I Want to Hold Your Hand (15 page)

Without thinking, Nolan reacted, taking his father by the lapels and slamming him against the truck. “Don’t you say another fucking word about her or her family, or I swear to God, I’ll kill you. You understand me?”

The stench of booze on Vernon’s breath nearly made Nolan gag, but he didn’t release the tight hold. “Hit a nerve, huh?” Vernon asked with a mean sneer.

Nolan bashed him against the truck again. “I said,
do you understand me?
”

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t say nothing about your precious girlfriend, but I’m sure other people will have plenty to say about a classy gal like her taking up with a good-for-nothing grease monkey like you.”

Sick to death of his father and the misery that surrounded him, Nolan let go of his coat. Vernon slithered to the ground in a heap, and Nolan resisted the urge to kick the shit out of him. He’d love nothing more, but all that would do was draw attention to the nightmare he’d lived with all his life—a nightmare not even his closest friends knew about. Nolan had gone out of his way to keep his shameful family a secret. Most of his friends knew his grandfather had raised him, and that was all they knew because he never, ever talked about his parents.

“Get out of here before I forget I’m not legally allowed to kill you.”

His father grunted with laughter and pain as he pulled himself up. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

He had no idea.

“Good to see you as always, son.”

“
Go
.” Nolan had no idea where his father would go or how he would get there. He’d stopped caring about such things years ago, right around the time his father had started hitting him up for money. He used to pray to a God he no longer believed in to do him a huge favor and rid the world of Vernon Roberts. However, God saw fit to take Caleb Guthrie instead, and Nolan had lost all faith in the Almighty after that.

Waiting until Vernon staggered toward the driveway and walked out of sight, Nolan went into the house, slamming the door behind him. Seeing his father always set him off, filling him with anger and resentment and despair. When his grandfather had been alive, he’d encouraged Nolan to rise above the anger, not to let his father get to him and not to take on his father’s problems when Vernon had made it very clear that he wanted money and only money from his family. All other offers of help had been rebuffed often enough that they’d stopped trying a long time ago.

Even with his grandfather’s voice in his head preaching self-preservation, Nolan felt like a monster for leaving his father out in the cold. He stoked up the fire in his wood stove and sat on a footstool to remove his boots. Wasn’t that the ultimate irony? The guy had never done a single thing other than make Nolan’s life miserable, and he still felt bad for not offering him shelter for the night.

He shook his head with disgust at himself, at his father, at the family he’d had the poor fortune to be born into, for all the years he’d wished for something normal as he cobbled together a family made up of friends such as Skeeter, who was one of the few who knew the truth about Nolan’s parents. Their oddly dysfunctional relationship filled a void in Nolan’s life—a void left by a drunken father who’d never given a shit about his son.

Tired of dwelling on things that couldn’t be changed, Nolan’s thoughts shifted to Hannah and the evening he’d spent wrapped up in her. His despair resurfaced when it dawned on him that if she spent time with him, eventually she’d be subjected to Vernon. A bolt of fear shot through him, making him sit up straighter as he tried to picture beautiful, kind, sweet Hannah in the company of a dirtbag like Vernon Roberts.

Nolan dropped his head into his hands, wishing he had the strength to stay away from her so that scenario would never unfold. He could wish for that kind of strength, but he was powerless to stay away, and he’d do everything he could to make sure her path and Vernon’s never crossed.

No matter what it took.

CHAPTER 11

Caleb had a hat trick in last night’s game and sent UVM to the playoffs. I’m so proud of him. We heard scouts from the Bruins and a couple other NHL teams will be at the playoffs. His coach said he could easily go pro, but he’s not sure if that’s what he wants. I love to watch him play hockey. He’s amazing! He talks about going into the army and loves the ROTC program, but I want him to pursue hockey. As rough as it can be (and he’s the roughest one on the ice), it’s still “safer” than the military. The thought of him in the army scares me, which he says is silly. We’ve had a few fights over this decision, which will have to be made in the next year or so.

—From the diary of Hannah Abbott, age twenty

A
fter a restful night of dreamless sleep, Hannah enjoyed her first cup of coffee in the kitchen, which boasted a spectacular view of Butler Mountain. She missed Homer and their morning routine, but every time the sorrow threatened to intrude, she tried to think of him with Caleb, which always made her feel better.

Her thoughts returned again and again to Nolan and the time they’d spent together and the surprisingly sensual man who lived beneath his equally sexy exterior. Though she’d known him most of her life, he was still an enigma to her in many ways because he didn’t talk endlessly the way Caleb had, sharing every thought that popped into his always busy mind.

Nolan was much more reserved, self-contained in a way that kept him somewhat removed from the rest of them even when he was right in the middle of the fray with their group of friends. There was so much she didn’t know about him, so much she had yet to learn about him, and she couldn’t wait to see him again.

The phone rang on the counter, jarring her out of her daydreams about Nolan. Her brows knitted when she saw the veterinary clinic’s phone number on the caller ID as she took the call.

“Hi, Hannah. It’s Myles.”

“Hi, Myles.”

“I hope I’m not calling too early.”

“Not at all. I’ve been up for a while.”

“I was thinking of you, because of Homer and everything . . .”

“That’s very nice of you. I miss him, but it’s nice to think of him being reunited with Caleb. They were such buddies.”

“Yes,” Myles said, his tone hushed. “They certainly were. So, um, the other reason I called is I wanted to ask if maybe you might like to have dinner sometime.”

Hannah winced and closed her eyes. “It’s so nice of you to ask, Myles.”

“I hear a
but
in there.”

“I’m seeing someone.” Hannah cringed as she held the phone tighter. If she had her druthers, her personal life would remain just that—but that was almost impossible in a small town like Butler, where everyone knew her and Nolan and where everyone would be interested in them as a couple.

“Is it Nolan?”

“Yes.”

“I thought I might’ve seen more than friendship between you two the other night, but I wasn’t sure. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make things awkward between us.”

“You haven’t. I appreciate you calling and everything you did for me when Homer died.”

“I was happy to help out. Give me a call when you’re ready to bury him, and I’ll take care of everything for you.”

She’d already invited him to the funeral in appreciation of his special care of Homer as he aged. “Thank you so much, Myles. I’ll call you next week.”

“Sounds good.”

Hannah put down the cordless phone as the doorbell rang. Was it going to be that kind of day? She went to the front door and opened it to find her sisters, Ella and Charley, holding cups of coffee and a bag from the bakery. “Why are you ringing the bell?”

“We were told we’re no longer allowed to walk right in,” Charley said with her typical bluntness. She shared her lighter coloring with their brothers Will and Wade, while Ella had dark hair and eyes like Hannah and Hunter. “And of course we had to come over to find out why.”

“Of course you did,” Hannah said, amused as she stepped aside to admit her younger sisters.

When they were settled around the kitchen table, Charley broke out warm cinnamon buns and put them on the plates Hannah provided.

The cinnamon scent made Hannah’s mouth water as her sisters watched her warily.

“Are you going to make us drag it out of you?” Charley asked.

“Stop being such a bull in a china shop,” Ella said. “She’ll tell us when she’s ready to.”

“Um, hello, this is
Hannah
,” Charley reminded Ella. “She’s never going to be ready to tell us, so we have to pull it out of her. Just like always. Remember how long she’d been sucking face with Caleb before she admitted he was her boyfriend?” Charley looked at Hannah, stricken by what she’d said. “I’m sorry. Bad example.”

“It’s okay to talk about him, Charley. I’d hate for you or anyone to think you can’t mention his name around me. You know that.”

“You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to,” Ella said, kind as always. Hannah had never, ever heard her say a bad word about anyone. Ever. “We mostly wanted to see how you’re coping after Homer died.”

“I’m okay. He’s with Caleb, and that makes me happy.”

Ella’s eyes shone with unshed tears as she got busy with her breakfast.

“
She
might not want to know why we have to knock now, but I still want to know,” Charley said over a mouthful of sweet confection. “Just for the record.”

“It astounds me at times that you two came from the same parents,” Hannah said.

“It astounds me on a daily basis,” Ella said dryly, making the three of them laugh.

“You guys love me,” Charley said. “You know you do.”

“Someone has to,” Hannah said.

“Insult me all you want. I still need to know what you’ve been up to, big sister.”

“A little of this, and a little of that,” Hannah said, gratified when both of them stared at her.

“With
who
?” Charley asked.

“It’s actually
whom
,” Ella said.

“Shut up!” Charley said, tossing a napkin at her. “We’re just getting to the good stuff.”

Hannah shot them a withering look. “
Whom
do you think?”

“Nolan?” Ella asked hopefully.

Hannah nodded and then covered her ears when they started shrieking.

“Hail freaking Mary,” Charley said. “Finally! Was it good?”

“Charley!” Ella said. “Don’t you dare ask her that!” Even as she said the words though, Ella stared at Hannah seeming to hope she might share the dirty details.

Charley scowled at her. “Why not? If anyone deserves a good lube and filter job from the hottest mechanic in Vermont, it’s Hannah.”

Hannah was too busy laughing to reply to that audacious statement. A lube and filter job? Where did Charley come up with this stuff?

“He is pretty hot,” Ella agreed. “He’s all dark and broody and mysterious.”

“And built like a brick shithouse,” Charley added. “Don’t forget that.”

“True,” Ella said. “And I love the hint of silver in his hair. You can tell he’s going to be a hot older guy, too. You know how some guys get handsomer as they get older?”

Charley nodded in agreement.

“Nolan will be like that. Don’t you think so, Hannah?”

“Oh you two remembered I was here?”

“Stop being all secretive and spill the beans,” Charley said.

“What did you hear?” Hannah asked, stirring cream into her coffee.

“Mom said we have to ring the bell at your house from now on,” Ella said. “That’s all she said.”

Hannah was thankful for her parents’ discretion, but unfortunately they’d told her sisters just enough to whet their appetites. “The night Homer died, Nolan had come over to go to dinner and he ended up staying with me. They came in the next morning, and he was still here—on the sofa and fully clothed.” Did they look disappointed or was that her imagination?

“And nothing happened?” Charley asked.

“I never said that.”

Charley smacked her palm on the table, making the other two startle. “I knew it! Do tell!”

“You don’t have to, Hannah,” Ella said, eyeing Charley warily.

“Yes, she does,” Charley said. “We’ve waited years for her to start dating again. I want every detail.”

“You’re not getting every detail,” Hannah said. “All I’ll say is I like him, I like being with him and I like kissing him. That’s it.”

“That’s so awesome,” Ella said dreamily, a wistful expression occupying her face.

“So you haven’t . . . you know . . . done
it
yet?” Charley asked.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no,” Hannah said.

“Are you scared to do that with someone else?” Ella asked.

Her question went straight to the heart of Hannah’s deepest anxiety about getting involved with someone new. If last night’s emotional meltdown was any indication of what might happen during the actual act, she had good reason to be worried. “A little.”

Ella’s hand covered Hannah’s on the table. “You should take your time and go really slow.”

“No way,” Charley said. “Just do it and get it over with. Until you do, it’ll be all you think about—and worry about.”