What the Heart Needs (24 page)

“Can I help you?” Elliott asked, his voice a sight more friendly than he had been the night before to pretty Emily.

The woman laughed, causing at least five strings of beads to beat against her chest. “Oh you don’t have to pull that ‘I better be nice to the old broad’ thing with me. I know you’re one sour man usually.”

“Do I know you?” he asked, his voice his usual clipped tone.

“Oh heavens no. No. How could you think that. I aint never seen you before nor you me. No. I am Maude. Maude Mays. I knew you were here last night but that was an unnatural hour to come calling. So I just waited. Anywho. The Clary’s house is the other way. Back toward the inn. Take a right down the next street. It says Pine Berry Lane. They live at fourteen.” she said, turning as if to walk away.

“Wait… how did you…”

“Oh honey,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him but moving forward. “I know everything.”

Elliott shook his head at the weirdness. How could someone know why he was there? Who he was there to see? Whatever the reason, he turned and started back toward the street Maude Mays had indicated.

He got to fourteen, a neat pretty cottage with a creative rainbow colored cobblestone path to the front door. He strode up quickly, knocking three times before he could lose his nerve.

The door opened quickly as if someone had just been passing by as he walked up. In the open door stood Mrs. Clary, her black hair in a messy bun with two knitting needles sticking out of it. She smiled at him, automatically charming and kind. “Hi can I help you?”

“I… umm… yes. I am looking for Hannah,” he said, feeling like a teenager asking the parents if he could take their only daughter on a date.

A crease formed between Mrs. Clary’s eyebrows. “I’m sorry but Hannah doesn’t live here. She hasn’t for many years.”

“Oh,” Elliott said, his shoulders sinking. “I thought she had come here for a visit. My apologies,” he said and was down the path before she could comment further. She closed the door and he pictured her going right for the phone to call Hannah.

They hadn’t seen her, he realized as he made his way back into the inn. She wasn’t in Stars Landing. She wasn’t at work. She wasn’t at her apartment. Where the hell was she?

His slight worry from the day before rose to a real, tangible dread. What was going on?

He closed the front door to the inn too roughly, making someone who had been sitting reading in the seating area to jump and look over. He walked toward the stairs only to be grabbed by his upper arm.

“Not so fast,” Emily’s voice found him and he turned quickly. Her eyes looked angry, her features serious. “What the hell are you doing looking for Hannah?”

Elliott felt his stomach tighten. God, what had he gotten himself into?

Emily nonetoogently pulled him back toward the reception desk, checking around before speaking again. “I asked you a question. Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Elliot Michaels.”

“Elliot Micheals. I know. I checked you in. Wait. Oh. EM. You’re EM. As in the place. As in where Hannah works.” A look of sincere worry crossed her face. “What’s going on? Where’s Hannah?”

Elliott ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. She left a note yesterday saying she would be gone for two weeks. No reason. She hasn’t been answering her phone. She wasn’t at home. I’m worried.”

Emily’s eyebrow raised a bit. She knew it was more than him looking for his employee. She was a keen, intelligent young woman. “Her mom cant get in touch with her. And even I haven’t heard from her in days,” she supplied and Elliott was left realizing this woman was one of Hannah’s friends, someone she must have grown up with. “This isn’t like her. She always answers. She doesn’t want to worry anyone. Was something wrong with her?”

“She’s been… off lately. I dunno. Seems upset about something.”

“Shit,” Emily said, reaching for her phone and punching a number. She let it ring and hung up, frustrated.

“You seem to know her,” Elliott said, hopeful. “where would she go?”

Emily shrugged, raising her hands in defeat for a moment before a light hit her eyes. “Sam’s. She would go to Sam’s.”

“Who is Sam?” he asked, trying not to sound jealous.

“Her ex from when they were kids. She would probably go there. And he wouldn’t rat on her. They were always really close. They haven’t talked in forever but if something was wrong and she didn’t want to be pestered about it, she would go see him.”

“Where is he?” Elliott asked, grabbing a pen and random piece of paper off the desk.

“Here. He lives here. Just way on the outskirts. Hold on, I’ll get an adress.”

He felt oddly energized driving down the long dirt road that Emily swore would eventually lead to this Sam Flynn’s farm.
You’ll know it when you see it.
He wasn’t entirely sure what that was supposed to mean. He imagined she meant it was impressive.

Despite his efforts not to, he found himself wondering why Hannah would run to this Sam person. Emily had said they had barely been in contact in years. But she had also said they had been together since they were twelve or thirteen or something like that. And they broke up when Hannah went away to college. Sam’s roots were buried deep and Hannah needed to spread her wings. It sounded like that was the only reason for the dissulution of their relationship. Five or six years was a long time to spend with someone. And if she was running back to him, there was no way he was going to win her back with the idea of being his mistress. He couldn’t compete.

Elliott cursed, grabbing the steering wheel and forcing himself to not go there. There was some other reason Hannah went back to him, especially without telling her parents or her best friend. He was going to find out what it was, fix it, and bring her back with him.

Emily had been right. He knew it the moment it came into view, the impressive colonial on an enormous plot of land. Everything was new, expensive. Apparently Sam Flynn was doing well for himself. Which was not an easy feat in a small town.

He cut off the engine, walked up the path, and hit the door knocker five times before his nerves got the better of him. He stood there a long, dragging minute before the door finally opened. He had, irrationally, imagined Hannah answering the door, surprised but somehow happy to see him though she would never admit it. But this was Sam Flynn.

All disheveled dark blond or light brown hair and warm brown eyes. He wore a black and red flannel shirt completely unbuttoned with a white t-shirt underneath and faded blue jeans. As soon as the door was open, a huge, ironic smile spread across the man’s face followed by a throaty chuckle. “Of course,” he said, shaking his head and then stepped aside, waving him in.

Elliott raised a brow but followed the man inside, through his well decorated house toward the back which opened to a large kitchen. Sam still hadn’t said anything else, but he grabbed two coffee cups out of the cabinet, filled one and handed it to him all the while with a smile pulling at his lips.

“Hold on, one minute,” Sam said, practically bouncing off to the foyer where he stood at the base of the steps and called upward, his voice playful and teasing, the kind of tone you used with someone you grew up with. “Oh, Hannaaaah,” he called and promptly ignored whatever her muffled voice said from upstairs. “can you come to the kitchen for a minute?” he asked, walking back and leaning against the refrigerator.

Elliott could hear footsteps above, a slamming sound and a curse, and then her steps on the stairs. His heart was beating a foolishly fast pace. What was he so nervous about? Maybe it was just relief. A bone deep relief that he had indeed found her and that she was okay. And, he admitted reluctantly, that it didn’t seem like anything was going on between her and this Sam guy.

Hannah walked into the doorway, barefoot in slim fit blue jeans and a tight white t-shirt. Her long, shiny black hair was loose, falling down toward her waist. Her face was bare, he noticed, realizing he hadn’t ever really seen her completely makeup free. She always had a little something- mascara or lipstick, something. She looked younger, her grey eyes brighter.

“What’s so impo…” she trailed off, her eyes widening comically and her mouth falling open.

A few beats passed before he found his voice. “Hannah,” he said, her name at once sounding like relief and accusation.

From the end of the room, Sam laughed and Elliott could see his obviously easy smile spread across his face again. “Alright. Well then,” Sam’s voice broke the awkward silence, sounding amused. “I am going to go… anywhere but here,” he said and disappeared to some unknown room in the house. Though he was definitely still in the house Elliott knew… a protective older brother type for sure.

“What are you doing here?” Hannah’s voice accused, sounding confused but angry.

“That’s a great question. I could ask you the same thing,” he said, sipping his coffee and grabbing the extra cup Sam had poured and holding it out to her.

She looked down at it like she didn’t recognize what it was for a moment, before taking it and holding it between her two hands in front of her chest. A barrier. Closed-off Hannah. “No you really cant ask the same thing. This is my hometown. This is my friend’s house. It’s not weird that I am here. It is, however, extremely strange for you to be here.”

Elliott almost smiled. His haughty, defensive Hannah. “No one knew where you were Hannah. Tad was clueless. You neighbor had some story about you leaving very early and looking worried. You didn’t answer your phone…”

“It’s dead,” she said, sounding ticked.

“So charge it,” he cut back, his voice sounding like a teacher chastising a student. “So I was concerned. So I came to Stars Landing. And some random lady on the street who I have never seen before told me where your parents lived…”

“Maude Mays,” Hannah supplied, automatically. “She’s…ah… the town psychic,” she admitted, sounding sheepish.

Elliott smiled a little. That did… and didn’t… explain what happened. “Anyway I went there…”

“You went to my parents,” her voice shot out, sounding angry, but more worried than anything else.

“And they hadn’t heard from you either. So I went back to the inn…”

“The inn,” Hannah asked, her eyes widening again. He could just see the thoughts swirling around in her mind. He could practically read the name “Emily” cross her face.

“And got accosted by the girl there,” he said, a slight smile tugging at his lip.

“Emily,” Hannah supplied.

“Right. Emily. She’s a real piece of work,” he mused. “And she had just heard from your parents who couldn’t get in touch with you either. And Emily tried calling you as well. So then she realized you would probably end up here so she gave me the address.”

“She gave you the address,” Hannah repeated dumbly, making it sound like betrayal.

“Everyone is really worried about you, Hannah,” Elliott said, his voice soft.

“They shouldn’t have even known, Mr. Michaels,” she spat out his name like venom. “I told you I was taking a two week vacation, damn it. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” his voice stayed calm and he smartly resisted reminding her that she wasn’t entitled to a two week vacation yet. He could imagine the rage rising in her face at that comment. “You’re running away from something.”

“Don’t tell me what I am doing,” she snapped. “Thank you for your concern. I will contact my parents and Emily and Tad and even nosey Mrs. What’s-her-name next door and set the record straight,” she said, slamming her coffee mug on the counter. “I will see you when I return to work,” she said, turning to storm out the room.

Elliott put his mug down and gently grabbed her arm. Her entire body stilled at the contact and he walked up behind her, his body a mere whisper from hers. “I,” he enunciated meaningfully. “was worried about you, Hannah.”

Her shoulder slumped slightly and her head dipped forward.

“It is obviously isn’t a coincidence that you ran off out here the night after we slept together,” he said, his hand sliding up her arm toward her shoulder where he ran his hand over her hair. “I didn’t get the chance to talk to you about…”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she broke in hastily, quick to try to brush it under the rug.

Elliott leaned forward, his lips brushing next to her ear. “We both know that isn’t true.” He resisted the urge to turn her around to face him, but her embarrassment was tangible, a vibrating aura around her whole body. She wasn’t someone who liked these kinds of conversations and he was willing to spare her the awkwardness of having to face him because he wasn’t exactly great with communication either.

“It’s not going to happen again.”

“Which is exactly what you said to yourself the first time, isn’t it?” he asked, and she stiffened. “It is going to happen again. And again. And again. If I have anything to say about it. But we need to talk about it like adults.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But you do want me,” he said, unconcerned about her discomfort any longer, he turned her to face him and tipped her chin up with his thumb. “Tell me,” he urged, sounding more needy than he liked.

“Yes,” she answered, looking downward.

Elliott saw a pink rising in her cheeks, completely charming. Before he spoke again, he leaned down quickly and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. Her eyes shot up to his quickly, shocked. “So let’s talk about it,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the table.

He had never been in the position of demanding better communication. He had always been on the receiving end of women wanting to sit down and “have a talk” about where their relationships (or lack thereof) was going. It felt awkward and forced. He was on forgeign soil and he was somehow leading the troop.

Hannah’s face was trained on her cup of coffee, but her shoulders were pulled back and high.

“This thing with us,” he started, visibly wincing at the word “us”. “if we’re honest with ourselves, it isn’t going to stop.”

“It has to,” Hannah broke in, looking up for a moment, her chin lifted and her eyes fierce.

“But it wont,” he shook his head, smiling a little. “We are in close contact all day and all night…”