Sacrifice
Page 82
Michael wouldn’t get over this easily.
He cleared his throat. “I get it, too.”
Hannah looked up at him, wincing a bit at the sunlight. “Want to go for a walk?”
He blinked, surprised, then grabbed his coat. “Sure.”
So they walked, Casper ambling along between them. Maybe she wanted closure. Maybe his brothers were making her crazy. Michael had no idea. He expected her to talk, but she walked in silence.
He didn’t mind.
Eventually, she glanced up at him. “I’m sorry the judge denied custody.”
That had happened yesterday. After everything he’d lost, Michael had hoped fate would cut him some slack.
Fate had punched him in the gut. He still felt the blow.
But it wasn’t permanent. The judge had given him thirty days to figure out a suitable living situation.
A month without his brothers. He thought back to his dad’s mantra: You can do anything for fifteen minutes.
Thirty days was a hell of a lot longer than fifteen minutes.
But he understood it. When he’d been eighteen, he would have fought like hell to challenge even that. Now? His brothers’ lecture the night they’d lost Hunter still echoed in his mind. They were old enough to take care of themselves—a little.
He needed the time anyway. To get his life back together.
He glanced at Hannah. “I understand why the judge did what she did. Your dad—he’s been amazing. It’s a relief knowing they’ll stay together, and that I know where they are... ” He stopped walking and looked at her. “Wait. This isn’t why you came out here, is it? Have your parents changed their minds about letting them stay? I know a month is a long time, and—”
“No! No, Michael, they didn’t change their minds. Are you kidding? My mother has practically adopted them already. It might break her heart when they leave.”
Michael smiled. His brothers could be charming when they wanted to be. “The guys said she bakes them cookies every day.”
“Just about.”
“That’s good. They could use some mothering.”
She didn’t answer, and he lost the smile. They fell into silence again.
He peeked over at her. The sunlight was bright on her hair, and the chill in the air had thrown pink on her cheeks. She rubbed at her arms, and he realized he’d been an idiot.
“Here,” he said, shrugging out of his coat. “It’s cold with the wind.”
She straightened in surprise when he dropped it around her shoulders, and he thought she might refuse. But then she grabbed the lapels and pulled it closer.
Her eyes flicked up at him. “Too bad we don’t have Nick to make it stop, right?”
That felt a little too pointed. Michael frowned.
She looked up at him. “What’s with the look?”
“I wish I’d told you,” he said. “If I could go back and do it over, I would.”
She didn’t say anything to that.
She kept walking, though, so he kept pace with her.
“That night you came to Tyler’s,” he said, “when you implied that I didn’t think you could take care of yourself . . . that’s not what I think, Hannah.” He paused. “That’s not what I think at all.”
Now she did stop, and she got in front of him. “Then what do you think?”
He studied her. “Why did you come out here?”
She shook her head. “Don’t do that. Answer the question.”
He rubbed a hand across the back of his head and looked past her, at the field. “I think I spent five years wondering if I’d ever meet someone who could handle my life. Not just my brothers or the Elemental stuff. All of it. Then I met you, and I thought . . . maybe.” He paused. “I’ve been carrying this all by myself for a while, Hannah. I couldn’t figure out how to share some of the load without dropping all of it.” He glanced at her, then away. “I don’t just mean you, either. My brothers, too. I forget that they’re not little kids anymore.” He shook his head. “The morning after the fire, Adam told me that it was okay to let other people take care of me. The problem is that I’ve forgotten how.”
She was still looking up at him. “I can understand that.”
“I know you can.” He gave a short laugh. He wanted to touch her so badly that it hurt. He jammed his hands in his pockets. “Probably better than anyone else.”
“Irish told me that it was okay for me to start acting like a grown-up, instead of like a kid with something to prove. I don’t think I’m the only one.”
“You’re not.” He paused and looked down at her. “So . . . you and Irish . . . ?”
He let that thought trail off.
She turned and started walking, but she didn’t torture him too long. “We’re friends.”
Michael fell into step beside her. “That’s all?”
“That’s all. I’m still too hung up on someone else.”
His heart tripped and stumbled and raced to catch up. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He caught her arm and turned her to face him. “Hannah—you’ve seen what we’re up against. It won’t stop.”
“Irish says that things are changing. That the Guides are losing the power they once had.”
It was so surreal to hear her talk about it like she’d known all his secrets all along. Bemused, Michael shook his head. “Maybe. But change is never immediate.”
He cleared his throat. “I get it, too.”
Hannah looked up at him, wincing a bit at the sunlight. “Want to go for a walk?”
He blinked, surprised, then grabbed his coat. “Sure.”
So they walked, Casper ambling along between them. Maybe she wanted closure. Maybe his brothers were making her crazy. Michael had no idea. He expected her to talk, but she walked in silence.
He didn’t mind.
Eventually, she glanced up at him. “I’m sorry the judge denied custody.”
That had happened yesterday. After everything he’d lost, Michael had hoped fate would cut him some slack.
Fate had punched him in the gut. He still felt the blow.
But it wasn’t permanent. The judge had given him thirty days to figure out a suitable living situation.
A month without his brothers. He thought back to his dad’s mantra: You can do anything for fifteen minutes.
Thirty days was a hell of a lot longer than fifteen minutes.
But he understood it. When he’d been eighteen, he would have fought like hell to challenge even that. Now? His brothers’ lecture the night they’d lost Hunter still echoed in his mind. They were old enough to take care of themselves—a little.
He needed the time anyway. To get his life back together.
He glanced at Hannah. “I understand why the judge did what she did. Your dad—he’s been amazing. It’s a relief knowing they’ll stay together, and that I know where they are... ” He stopped walking and looked at her. “Wait. This isn’t why you came out here, is it? Have your parents changed their minds about letting them stay? I know a month is a long time, and—”
“No! No, Michael, they didn’t change their minds. Are you kidding? My mother has practically adopted them already. It might break her heart when they leave.”
Michael smiled. His brothers could be charming when they wanted to be. “The guys said she bakes them cookies every day.”
“Just about.”
“That’s good. They could use some mothering.”
She didn’t answer, and he lost the smile. They fell into silence again.
He peeked over at her. The sunlight was bright on her hair, and the chill in the air had thrown pink on her cheeks. She rubbed at her arms, and he realized he’d been an idiot.
“Here,” he said, shrugging out of his coat. “It’s cold with the wind.”
She straightened in surprise when he dropped it around her shoulders, and he thought she might refuse. But then she grabbed the lapels and pulled it closer.
Her eyes flicked up at him. “Too bad we don’t have Nick to make it stop, right?”
That felt a little too pointed. Michael frowned.
She looked up at him. “What’s with the look?”
“I wish I’d told you,” he said. “If I could go back and do it over, I would.”
She didn’t say anything to that.
She kept walking, though, so he kept pace with her.
“That night you came to Tyler’s,” he said, “when you implied that I didn’t think you could take care of yourself . . . that’s not what I think, Hannah.” He paused. “That’s not what I think at all.”
Now she did stop, and she got in front of him. “Then what do you think?”
He studied her. “Why did you come out here?”
She shook her head. “Don’t do that. Answer the question.”
He rubbed a hand across the back of his head and looked past her, at the field. “I think I spent five years wondering if I’d ever meet someone who could handle my life. Not just my brothers or the Elemental stuff. All of it. Then I met you, and I thought . . . maybe.” He paused. “I’ve been carrying this all by myself for a while, Hannah. I couldn’t figure out how to share some of the load without dropping all of it.” He glanced at her, then away. “I don’t just mean you, either. My brothers, too. I forget that they’re not little kids anymore.” He shook his head. “The morning after the fire, Adam told me that it was okay to let other people take care of me. The problem is that I’ve forgotten how.”
She was still looking up at him. “I can understand that.”
“I know you can.” He gave a short laugh. He wanted to touch her so badly that it hurt. He jammed his hands in his pockets. “Probably better than anyone else.”
“Irish told me that it was okay for me to start acting like a grown-up, instead of like a kid with something to prove. I don’t think I’m the only one.”
“You’re not.” He paused and looked down at her. “So . . . you and Irish . . . ?”
He let that thought trail off.
She turned and started walking, but she didn’t torture him too long. “We’re friends.”
Michael fell into step beside her. “That’s all?”
“That’s all. I’m still too hung up on someone else.”
His heart tripped and stumbled and raced to catch up. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He caught her arm and turned her to face him. “Hannah—you’ve seen what we’re up against. It won’t stop.”
“Irish says that things are changing. That the Guides are losing the power they once had.”
It was so surreal to hear her talk about it like she’d known all his secrets all along. Bemused, Michael shook his head. “Maybe. But change is never immediate.”
