Hook, Line, and Sinker (Bellinger Sisters #2)

Maybe the crew would realize they were wrong about him after some time passed. After all, they were just following his lead, treating him like he asked them to. Like the cheap version of himself he’d presented. Demanding respect from Brendan one time was all it took to change his best friend’s tune. What if that was all it took to do the same with everyone else?

And if it didn’t work? The hell with them. His relationship with Hannah belonged to him and her. No one else.

Either way, he was going to do everything in his power to keep Hannah.

That was a given.

Imagining a future without her had his hands shaking on the wheel.

For the first time since he’d left for college, he was eager to find out how far his potential could reach. He was ready to take chances again. Maybe because he now knew, after speaking frankly with Charlene, that he’d been guided incorrectly. Or maybe because he was no longer so afraid of being judged. He was driving blindly, pretty sure Hannah had gone back to LA. This was pain. This was self-loathing. Losing the love of his life—his future—because he’d let the past win. He could endure and overcome anything but this.

Cradling the phone between his cheek and shoulder, he ripped off the leather bracelet and threw it out the window of his car. “I want the boat, Brendan.”

Even without seeing his best friend’s face, he could imagine the raised eyebrow, the thoughtful stroking of his jaw. “You sure?”

“Positive. And I’m putting in a new chair. Your ass grooves are in the old one.” He waited for his friend to stop chuckling. “Is Piper there? Has she spoken to Hannah?”

“She’s out on her run. I can call her—”

Fox’s phone died.

The breath hissed out of him, and he threw the device onto the dashboard, heart slamming in his ears as he wove in and out of traffic. She couldn’t be gone. All right, they hadn’t agreed on a timeline for him to come and find her. Perhaps she thought she’d go back to LA and he’d take a few weeks or even months to figure out he’d die without her? Maybe he should have assumed she would leave this morning? Well, he hadn’t. He’d been thinking about it for weeks, and when the moment finally came, his heart had blocked the painful possibility.

Too late. He was too late.

God, she could have changed her mind. Maybe she wasn’t giving him time to pull his head out of his stubborn ass at all. That would explain why she wasn’t answering her phone. She’d deemed Fox more trouble than he was worth. If that was the case, it wouldn’t matter if he flew to LA. Or drove like a bat out of hell and caught up with the bus. If she was done with him . . .

No.

No, please. He couldn’t think like that.

With his skin somehow icy and sweating at the same time, Fox took the exit to Westport an hour and a half later, searching the streets for members of the cast or crew. Would he even recognize any of them? At that moment, he would have been grateful to see the fucking director and his yuppie turtleneck. None of the people waving as he passed were non-locals, though. None of them. No bus idling on the harbor.

Gone.

“No, Hannah,” he said hoarsely. “No.”

He parked haphazardly outside his apartment, prepared to go inside and pack a bag. He’d get on the highway and catch up with the bus. Wait for it to stop and beg her to listen. If he couldn’t find the bus, he’d get on a plane. Bottom line, he wasn’t coming back here until they were unequivocally committed. With a plan.

A plan.

He might have laughed if he wasn’t on the verge of splitting straight down the middle. Suddenly, he could think of a million plans. Because he was capable of anything. They were. Together.

As long as she hadn’t given up on him—

Fox walked into his apartment and stopped dead in his tracks.

Hannah sat cross-legged on the floor in front of his record player, giant can headphones over her ears, humming along to the music.

If she’d heard him or turned around in that moment, she would have seen him slump back against the door, shaking. Seen him use the hem of his T-shirt to wipe the scalding moisture from his eyes. Would have seen the prayers he mouthed at the ceiling. But, oblivious, she didn’t turn. Didn’t witness him devouring the tilt of her neck with his gaze, the line of her shoulders. Inhaling the breathiness of her voice singing along to Soundgarden.

As soon as he could walk straight, he went toward her, picking up her phone where it rested on the counter, his voicemail not yet played.

He dug for the right words.

Ones that could possibly express how much he loved her.

But in the end, all he had to do was listen to his heart and trust himself.

He came to a stop beside her, and she jolted and looked up at him.

They stared for long moments, searching each other for answers.

He gave her one by changing the record. Putting on “Let’s Stay Together” by Al Green. Watching her expression soften with each word. Lyrics that couldn’t have been more appropriate. When tears started to fill her beautiful eyes, Fox pulled Hannah to her feet and they slow danced to the music in her ears and the music in his heart, the headphones only coming off when the song ended.

“I love you,” Fox said thickly, still rocking her side to side. Holding on to her like a life preserver in the middle of the Bering. “Oh my God, I love you so much, Hannah.” He burrowed his face into her hair, starved for closeness to her, this incredible person who somehow loved him. “I thought you left,” he said, lifting her off the floor and walking toward the bedroom. “I thought you left.”

“No. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.” Her arms tightened around his neck. “I love you too much.”

As he laid her down on the bed, tears leaked from his eyes, and Hannah reached up, wiped them away, along with her own. “What happened to you giving me time to pull my head out of my ass?”

“Six hours seemed like more than enough,” she whispered up at him.

Happiness rushed in, crowding him from all sides. And he let it. Let himself accept it and think of all the ways he could give happiness to her in return. For the rest of his life. Every hour, every day.

Fox covered her with his body, both of them groaning against each other’s mouth, sliding and writhing muscle on curves. “We can find a place in between here and Seattle. That way if you get a job in the city, we cut the commute in half for us both.” He unfastened her jeans and pushed a hand inside, watching her eyes go blind when his fingers tucked into her panties and found her. There. Pressing between her seam of flesh and rubbing with increasing pressure. “Does that work for you?”

“Yes,” she gasped when he slowly worked his middle finger inside, drawing it in and out. “Mmmm. I like that idea. W-we can find out who we’ll become together. Without everyone around all the t-time.”

Fox nodded, took his time tugging off her jeans and panties, eventually rendering her naked while he remained fully clothed on top of her, pressing her down into the bedclothes. “Whoever we become together, Hannah,” he said, mouth roaming over hers, fingers reaching down to lower his zipper. “I’m yours and you’re mine. So it’s always going to be right.” His throat started to close as he pushed inside her, those thighs of hers jerking up into the perfect position. “I didn’t know what right felt like until you,” he choked out. “I’m holding on to the good you give me. I’m holding on to you.”

“I’m hanging on to you, too, Fox Thornton,” she murmured unevenly, her body propelled up the bed on his first drive, eyes glazing. “Never letting go.”

“I’m in for the good, bad, and everything in between, Hannah.” He pressed his open mouth to the side of her neck and pushed deeper, deep enough, close enough to feel her breathe, and rejoiced in it. “Decades. A lifetime. I’m in.”





Epilogue



Ten Years Later

The smooth voice of Nat King Cole filled the interior of Hannah’s Jeep as it bumped along the snowy road. Her headlights caught the falling flakes, twilight giving the sky a purplish-gray glow, towering pines creating a now-familiar pathway on either side of her—a pathway home to her family.