All the same, he couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to her and Sam. And somewhere, deep in his consciousness, it occurred to him that if he and Hannah could win Hospital Challenge, they could find a way to make this right and be together.

Maybe he should start with flowers. But none of the bright blooms in the florist’s shop were good enough for Hannah. And anyway, a gift carried with it the expectation of forgiveness, and the very most that he could ask of her was that she hear him out.

After a week of trying to think of the right things to say, he decided that there was no right thing. He just had to apologise to her, and find out whether there was any chance that they could move forward from that. Friends, lovers. Exes who didn’t hold a grudge. He’d take anything that Hannah felt able to give.

He drew up outside her house just as it was getting dark. It was Hannah’s mother’s book club evening, and Hannah’s car stood alone in the driveway. Sam must be going to bed about now, so he’d get a chance to speak with Hannah alone. It took a couple of minutes to screw up his courage, and his heart was pounding as he got out of the car, walking towards the front door.

Then he saw it. The lights flipped on in the sitting room, and Hannah appeared with Sam, who was in his pyjamas and ready for bed. Sitting down in one of the armchairs, she took him on her lap and opened a storybook.

Matt could almost feel the warmth between them, radiating out into the cool of the evening. He stopped, stock still, watching. It was all he’d ever wanted, and yet...

If by some miracle he did manage to make things right with Hannah, what would happen next? His father had hurt his mother, and then made things right, in a cycle that had turned into years of agony. One of the things his mother had always impressed on Matt was that apologies weren’t enough, and that a person had to be truly committed to change.

He wanted to change. But what if he couldn’t?

Standing in the darkness, he suddenly saw it all very clearly. Hannah had all she needed, and he should go. He should let her live her life, and find someone who loved her in the way that she deserved.

Thinking of Hannah with someone else brought a bitter taste to his mouth. Matt turned, shaken by the knowledge that however much he wanted to see Hannah again, the best thing he could do for her was to leave. He hurried back to his car, fumbling with the keys and dropping them in the footwell.

A few more moments. Just to be near her. He stared at the light in the window, like a moth drawn to a flame.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but when he saw her tiny figure move, and then the light upstairs flip on, he knew that he had to go before he was tempted by the knowledge that Sam would be in bed and Hannah was alone. Picking up his keys, he started the car and drove away.

* * *

It had been four weeks. Matt had confined himself to the surgical suite while he’d worked out his notice at the hospital, and hadn’t seen Hannah. Clearly she didn’t want to see him, and there was nothing else to do now but pack the last of his things and leave. Matt was going to be house-sitting for a friend for a couple of months, which would give him time to find a place of his own, and he’d already boxed up one car load of his possessions for storage. The rest would fit in the boot of his car. Matt travelled light.

The thought had always made him feel free. But freedom didn’t mean a great deal any more without Hannah.

The doorbell rang and he ignored it. In his head he was already gone, and there would be no one stopping by to bid him farewell. If someone wanted to sell something, they’d have to find another, more receptive customer.

He busied himself, collecting up the last of his possessions from the sitting room, ready to be wrapped and packed into a cardboard box. The sound of a car alarm came from the street. His car alarm.

Matt grabbed his keys and looked out of the window. Hannah was leaning against his car, her arms folded, looking up at him. She had that determined look about her that he loved so much.

She gave him a wave and walked towards the front door of the block of flats. Matt swallowed down the temptation to lean out of the window, and shout down to her to ask what on earth she thought she was doing. Hannah had obviously made up her mind that she wanted to see him, and if he didn’t let her in he guessed that she’d only go back to his car and set the alarm off again. He almost wanted her to...

The doorbell sounded, and he pressed the Entryphone. He heard the front door slam shut, and counted the beats of his heart until he reckoned she’d reached the top of the stairs. When he opened the door of his flat, he saw her walking towards him.

‘What are you doing, Hannah?’

‘All of your windows are open and your car’s outside.’ She smiled at him, and Matt’s stomach lurched. ‘I guessed you were in.’

‘I was busy. And I wasn’t expecting anyone.’

‘Good. So we won’t be interrupted.’ She didn’t wait for him to ask her in, brushing past him and walking straight through to the sitting room. Matt closed the door and followed, and she swiped a piece of packing material off the sofa so that she could sit down.

‘You owe me an apology, Matt.’

She was giving him a chance. Suddenly it wasn’t so very hard to apologise, because this was nothing like the way his father had used his apologies to manipulate his mother. Hannah was in control, and asking for something that was rightfully hers.

‘I didn’t tell you that I had plans to leave. It was wrong of me, and I apologise.’

She nodded. ‘Accepted. Although I was at fault too, you told me that leaving was on your agenda and I didn’t take you at your word. Is there anything else?’

He knew what she wanted to hear. It was the thing he most wanted to say.

‘I told you that I didn’t love you. I thought it might make things easier, but...’ Matt shook his head, moving a cardboard box from the armchair, and sat down. ‘It wasn’t true and I’m sorry. I know I hurt you and I don’t expect you to forgive me.’

Tags: Annie Claydon Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net