Chapter 71 Avoidance
Hannah
The rest of the day passed like I was underwater.
Sounds were muffled. Movements were slow. Faces blurred together as I smiled, nodded, said the right things at the right time, all while my mind replayed Sienna’s words on a merciless loop.
You’re catching feelings for him.
I moved on autopilot; washing bowls, locking kennels, saying goodbye to animals who deserved better certainty than I felt inside my own chest. When closing time came, I plastered on a smile so practiced it felt like muscle memory.
“See you tomorrow,” I told one of the volunteers.
“Drive safe, Hannah.”
“You too,” I said to Sienna, forcing brightness into my voice.
She studied me for half a second longer than necessary. “Text me when you get home?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I will.”
The ride home was quiet. I watched the city slide by the window, lights flickering on as dusk settled in, my reflection staring back at me like a stranger. By the time the car pulled into the estate, my chest felt tight and hollow all at once.
Thankfully, Timothy wasn’t home yet.
That knowledge brought relief and a sharp stab of guilt.
Inside, Lisa met me near the stairs. “Good evening, Mrs. Blackwood. Would you like dinner set in the dining room?”
I shook my head quickly. “No. I’ll eat upstairs. And… food for Momo too, please.”
She paused, eyes sharp, assessing. “Shall I alert Mr. Blackwood?”
“No,” I said a bit too fast, then softened it. “I’d like not to be disturbed tonight.”
Her gaze lingered, piercing, like she could see straight through the carefully stacked walls inside me.
Then she nodded. “As you wish, Mrs. Blackwood.”
Upstairs, I changed into soft clothes, an oversized T-shirt and leggings and let my hair fall loose. Momo followed me everywhere, nails clicking softly on the floor, until I set his bowl down.
“There you go,” I murmured, scratching behind his ears. “At least one of us knows what they want.”
He wagged his tail, blissfully uncomplicated.
Dinner arrived shortly after. I ate sitting on the edge of the bed, pushing food around more than actually consuming it. Every few bites, my mind drifted back.
Midnight cereal.
Bare feet in the kitchen.
Laughter that came too easily.
I swallowed hard.
When I was done, I curled back against the pillows, Momo climbing onto my lap like he sensed the need. His warmth grounded me, even as the house remained unnervingly quiet.
Then, I heard voices.
Low murmurs downstairs.
Timothy.
My heart jumped traitorously.
I heard Lisa speaking, her voice calm and efficient. Timothy responded, deeper, tired. The sound of his footsteps followed, steady and unmistakable as they climbed the stairs.
Panic flared.
I scrambled under the covers, pulling Momo with me, turning on my side and squeezing my eyes shut just as his steps slowed outside my door.
A knock.
“Hannah?” His voice was gentle. “You in there?”
I held my breath.
Another knock, firmer this time. “Are you asleep?”
Momo lifted his head, ears twitching.
I pressed a finger to my lips, eyes wide, silently begging him not to betray me.
Please. Please.
Seconds stretched unbearably thin.
Timothy exhaled on the other side of the door. “Okay,” he murmured. “Good night.”
Footsteps retreated.
Only then did I breathe again, chest heaving as if I’d been underwater too long. My body slowly loosened, tension draining out of me in shaky waves.
I stared at the wall, bitter amusement curling in my chest.
Last night, we’d shared cereal in the dark.
Tonight, I was hiding from him like a coward.
I tightened my arms around Momo, pressing my face into his fur as my thoughts spiraled.
How had I let it get here?
I’d spent so long protecting myself; being guarded, cautious, braced for disappointment. And now, because of laughter and shared silences and stupid, soft moments, I was unraveling.
Because wanting him was dangerous.
Because caring meant risk.
And because the hardest truth of all was this:
Avoiding him hurt almost as much as facing what I felt.
I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing just for tonight that sleep would come fast enough to silence my thoughts.