenshots of these five-month-old texts a second time that I see it—the other number in the recipient field.

Hanna’s number.

And then, just like that, my world falls apart.

“Fuck,” I growl.

Mom hops off the couch and props her hands on her hips. “Maximilian!”

“Sorry, Mom.” I push off the couch. “I have to go.” My chest feels tight. I have to get out of here. I have to get to Hanna.

“What’s going on?” Worry etches lines between her brows.

I’m already halfway out the door and don’t answer her question. Hanna lives a few blocks from Mom, so I don’t bother with my car. I break into a run toward her house, the velvet box holding Grandma’s ring clenched in my fist.

I lost my grandmother my senior year of high school. Before she died, she warned me that Meredith would ruin my life. She was too kind to say it like that, but I remember it so clearly. Grandma was standing in her little kitchen, thin gold bracelets jangling at her wrists as she chopped apples for one of those nasty salads that involved too much mayonnaise.

“Maximilian,” she said, her voice creaking like the hinges on an old door, “you see someone drowning and you’re gonna be the first to jump into the lake without a life preserver. I know this about you, but you can’t save them all. Meredith is drowning, Max, and jumping in to save her is only going to destroy you both. Don’t let her pull you under.”

At the time, I wrote off her comments as those of an overprotective grandmother. She’d seen Meredith use me and drop me again and again, and she hated it. But she was right, and now Meredith is destroying the most important thing in my life—and me right along with it.

The house Hanna shares with her sister is dark, and when I pound on the door, no one answers. I use my key to let myself in. “Hanna?” I call. God, the fear is right there in my voice, making it tremble. How can I fix this? How can I stop her from seeing the screenshots of those old texts?

I sense Hanna before I hear her feet hit the steps behind me. When I turn, the truth is all over her face. She saw the texts. I’m too late.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

She steps into the house and nods carefully. “Good. Because it looks like you’re a lying asshole.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I shove the ring box in my pocket. Panic tightens a hot fist around my heart. “Hanna, don’t. Okay?” I just need a chanc

e to explain, but my chest is so tight and it’s hard to think. Hard to breathe. “You weren’t supposed to see those texts.”

“Oh my God. Seriously?” Her voice is hard. Distant. I want my soft, open girl back. “That’s the best you’ve got? I wasn’t supposed to see that our relationship is a total sham? That it’s pretend? That you—” Then her brittleness shatters and she sobs. All I want to do is pull her into my arms. And I know I can’t.

“But it’s not,” I plead. She tries to step around me, but I grab her hand and hold her fast. “This is real. Nothing about what I feel for you is pretend.”

“But it was. At one point, it was.” Tears leak out the corners of her dark eyes, and each one is a punch in the gut. Each one a nightmare come to life. I’m supposed to be the one to kiss away her tears, not the one who makes her cry.

“I was an idiot.” It’s a pathetic defense. The truth usually is. “Such an idiot.”

She lifts her chin, and some part of me is proud of her for standing up to me. “You don’t understand what it’s like to feel like shit about the way you look. You don’t understand what a leap of faith it was for me to believe you wanted to be with me when you could have had any woman you wanted in this town.”

“Meredith and I have a long, screwed-up history, and until things were serious with Will and Cally—”

Her eyes flash, a wave of anger crashing over the hurt. “Leave.” She points to the door.

“Don’t do this, Hanna. Those texts were from December. That was months ago. You and I hadn’t even kissed yet. I had no idea I was going to fall in love with you.”

“Stop.” She wraps her arms around herself and backs away as if I’m some asshole she needs to protect herself from. Maybe I am. “I can’t do this. I have spent too many years of my life hating myself. I can’t be with you anymore. I can’t—” A new sob cuts off the rest of her sentence. “Please leave.”

“I’ll give you time, but please—”

“It’s over, Max. Leave.” She lifts her eyes to my face and winces as if looking at me causes her physical pain, and there’s nothing I want more than to take that pain away.

So I do what she asks and leave.

I walk numbly through the darkness and back to my house, and I’m not even surprised when Meredith is waiting for me by the door.