Page 50

Chapter 50

Hannah

Declan’s beautiful, sleeping face comes into focus as my eyes flutter open. He’s right by my side, and it’s obvious that he slept there overnight. His hand is still clutching mine, and seeing it is almost too much to take in. The words he said before I fell asleep echo in my mind, and my entire body swells with gratitude for him.

I’m so thankful he was there. And that he’s still here.

I sit up carefully so I don’t wake him and spot my parents sleeping in the room too. They’re sitting side-by-side in uncomfortable looking chairs, my mother’s head resting on my father’s shoulder. She must have come back into town when she heard what was happening with me and seeing her there warms my heart.

But my stirring must be louder than I thought because all three of them slowly start to wake up, blinking their sleepy eyes as they try to get their bearings. My mother’s the first one up, and she hurries over to my bedside to stroke my face.

“Oh, thank god, you’re awake. I’ve been dying to see those beautiful eyes all night. Are you okay?”

“I’m feeling alright,” I tell her quietly, and it’s the truth. I am feeling a little better this morning, but anxiety is still writhing inside me waiting to hear what’s actually wrong with me.

Declan and my parents fuss over me a little, all three of them clearly determined to make sure I’m as comfortable as possible, but we’re interrupted when the doctor knocks on the door and steps inside. We all look over at him, and I can feel the subtle shift in the atmosphere of the room. I’m not the only one who’s been anxiously awaiting an update from him.

“We have some answers about your MRI results,” Dr. Landers says carefully, glancing over the papers on his clipboard, and my heart leaps into my throat. But Declan scoops my hand in his, offering silent, unwavering support and instantly bringing down my anxiety. I couldn’t imagine getting whatever life-changing news the doctor is about to give me without Declan here at my side. My heart pounds against my ribcage, and time seems like it starts to stretch out.

“Based on your history of escalating symptoms—the persistent migraines, vision disturbances, and halo effects you’ve been experiencing,” Dr. Landers continues, “we’ve confirmed a diagnosis of intracranial hypertension.”

“There’s no tumor?” I ask, my voice small and fragile.

“No tumor,” Dr. Landers confirms. “No cancer. Just an elevation of cerebrospinal fluid pressure that’s been causing your neurological symptoms.”

I blink at him, trying to process what he just said—because I’m still stuck on the first part.

I don’t have a tumor, and I don’t have cancer .

I can’t stop a little disbelieving laugh from falling out of my mouth. Even though I heard the doctor loud and clear, it’s still hard to comprehend. I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours—hell, longer than that—in a pit of anxiety, convinced I was going to die, but the way Dr. Landers is talking about this cranial thing, he’s making it sound like it’s manageable compared to my worst fears.

“What exactly does that mean?” my mother asks, voicing the question before I can.

“It means there’s an abnormal buildup of pressure in the cerebrospinal fluid surrounding Hannah’s brain,” he explains. “We’ll need to do further tests to understand the underlying cause, but it’s a condition we can manage with medication, potential surgical intervention, and careful monitoring.”

A million more questions are buzzing in my mind, but relief is swirling so thick in my chest that I can’t find the words or get them out even if I could. Dr. Landers chuckles, resting a hand on my shoulder as he gives me an understanding look.

“I know it’s overwhelming. We’ll take this step by step. Right now, the most important thing is that you’re stable.”

My parents and Declan pepper him with a few more questions about how best to take care of me, and he answers them all patiently. He checks my vitals and leaves the room, and it’s not until he’s gone that the relief fully washes over me. A sob comes tumbling out of me, and Declan wraps his arms around me, holding me against his chest. When I glance up, my mother and father have both moved closer to the bed, and the looks of relief on their faces crack something open in me. I reach for their hands, and both of them take one of mine.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” I say quietly, and although concern flashes in their expressions, neither of them says anything. That’s good, because I need to get this all out while I still have the courage to say it, while we’re still in this vulnerable moment. “I don’t want to continue with law school or be a lawyer.”

A beat of silence hangs in the air, and my mother’s brows furrow, her head tilting slightly.

“You don’t?” she says, genuine confusion flickering across her face. “What do you mean?”

“I want to open a yoga studio,” I tell her, my voice growing stronger with each word. As much as I’ve fantasized about telling my parents exactly that, I never once thought I would actually go through with it. But somehow, just saying the words makes the little flame of courage in my chest burn brighter.

My parents exchange a look—one of those married couple glances that speaks volumes without a single word uttered. Neither of them has anything to say immediately, so I glance over at Declan, who smiles encouragingly, silently urging me to go on. My heart is starting to beat a little harder, but I straighten my shoulders, determined to be heard.

“I know this might seem unexpected,” I say, my voice steady now. “But I’ve actually been thinking about it for a while. Yoga is where my passion is. And I’m going to make it work. This isn’t just a dream—I’ve learned so much from Patricia, and I have so many ideas for how I would run my own studio.” I take a deep breath. “It won’t be easy, and it probably won’t pay as much as law,” I add with a little laugh. “But I already have full classes at Yoga Flow, and I know I could build a following at my own studio too.”

My dad chuckles, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “You know, a wise man once told me that I should think more about what you want for yourself than what I want for you. And that’s pretty damn good advice, because what I want the very most for you is to be happy.” He beams at me, and I can actually feel the pride radiating off him. “So if this makes you happy? I say go for it. We’ll have your back the whole way.”

“Of course we will. But I have to ask… why didn’t you say something sooner? It breaks my heart to know you were doing something you didn’t really want to be doing,” my mother says, taking one of my hands in hers to hold it tight against her chest.

A sob wells inside me, and although I’d normally try to fight it back, I let it out. No more secrets. No more hiding. My mother makes a little noise and wraps her arms around me, enveloping me in one of the biggest hugs she’s given me in years. It reminds me of when I was a kid, of all the times she would comfort me or Casey when we were scared or sad—and it makes me remember how close we used to be before we lost him.

That’s why I didn’t tell them. The three of us went through the wringer when Casey died, and things have never been the same between us since. But even with all that distance in the wake of his death, I never wanted to say or do anything that would drive them further away from me. I just wanted to make them happy, to try in my own small ways to somehow make up for losing Casey. But there was never anything I could’ve done to take away that pain for them, so I was only hurting myself—and I see that more clearly now than ever.

“I didn’t want to let you down. After everything with Casey, all I’ve ever wanted was to make you happy, to make up for him being?—”

“Hannah,” my father interrupts, his voice hoarse. He squeezes my other hand so tightly it almost hurts. His expression is more serious than I’ve ever seen him look as he shakes his head. “Listen to me. It’s not your job to ‘make up’ your brother’s loss to us. I don’t ever want you to think for another second that you need to do or be something you aren’t to make your mother and me happy. You are perfect exactly as you are. Do you hear me?”

I nod, my throat tight. My mom releases me, rubbing my back gently, and Declan and my dad share a look over my shoulder.

I couldn’t have known that things would go this well, but after finally having the conversation I’d been dreading, I wonder why I ever thought my parents might judge or reject me for being honest. Granted, a lot has happened, and things are different between us now—so maybe the conversation would’ve gone differently if I’d tried sooner.

I don’t know, but it doesn’t really matter now.

Because right now, I’m healthy. I have Declan. My parents are listening, and they’re okay with me carving out my own path for myself.

And that feels like more than enough.

* * *

By the time the hospital discharges me a few hours later, Declan has already called a car to take me home, although my mother and father were both falling all over themselves to drive me. They don’t seem like they want to let me out of their sight, walking alongside us as Declan pushes me in a wheelchair through the hospital and down to the exit, and they both give me big hugs before he helps me into the back seat of the car.

Declan climbs in beside me, and we’re just pulling out onto the street when his phone starts ringing.

“It’s my mom,” he says, glancing down at the screen. “I should take this.”

“Of course,” I tell him. After what I just went through, I would never want to come between him and checking on his mom. They exchange pleasantries, but then I hear his mom’s voice on the line asking about me.

“Do you want to talk to her? Okay, hold on. Here, it’s for you,” Declan says and passes me the phone. “I was texting with her last night and told her what was going on. She wants to make sure you’re okay.”

Shocked, I take it and hold it to my ear. “Hi, Ms. Murray.”

“Hi, Hannah. I’m so happy to hear you’re okay. I was worried sick all night about you after Declan told me.”

“Really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” his mother says with a warm laugh. “My son’s world revolves around you. That makes you family, and we Murrays put family above everything else.”

“Thank you, that’s so sweet,” I tell her, blinking rapidly. I’ve cried enough for a whole week over the past twenty-four hours, but at least these are happy tears. Declan beams at me and squeezes my leg with his hand.

“Of course. I told Declan to program my number into your phone. If you need anything—anything at all—don’t hesitate to call me. Anytime. Even if it’s just because you’re lonely while Declan’s out of town for a game.”

I laugh. “Okay, I will. Thank you again.” I pass the phone back to Declan and he wraps up their conversation quickly, then drops his phone on the seat between us. “She’s amazing.”

Declan pecks a kiss on my cheek. “So are you, so it only makes sense that you’d get along.”

The rest of the ride back to my apartment passes quickly, and Declan goes inside ahead of me. By the time I make it to my room, he’s already got the bed made and the pillows fluffed and waiting for me. The doctor told me to rest and take it easy, and apparently Declan’s taking that very seriously.

“Right here,” he says, patting my side of the bed as Ralph slinks between and rubs against his legs, purring. She’s as in love with him as ever, and I know exactly how she feels. I lie down gently on the bed, and Declan helps position the pillows under my head and legs so I’m perfectly comfortable. As he reaches to pull the covers up over me, I grab his hand to stop him.

“What do you need?” he asks, his brows furrowed.

“You. Just you.” Smiling, he climbs into bed beside me and pulls me into his arms. “I love you.”

He brushes my hair out of my face and kisses my forehead. “I love you too.” We linger in the silence and the glow of the feelings between us, but something’s still gnawing at me. Finally, I sit up to look down at him.

“I’m sorry for pushing you away. But after the way we lost Casey, I thought I knew what things were going to look like for me, and I couldn’t bear to put you through that.”

“It’s okay. I understand. But from here on out, I want you to know you can tell me anything. No more hiding things from each other, even if it’s supposed to protect. Because I want to be there for you, but I can’t do that if you won’t let me.”

I nod, and he pulls me down to kiss him again. I’ve lost track of the number of times we’ve kissed, but there’s something potent in this one. It’s like everything we’ve ever wanted to say but couldn’t or didn’t have the words for is coming out now, sealed between us.

Declan must be feeling it too because the kiss quickly heats up, but when I try to slip my hand beneath the waistband of his pants, he grabs my wrist and stops me gently. “You need rest, hummingbird, which means I’m not going to fuck you right now.”

I can’t help pouting a bit at that. He’s right, but that doesn’t make it any less disappointing.

He chuckles at my reaction, pressing another chaste kiss to my lips before he adds, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t find another way to entertain you. Hold on.”

Before I can figure out what he means or what he’s up to, he bounces off the bed and goes to pick up the remote for the TV in my room. He turns it on and puts on a movie, a romcom I haven’t seen or heard of, then disappears for a few moments. I hear him rummaging around in the kitchen, and eventually he comes back with a little bag full of stuff. He brings it back to the bed and opens it up, revealing crochet supplies. “I left this here just in case.”

I laugh as I pull out some of the supplies. “Just in case what? You got stranded here and couldn’t crochet?”

Declan winks at me. “Something like that. Here, I’ll show you how to do it,” he says and pulls out the crochet hook and some yarn to demonstrate how it’s done.

I’m hopeless at it, but I’m sure he wasn’t very good when he first started either. And whether I make a mitten full of holes or a masterpiece blanket, I don’t really care. All that matters to me is being here, with him, and spending time together like this.

I curl up in his arms, and he rests his hands on my stomach, still crocheting. He makes it look so fast, so effortless, and I can’t take my eyes off the magic he’s working. I lean deeper into his embrace, and as I breathe in his familiar cedar scent, a sudden thought hits me.

This thing between us was never just about sex. Not even close.

It’s about forever .