Before Hannah could stop herself, she’d turned and walked on her knees across the bed, wrapping her arms around Fox’s neck, hugging him in a manner that was freakishly tight, but she couldn’t seem to make herself stop. Especially when his arms crept up and surrounded her, pulling Hannah to his chest, his face dropping into the slope of her neck.
“You sang for me last night,” she said. “You brought me as close as I’ll ever get to Henry. That wasn’t nothing.”
“Hannah . . .”
“And after what you told me last night, I could sit here for hours and rant about toxic masculinity and undervaluing yourself, but I’m not going to do that. I’m just going to tell you that . . . I’ll be back tonight and that you’re really important to me.”
His swallow was audible. “We sail for five nights on Wednesday. Two days from now. Kind of a longer trip than usual. I just . . . If you were curious or wanted to know when I’d be gone.”
“Of course I want to know.” She pressed her lips together. “That means you’ll come home the day we wrap on Glory Daze.”
They looked at each other hard, neither of them seeming to know what to do with that information. Timelines, schedules, leaving, coming back. How it related to them as two people who’d just slept in the same bed.
So she kissed his coarse cheek and gave him a final squeeze, trying not to notice the way his hips shifted, his mouth breathing hard against her neck. “Just this, Hannah?” His long fingers slid up into her hair to cradle the back of her head, subtly tilting it to the left and brushing his lips along her pulse. “Just hugging for us?”
With one word of encouragement, Hannah knew she would be flat on her back and would love every second. But maybe . . . maybe her mission here wasn’t to be the supportive friend, but to prove to Fox that he could be one. That his presence and personality were enough without any of the physical trappings. “Just like this.”
Was she asking a lot of Fox to try seeing himself in a new light? Wasn’t she in the process of doing that herself—and not finding it very easy? Maybe if she wanted this man to believe he could captain a ship and rely on his wit and humor and spirit alone, then she had to believe in herself first. She couldn’t ask him to reach for a higher summit if she wasn’t willing to reach herself.
The opening notes of “I Say a Little Prayer” by Aretha Franklin tumbled through Hannah’s head, and her eyes flew open, a grateful smile curving her lips. Hallelujah. The songs were back. Sure, the lyrics were a little alarming, considering she was lying in Fox’s bed, but maybe the whole song didn’t have to pertain to their relationship. Just some of it? Just the prayer parts, maybe?
Hannah swallowed. Why had the songs returned now? Had listening to Fox sing Henry’s shanties last night shaken them loose? The beckoning of a new direction for her career? Or did the return of her music-minded thinking mean something else?
Reluctant to examine the possibilities too closely, Hannah allowed herself a long inhale of Fox’s scent, then unwound her arms from his neck, refusing to acknowledge the low pulse between her legs or the flapping in her chest. Not today. Probably not ever.
She climbed off the bed, her back warmed by his attention, left the room, and went into the bathroom. Once she’d showered, dressed, and blown out her hair, she stopped in the living room, hesitating a moment before picking up the folder full of original sea shanties and holding them to her chest. With Fox nowhere in sight, she left the apartment, returning once for an umbrella due to the clouds moving in overhead. But instead of heading down to today’s shooting site, she let the hook in her gut pull her toward the record store, instead.
* * *
Hannah sighed when Disc N Dat came into view, nondescript and lacking in any signage, the blue Christmas lights adorning the window the only indication that it was open for business.
Last summer, she’d taken a part-time job at the record store. Mainly to add enough money to their budget that Piper wouldn’t have to cook anymore and potentially burn the building down. But she’d also needed a way to occupy herself so Piper wouldn’t feel terrible about spending more time with Brendan. Throw in the fact that Hannah lived for records, and it had been the perfect short-term gig.
A sense of familiarity settled over Hannah when her hand curled around the bronze handle and pulled, the smell of incense and coffee wafting out and beckoning her into the musty haven. She was relieved, especially today, to see that nothing had changed. Disc N Dat was still reliably dated and welcoming, the same posters that had been there over the summer still pinned to the wall, row after row of Christmas lights twinkling on the ceiling, Lana Del Rey rasping quietly from the recessed speaker.