Hate to Love You - Chapter 63: Chapter 63

Hannah
I could only try and slow my swing, but having the reflexes of a quarterback saved him. His hand shot out, grasping the thicker part of the bat, and probably saving any future children he wanted.
"You're very trigger-happy, aren't you?" He laughed breathlessly, and I think I heard a hint of fear in his voice. "I'm attacked every time I surprise you."
I gaped at him, eyes wide as my heart continued to thump against my ribs. What was he thinking coming here at this time of night without telling me? And through my fucking window!
Still gripping the bat, he climbed the rest of the way in, the curtain falling closed behind him with a gentle ripple from the breeze. Standing tall, he looked down at me, his gaze sweeping over every inch of my body before settling on my neck with a visible tightening of his jaw. The sight of him brought so many emotions I'd been ignoring in the chaos of everything that had happened. Tears welled up in my eyes as I released my grip on the bat, rushing forward to collide against his chest. My cheek pressed against his heart as my arms wound around his waist, not caring about the ache in my neck.
I felt the hitch in his breath betraying his surprise before he gently propped the bat against the shelf next to my window. And then he wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me completely as he squeezed me to him. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply — needing him like I needed my next breath.
In his arms, the tears flowed freely, soaking the front of his shirt as he simply held me in comfortable silence, rubbing my back and softly combing the tangles from my hair. I cried for everything that had happened, but mainly because I had missed him.
My hands fisted the material at his lower back as I pressed even closer, greedy for that abundant warmth he always radiated. It seeped into my bones, driving away the ache and cold, along with the tension coiled tightly down my back. In his arms, I melted, feeling my strength return.
"Babe, let me see you."
I softly shook my head against him, tightening my grip on his shirt. I wasn't ready to let go yet.
"Hannah, we need to talk. Well, I need to talk — I know you can't."
My brows furrowed at that. How could he know? In fact, how did he know where to find me? It clicked when I remembered Jace's odd behavior with my window latch. They must have spoken. Why hadn't Jace told me?
But now I wanted to know what Tristan had to say after going through all this effort. Reluctantly, I loosened my grip on his shirt and leaned back, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. The movement sent a jolt of pain through me, and Tristan must have noticed because he grabbed my wrist, gently holding it away from my face. His finger pressed under my chin, lifting my face to see my neck. It was bandaged, but there was a visible bruise peeking out from the top. It was dark and angry-looking — likely looking worse than it felt.
"I know you can't speak, but did she hurt you because of me?"
The pain in his eyes made me soften, and I gave him a slight shake of my head. I understood why he feared that, and it broke my heart. Was he ever scared that woman would come back?
He seemed only slightly relieved. His thumb stroked my jaw. "Are you in a lot of pain?"
I thought about lying and saying no — but I was too tired to lie. I gave him a small nod. Upon seeing that, he bent down to pick me up with one arm under my knees and the other around my waist. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck and because he held me high in his grip, it didn't hurt to cling to him. He moved toward my bed, using the moonlight to find it.
With his gorgeous face right in front of me, I couldn't help but release one arm so that I could run my fingers down his cheeks and along his jaw, inching to his lips. He turned his head to look at me briefly and our eyes locked. It was intense and all those feelings of missing and loving him came bubbling to the surface.
I had no control over my actions as I leaned forward to kiss him. It was a soft, close-mouthed kiss that stopped him in his tracks, but I knew it told him what I couldn't say aloud.
We stayed like that for several intimate seconds before our lips parted and our foreheads touched. I cupped his cheek, stroking his skin with my thumb.
"I missed you too. I know it hasn't been long since we last saw each other, but I missed this. I missed us." He rubbed my nose with his.
I wished I could tell him that I felt the same way. He was the first person I wanted to run to when this all happened.
He lowered me onto my back on the edge of the twin bed, glancing at my lamp next to the bed. "Can I switch this on? Will it wake your mom?"
Instead of answering, I reached for the switch and turned it on. Her room was downstairs because she didn't like the stairs at night. I'd hear her coming up before she caught us. When the soft light filled the room, he carefully lay down on his side next to me. He propped himself up on his elbow, resting his head on his hand, gazing down at me. His other hand slid up my thigh to rest on my stomach under my shirt. I was hyper-aware of the warmth of his hand, and how I wanted that warmth all over me.
His eyes found my neck again and he asked, "Who did this to you?"
I didn't think he really expected an answer, but I reached for the hand resting on my stomach and lifted his palm so we could both see it. Using my finger, I spelled out Dylan's name, and Tristan's eyes followed every movement.
"Is he the reason you won't press charges against the girl?"
I was surprised he knew that, but I nodded.
"Did he do the same thing to her that he did to you?"
I nodded again, sobering as I wondered if maybe she got the short end of the stick. It almost seemed like he got worse after I left. As I went to lower my hand, Tristan caught it, intertwining our fingers and bringing our hands to his lips. His kiss was gentle, but I could feel the tension in his touch, the anger simmering just beneath his skin.
Surprisingly, he changed the subject, his voice lighter now. "I told my parents about you. They can't wait to meet you."
I tensed, my breath seizing in my chest. I had to be hearing things, because no way did he say what I think he just did. This was a step I wasn't expecting to reach any time soon. Or ever, if I were being completely honest.
He smirked at my expression. "I spent the whole lunch telling them about you. My mom was ready to come find you herself when I was done."
That was really sweet and all, but the real question was — what did he tell her? Did he say anything bad? I needed every detail and not being able to ask them was driving me crazy. He was a man — men said things without thinking. What if he'd dropped a particularly bad titbit about me because he found it endearing? I groaned internally. This was one of my worst nightmares — having a mother-in-law who hated me. I could only hope he'd given them a good enough impression. It would suck if his mom wanted to find me so that she could warn me off her son.
"I also told them I was serious about you." His voice broke through my spiraling thoughts, and all reasoning stopped.
Did that mean what I think it did?
My eyes widened with so many questions, and he laughed, leaning down to kiss the tip of my nose. And then he pressed my hand against his chest and when I focused, I could feel the solid but rapid thumps of his beating heart.
"Do you feel that?" he murmured, "That's what you do to me. I'm serious about you, Hannah. I know I've been so hot and cold with you, and I've hurt you because of it. And I'm also not the greatest at communication, but I promise you I'm working on it. If the alternative is losing you, then I refuse to keep giving you the worst of me." His green eyes held a promise and a determination I knew he always followed through on.
I wanted to shake my head. He hadn't given me the worst of him. The man I'd come to know was pure goodness. At his core, he was kind and caring, a true leader with all the qualities I admired. He was a good friend and a good son. People respected and admired him for reasons I now understood. I was one of them now — one of his obsessed groupies, I just hid it better.
I really wanted to tell him all of this. I was even tempted to get up and look for a sketchbook and pen, but I was too warm and comfortable in his arms. I also realized I should probably just listen for once.
"I have a lot to make up for, but I'm prepared to put in the work. I was also prepared to get on my knees to beg you for forgiveness. My other method of gaining your forgiveness also involved me being on my knees, by the way."
It was ridiculous how, even in this much pain, I still felt that bolt of arousal. I liked the idea of him on his knees. I liked the idea of him begging even more, especially when I knew he could get creative with it.
Shaking my head with a small smirk, I reminded myself that this was my mother's house, and that Jace was down the hallway. I wasn't about to scar my brother for life.
He grinned, kissing the back of my hand again. "And just to get this out in the open, we're together, okay? I'm your boyfriend. You can tell people that — no, you have to tell people that. If a guy ever talks to you, tell him you have a boyfriend — that I'm your boyfriend." He nodded like he wasn't spewing absolute nonsense.
I rolled my eyes at him, but my lips were fighting a smile because he was so fucking cute. When did we ever decide on this? We still had some discussing to do.
"I've been doing everything a boyfriend does, right? We don't act like simple friends with benefits. I'm your boyfriend. I have been since the moment I agreed to be exclusive with you."
I bit my lower lip to stop it from trembling — because the amount of internal happy freaking out I was doing was nearly bursting. But I wasn't one to lose my head like that.
"We're doing this romantic relationship thing, even if it's long distance. I've been looking at weekend flights and some during the holidays. If we wait a couple of months, I should have some breaks between the off-season. We have some training camps and shit to do, but I do get breaks."
I smiled as he rambled, continuing to plan our future. I wouldn't lie, I was shocked to hear all this from him, and I was also terrified about starting a relationship with him. I was starkly aware of how many other women wanted him and how they weren't shy about it. I trusted him, but it still soured my mood when I thought about it all happening while I was somewhere else.
I guess the question is: do I love him enough to try?
"Wherever you stay — you can't get a twin bed, okay? This shit will break as soon as I have you in the first position."
Yeah. Yeah, I loved him enough to try. I loved him enough to take this terrifying leap into an uncertain future because I wanted him. I loved him.
He stopped talking when I lifted my free hand to brush some hair out of his face, admiring how his 'flaws', like the freckles or the scar on his forehead, only made him even more devastatingly beautiful.
Maybe one baby wouldn't hurt...
"I love you."
At first, I thought I was the one who accidentally said it out loud, but it registered in his voice a split second later. My heart skipped a beat. It actually skipped a beat. Nothing could have prepared me for those three little words, and yet they somehow paled in comparison to the way he looked at me.
His pure emerald gaze held mine, and in them I saw something that choked me with its raw intensity. I'd never had a man look at me like this, and I had to admit it felt like the best gift I'd ever received.
His head slowly descended and his lips brushed mine in a soft, loving kiss. My eyes slid shut. I didn't think I could be so happy at a time like this, but hearing and seeing his love filled me with a sense of relief and bliss I couldn't even begin to describe.
Tristan Beckett loved me.
And I loved him.
My hand rested on his cheek and I parted my lips, pressing closer and deepening the kiss. We still had so much to talk about, but for now, this was all I needed.
He never let things get too far, his hands stroking my body but never touching me where I wanted. His kisses were sometimes sweet, interspersed with words of love and humor. It hurt to giggle when he asked me to tattoo his name above my ass. And when he said my cold fingertips were tickling him.
I went to sleep with a smile on my swollen lips, feeling more safe and secure than I ever had.