Hate to Love You - Chapter 61: Chapter 61

Tristan
I ran through the hospital's main doors, my heart hammering in my chest as I frantically searched for any sign of Hannah.
Did I know I wouldn't find her there? Yeah. But that didn't stop me from looking.
I'd just finished lunch with my parents when I got the call from Matthew. Whatever-the-fuck-her-name-was had called him to tell him what had happened, and he thought I should know. All he could tell me was that some psycho had attacked Hannah, and she was now in this hospital.
The entire drive here, while breaking enough speed limits to put me on the FBI's watch list, I was terrified that she'd been hurt because of me. What if it was another stalker? What if they saw her with me and hurt her because of it? And how badly was she hurt?
My mind spiraled to worst-case scenarios the whole way. I kept picturing her peaceful face from this morning. She was fine when I left — safe. Should I have stayed? Now the regret and guilt ate at me, and I could only blame myself. I should have picked up on the signs sooner, should have been more aware of my surroundings.
But that's the thing — there were none of the usual signs. Surely I would have noticed if someone was following me again?
Everything in my apartment was just as I had left it. There were no consistent, weird messages from unknown numbers. My car was untouched. No one showed up at the stadium during practice, and my family hadn't reported any harassment — except... there were those messages Hannah mentioned. She'd said it was from one of my fans.
Now, she was hurt, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I should have taken those messages more seriously. I had been confident that I would have noticed if it was anything more than what she'd dismissed it as. I'd gotten too comfortable, and now she was paying for it.
And yet, I couldn't bring myself to stay away. Right now, the thought of letting her out of my sight was unbearable — I couldn't fathom staying away from her, not even for a moment. Whether she liked it or not, she was stuck with me.
I approached the reception desk, where a woman in blue scrubs, her white-blonde hair neatly pulled back, glanced up at me. Her wide, black-framed glasses slipped down her nose as she took me in, a flash of recognition in their depths.
"Can I help you?" she inquired.
"Yeah, I'm looking for someone — she was admitted a couple of hours ago. Hannah Walker?" I said, tapping my finger impatiently on the raised desk.
She nodded, her gaze returning to her keyboard as she began typing. "Do you know the room number or have any information about the patient's condition?"
I hesitated, realizing they might not let me see her without proper details. But honesty was my only option. "No, I don't. I just know she's here."
She nodded again, adjusting her glasses. "And are you a family member or a friend of the patient?"
I braced myself, then exhaled slowly. "No," I admitted, gathering my resolve. "I'm her... boyfriend."
The words felt weighty, carrying a sense of commitment and responsibility I'd previously been terrified of. But as soon as they left my mouth the rush they gave me nearly knocked me sideways. I liked the sound of them. I was Hannah's boyfriend, and I wouldn't settle for anything less until she agreed. I was also relentless and I never gave up — I'd get Hannah on board eventually.
"Very well, Mr Beckett. While I know who you are, if you could kindly provide me with some identification, I'll gladly assist you in locating her room." She smiled warmly, awaiting my response.
After digging out my ID and signing some forms, I followed the lady's directions to the Observation Unit, my eyes scanning the halls and rooms I passed for a familiar blonde head.
I came to an abrupt stop when I spotted another familiar blonde head. Sitting on one of the waiting chairs, eyes glued to the Switch in his hands, was none other than Hannah's younger brother, Jason. He was wearing loose shorts and a T-shirt with the number twelve on it. The room in front of him was closed, and the blinds were drawn, leaving me no view inside. Bypassing the room reluctantly, I headed over to where he was.
"Jace," I called, my voice low but firm.
His head shot up, surprise flashing across his face before a wide grin spread across it. "Oh, hey, Tristan." He stood up, looking pleased to see me.
He'd been to a couple of my games this season, and I liked him a lot. He reminded me of my younger self — back when life was simple and all that mattered was playing ball.
"Hey, bud. Is Hannah in there?" I asked, jerking my chin toward the closed door.
He let out a dry laugh. "Yeah. She's in there with our parents. They kicked me out, so I know they're arguing. Can't say I don't feel bad for her."
I frowned at that. It pissed me off to think that while Hannah was possibly injured, her parents were preoccupied with their own bullshit. Based on everything Hannah had shared about them, I knew I wouldn't have an easy time getting along with either of them. But since they'd likely be my in-laws someday, I'd need to play it smart — especially with her mother.
"How is she?" I asked.
He winced, and a knot of unease tightened in my gut. "Have you ever seen The Exorcist?"
It took me a second, but a hint of humor stirred within me, breaking through the tension in my body. Smirking, I said, "Better not let her catch you saying that, or she might go all exorcist on your ass."
"Story of my life," he scoffed, chuckling.
He joked, but beneath the humor, I saw the same concern and love for his sister that I felt. He cared deeply for his sister, and it showed every time they were together. They must have been a tight-knit duo growing up, and I had a feeling he played a significant role in helping her cope with their mother's behavior. I knew he was the main reason she put up with their mother.
I sobered. "How bad is she hurt?"
He met my gaze and answered seriously, "She's going to be okay. She has a mild concussion, and... her neck's in pretty rough shape from being strangled. I couldn't see the damage because her whole neck has been bandaged, but she's starting to lose her voice."
I absorbed everything he said in cool silence, anger beginning to replace the initial terror. Someone had done this to her, and I wanted answers.
"Do you know anything about the girl who did this to her?"
He shook his head. "I'm just the little brother — no one thinks I need to know anything. But I do know that Hannah knew her. And I know..."
"What?" I pressed him.
He shrugged, a troubled look on his face. "She doesn't want to press charges. I don't know why, but that's what everyone's arguing about in there."
I looked back at the room, jaw clenched. There had to be a reason why she didn't want to press charges. I wanted to hear what it was before I made any decisions or assumptions. I trusted her judgment, even if it didn't make sense to me right now. "Think I could talk to her?"
Jace looked uncomfortable, his expression tight with hesitation. "About that," he began, pausing for a moment. "She hasn't exactly told them about you yet. There's a really good chance our mom will lose her mind when she finds out about you, so I really don't think she'll let you anywhere near her." He brightened slightly. "But don't lose hope — I'll vouch for you. Maybe that'll help convince her to let you see Hannah within the next couple of months."
What?
Before I could respond to that ridiculous statement, the door swung open. A gray-haired woman in an orange outfit stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind her. She immediately searched for Jason, but her eyes landed on me first and lingered. People always needed a second to adjust when they saw me, and she was no exception. Not for the first time, I hoped that my face would win her over without requiring much effort on my part because I wasn't sure I had the energy to be charming right now.
After a tense beat, she spoke. "Who are you?"
Summoning a strained smile, I introduced myself. "Good day, ma'am. I'm Tristan Beckett. I'm... uh..." I had to be careful — I didn't want to cause any trouble for Hannah. "I'm a friend of your daughter's. I came here because I heard she was hurt and I just wanted to make sure she was okay."
Her eyes immediately narrowed in suspicion. "Which friend are you? I've never heard her mention you before."
"I'm sure she just hasn't had the chance yet," I said, treading cautiously. "Would it be possible for me to speak with her? I'm sure she can explain."
"Why do you need to see her now? Can't it wait?"
If I waited, I could lose her. I also needed answers, I needed to know if she was safe and if it would stay that way.
"I won't take long — I just want to make sure she's okay." I pleaded with her, keeping my gaze steady and open.
Jace stepped forward, offering his support. "Don't worry, mom. I know him — you can trust him. Maybe ask Hannah if she's up to seeing him?"
I suppressed my wince at his suggestion, choosing to refrain from disclosing the likelihood of Hannah telling me to get fucked rather than invite me in. Still, I appreciated the gesture.
But his mother wasn't having it. She only leveled him with a scathing look, clearly not happy about his interference. He shrunk under it, and she held him in her sights for several seconds before turning back to me.
"My daughter is currently resting before I take her home. I suggest you leave her a message or speak to her when she's better," she stated firmly, her tone leaving no room for debate.
She wasn't answering her phone though. I'd already tried messaging and phoning her, but nothing went through.
"But—"
"Listen, young man," she interrupted sharply. "I'm not allowing some stranger near my daughter, not after what she's been through, and especially because I don't know you. She hasn't mentioned you, and my son is too trusting for his own good, so I will not be listening to either of them. Now, I suggest you leave and wait for her to contact you. And if you continue to push, I will call security."
Every cell in my body roared with the need to argue back, but I knew it would only make things worse. Arguing with her mother in a hospital corridor wouldn't get me any closer to Hannah. I would find another way.
While my mind raced with a new plan, I pushed down my frustration, and offered her a nod and forced smile. "I understand. I won't bother you anymore. I look forward to meeting you under better circumstances. Have a nice day, ma'am."
Without waiting for a response — especially because it looked like I wouldn't be getting one, I walked away, feeling Jace's sympathetic gaze on me. He looked guilty, but I couldn't blame him — I wasn't about to expect my girlfriend's little brother to help me by fighting with his own mother. Well... he wasn't going to help me in the way he thought.
"Sorry... that's our mom for you," he muttered as I approached him again.
"Don't sweat it," I reassured him.
I grasped his shoulder firmly and pulled him into an unexpected hug. He let out a surprised grunt, caught off guard by the sudden embrace as he stumbled against me. With a steadying hand on his back, I maintained the embrace and murmured, "What's your address?"
His response was initially a confused "What?" as he struggled to process the situation.
"I need to know where Hannah's going to be. What's your address?" I repeated, my tone urgent but low.
It didn't take long for him to catch on. Realization dawned, and he whispered the address quickly, careful not to let his mother overhear. I nodded, committing it to memory, then released him with a grin.
With a light chuckle, I said, "Fun touching tips and all, but I'm pretty sure I can feel your mother's glare drilling a hole into my back. I should get going before she calls security on me for standing here and looking too pretty."
Jason laughed, nodding. "Yeah, she probably will."
As I started to leave, I paused and glanced back. "Oh, and don't tell Hannah I'm coming." I searched for an excuse. "I want it to be a surprise."
It was more that I didn't want her to lock her window the second she found out. With any luck, the meds would knock her out by the time she got home, and I'd find her awake when the rest of the house was asleep. And hopefully, her mom was a heavy sleeper.