Page 56 of Just My Type (The Boston Hearts #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

HANNAH

“ O kay,” I say, gasping a little bit as the band finally shifts to a slow song. “I need a break. And water. And to burn these shoes.”

“I told you to wear the sneakers,” Jo says, bouncing energetically on her pink-Converse clad toes like she hasn’t been dancing for hours with barely a break. “I could dance all night.”

“She’s right, Hans,” Amelia says, wrapping an arm around my waist as we head off the dance floor. “I don’t know why you were so committed to the heels. I mean, they’re pretty and they make your legs look sexy as fuck, but I’m not sure anything is worth that kind of pain.”

I grimace at the ache in my feet. “An hour ago, I would have argued with you, but right now? My life for a pair of flats.”

“That’s why I love being pregnant,” Molly says, linking her arm through mine. “An excuse to wear flats and I get to eat all the cake I want.”

Julie rolls her eyes. “You hate being pregnant. On the way here you were complaining about how much you missed heels, you told me you would literally kill someone for a margarita, and you ate all the cake you wanted even before you were pregnant.”

Amelia laughs, bumping her hip to Molly’s. “She not wrong, Mol. The complaining this morning was really top tier.”

Molly just laughs too. “Listen, I am who I am, even when I’m growing a whole ass human. And at least we’re all not drinking together.”

Molly immediately slams her mouth shut like she didn’t mean to say that, and as soon as her words register, I stop in my tracks, painful heels be damned, looking between Molly, Julie, and Emma.

Then I turn my gaze on Hallie, who has a mixture of guilt and joy spreading over her face.

“Hang the fuck on. What do you mean you’re all not drinking together? ”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jo says, putting her hands to her hips and looking accusingly at Hallie. “You skipped the very excellent cocktails Ben made last night, and I haven’t seen you drink anything this entire day. You’re pregnant.”

A beaming smile spreads over Hallie’s face. “I am.”

Jo and I both squeal in unison and fold Hallie into a hug. “Why didn’t you tell us?” Jo demands when we break apart.

Hallie shrugs. “It’s your wedding day, Jo Jo. I didn’t want to take away from that. I’m only like seven weeks. I’m going to be pregnant for a long damn time. It could wait until after you got married.”

Jo wraps Hallie in another hug. “Hal, there’s enough happiness to go around. You didn’t have to wait.”

“So…all of you?” I say, looking at Hallie’s friends and zeroing in on Julie. “Isn’t your baby like seven months old?”

“Yep,” Julie sighs. “I’m only freaking out a little bit. Asher is over the moon, obviously, since he wants, like, a full football team of babies. I’m mostly just trying to keep my shit together.”

“Join the club,” Emma says, her eyes shining with happiness and fun.

“I don’t know how it’s possible that we all ended up with a surprise pregnancy at almost exactly the same time, but at least we get to do it together.

And anyway, you’ll be great. You and Asher are, like, the best parents I’ve ever seen. ”

“Bite your tongue, Ems. We’re the best parents of all time.

” Emma’s husband, Jeremy, sidles up behind her with all his former hockey player swagger and wraps his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her neck.

“And we’ve also been parents the longest, which means we have the most experience. Most experience means the best.”

“Fuck right off with that.” Asher wraps an arm around Julie’s waist, tugging her closer to his side and grinning down at her with a dreamy expression on his face. “We’re the hottest parents around.”

“Hottest does not mean best, pal of mine.” Ben drops an arm around Hallie’s shoulders. “We have twins, which means we’re already parents of the year. You guys can all fight over second place.”

Gabe scoffs, wrapping an arm around Molly’s waist and pressing a hand to her bump. “I raised my sisters, and now I’m raising my own kids. I’m the fucking parent of the year. Tell them Ames.” Gabe grins at Amelia and she rolls her eyes.

“You only call yourself my dad when it suits you.”

Gabe’s grin spreads. “And right now, it suits me.”

“Are they fighting over who’s the best dad again?” Jordan’s voice is full of amusement as he tugs Jo against his side and drops a kiss on her lips.

A laugh bubbles out of me, my chest warm as I watch these guys together, full of so much love for each other and for their girls.

And Hallie and her friends, who have been through so much together and are sisters in every way that matters.

I used to be a little jealous of the relationship that Hallie had with her friends, but as I look at her, at Jo and Amelia, I realize that I have exactly what she has.

Women I love who love me back. Who will be there for me always and no matter what.

Sisters, by blood and by choice.

I glance to my right, my eyes finding Noah again where he stands laughing with his mom, and his eyes catch mine. His face lights up and he winks, and I feel my smile spread.

I have him too.

We are all the lucky ones.

I didn’t know life could feel like this.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom,” I say to Amelia, who drifted over to me while the conversation shifted to weird pregnancy shit and something about a countdown to a delivery room margarita. My head is swimming with the emotion of this day, and I need a minute to get myself together.

“Take me with you,” she whispers dramatically. “I didn’t realize there were so many ways for pregnancy to suck.”

I laugh, linking my arm with hers and giving her a squeeze. “I would, but I think you’re about to be swept away.”

Amelia looks over and smiles as Elliot comes up and takes her hand, bringing it to his lips. “Dance with me, Mystery Girl?” he says, his eyes full of love.

“Always” She gives my arm a squeeze as Elliot pulls her away and straight to the dance floor.

With one last look at all my people, I head towards the bathrooms, feeling lighter than air.

“Ugh,” I mutter, glancing in the bathroom mirror. When I got dressed with Hallie and Jo this morning, I looked amazing. But after hours of dancing, drinking, and sundry other wedding festivities, the wheels have kind of come off the wagon.

Wetting a paper towel, I dab under my eyes to wipe away the mascara smudges and then fix the once perfect, now wild hair that has a mind of its own today.

Deeming it the best I can do, I toss the paper towels in the trash.

Straightening the top of my dress, I smile as I feel the wedding ring pinned to the inside, a frisson of excitement racing through me at the thought of being alone with Noah tonight.

Of finishing the conversation we started earlier.

I love him so fucking much, and I can’t wait to tell him.

With that thought in my head, I push out the bathroom door, colliding immediately with a hard wall of muscle as big hands latch onto my hips.

The cloying, heavy scent of cologne makes my stomach churn at its familiarity at the same time as the voice that lived rent free in my head for months every time I tried to write so much as a word speaks directly into my ear, dripping with condescension and something unhinged enough to have a kernel of fear lodging in my stomach.

“Took you long enough, Hannah. It’s just like you to keep me waiting. You never did care about anyone but yourself.”

Brett .

Every instinct I have screams at me to turn.

To run. To get away from him as fast as I can.

I try to do exactly that, but when I make a move to twist away, I don’t get very far.

Locking an arm tightly around my waist, he holds me against him and spins us into the dim, shadowy corner by the bathroom, pressing me against the wall with his body.

“Let go of me.” I hate how small my voice sounds. The way it shakes. The satisfaction that crosses his face when he registers my fear. His humorless smile and the way he shrugs like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Eventually. We’re going to have a little talk first.”

He looms above me and I try to move, panic lancing up my spine as I realize I’m trapped, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I can practically feel the bruises already forming. I try to speak again, but the words are lodged in my throat, unable to make it past the tight ball of terror.

“You thought you could just leave me and that would be that?” Brett lets out a dark chuckle, shoving one of his thick thighs between my legs, pinning me tighter against the wall.

The stale, yeasty smell of beer on his breath makes my stomach heave, and as he studies my face, rakes his gaze down over me and back up again, the feral look in his eyes has a shudder wracking my body. I will myself to say something. Anything. But the words won’t come. I’m frozen to the floor.

“No one leaves me. Not now. Not ever. And especially not you.” He curls his lip in a sneer that would be comical if it wasn’t so terrifying.

Say something.

Move, Hannah.

My brain races. My stomach churns. I can’t do anything but stand and listen as he hurls his fury at me.

“You’re a second-rate author writing smut no one cares about and no one will ever read.

A radical fucking feminist harpy who was never anything more than a shitty girlfriend and an even shittier lay.

You’re fucking lucky I ever even gave you the time of day, and you have the audacity to leave me?

I think fucking not. I’ve bided my time, Hannah.

I’ve waited for you to come back to me. But you didn’t do what I asked.

All you had to do was obey me, and you couldn’t even do that.

So now it’s time for me to show you what happens to bad girls who don’t fucking listen.

Sluts who dance with their brother-in-law’s brother and kiss him in dark corners when you belong to me.

Now you’re going to stand here while I show you what else happens in dark corners when I take what’s mine. ”

The idea that he was watching me and Noah, that this asshole intruded on a moment meant for us and us alone, has fury exploding in my brain, erasing the fear—and it’s about fucking time.

“Fuck off, Brett.”

I try and jerk my leg up to knee him in the balls, but my leg is trapped too tightly between his to do that. Instead, I curl my hands into fists, preparing to hit him, but before I can, he sees the motion, and his smile spreads, wide and mean.

“Did you think you were going to hit me or something? Hannah, Hannah, Hannah. You should know better than that.”

As he finishes speaking, Brett takes a hand from my hip and locks my wrists in his grip, yanking them up over my head and pinning them to the wall as he presses his body tighter against mine. The tightening of his hand around my wrists is the pin pulled on the grenade of my panic.

My brain fuzzes.

My heart slams against my ribs.

My tongue is glued to the top of my mouth and my limbs are heavy with fear.

My blood roars in my ears.

The air is squeezed from my lungs as terror swamps me.

I try and yank my hands away, but Brett just lets out that dark chuckle and tightens his grip again. He’s going to do what he wants with me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him. He’s too big. Too strong. Too angry. Too determined.

Angry men are dangerous men.

Alarm bells clang in my ears, and Brett’s rage rolls out of him in waves.

Cold sweat drips down my spine.

My breath comes in ragged pants.

Yell.

Scream.

Fight.

But I can’t. My body is frozen, and I’m stuck here, with no way to get away and no one coming to my rescue. Gritting my teeth against the panic churning inside me, I close my eyes and surrender.