Fix You

His words clattered around her mind like a can being kicked down an alleyway. It was too late. In her effort to save herself, she had killed their relationship and any respect he must have for her. Feeling a fresh sting of tears against her eyelids, she squeezed them shut again, reminding herself this was supposed to be a happy occasion; it was her best friend’s birthday, and she was going to do her damnedest to celebrate.

Sixteen

March 12th 2008

Hanna was deliberately running late, driving Tom mad with her procrastinating as she went back into the house. First, she had to check she’d turned the heating off. Then she wanted to make sure she had unplugged her hair straighteners. Finally, she went back in to make sure she had switched the burglar alarm back on, having turned it off the previous two times.

She knew she was putting off the inevitable, but it really didn’t make her feel any better.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Tom reached out and took her hand, keeping his other palm steady on the steering wheel as his car idled outside her apartment.

“Not really.” Hanna swallowed down the feeling of nausea. She reminded herself she had gone through much worse than this before.

“We don’t have to stay for too long. Let’s watch the ceremony, drink the free alcohol, then drive back to town and have a party for two.”

Hanna smirked. Their parties for two nowadays had toned down to a cup of tea in front of the evening news. Some days she felt much older than her twenty-five years.

“I’m not going to let the Larsens down, Tom. I promised them a real-life celebrity at the wedding, and by God they’re going to get one.”

Her words caused Tom to glance in the rear-view mirror. The usual black utility vehicle was following behind them, driven by his security advisor. It had amused Hanna when she first met Damon, and she found herself constantly quoting from The Bodyguard. She had no greater wish than to see Damon carry Tom away from a perceived threat. It would have made her day.

“They want me to take the heat off them,” Tom muttered. The prevalence of cell phone cameras were making his life a misery. He was constantly complaining he “couldn’t even take a slash without it being on Perez Hilton the next day.”

“You’re going to stay with me at all times, right?” she asked, leaning forward to switch on the radio, wincing when the drum and bass came out at full volume. “Jesus, how can you stand to listen to this shit?”

“Would you rather I was playing a Fatal Limits album?” Tom looked amused. “Because I might have a few in the glove box.”

Hanna turned and stared at him, her eyes narrowing. “The new one?”

“Do you mean the recently recorded, unedited, unreleased version?” Tom was still drumming his fingers against the steering wheel in time to the cacophony emanating from the car stereo.

“No.” Hanna deadpanned. “I only like hearing your old songs.”

Slapping at her thigh, he reached across her and pulled open the glove box. All the CDs he had pushed inside came tumbling out onto Hanna’s legs, some falling around her feet, making her scramble around to pick them up.

Ignoring her remonstrations, Tom picked up a blank CD and pushed it into the stereo, the soft sounds of a piano soothing Hanna’s ears.

He lasted a couple of minutes into the first song before he asked her what she thought.

By this time, she had stuffed the glove compartment full again and snapped it closed, making a mental note to never let it be opened in her presence. It was an accident waiting to happen.

“It’s a change from the last album,” she ventured, her brow dipping as she concentrated on the music, noting the guitar-based band was going heavy on the electronics. A discordant bass seemed to thread its way through all the tracks.

“We wanted to try something new.” Tom attempted a nonchalant shrug, then noticing Hanna’s concentration, he shut up and let her listen.

They remained silent throughout their hour-long journey. Hanna was so intent on listening to the music, she barely noticed when Tom pulled the car into the driveway and came to a halt. It was only when she looked up that she realized they were at the venue, ready to see the eldest Larsen son be married off to his fiancée of a year.

She let out a puff of air, staring straight ahead at the dashboard as she reminded herself she gave up the right to feel this way three years ago.

Richard had every reason to move on. She had all but begged him to. She had told him there was no hope for them, and she didn’t want him to follow her.

So why the

hell did she feel so low?

“You ready?” Tom pulled the key from the ignition and leaned toward the rear-view mirror, pulling his lips over his teeth and rubbing them with his finger, as if he was checking for bits in between them.

“Yes.” Hanna pulled the door open and slid her legs around, smoothing the tight blue dress over her thighs. The heels of her stilettos buried themselves into the gravel, and she found herself having to work extra hard to walk across the driveway.