Something Reckless(56)

“Then aren’t you supposed to be fucking like bunnies?”

“Already did.”

“Snuggling?”

She wraps her arm around my shoulders and leans her head against mine. It’s then that I realize I’m crying. “I’m a hot mess,” I whisper.

“I noticed.”

“I don’t think Sam wants me.” Then I start sobbing again—chest-shaking, heart-aching, snotty sobbing. It’s as if my body has been poisoned by hope I knew better than to have and it has to wring it out of me.

Hanna doesn’t ask questions or get on the phone to yell at Sam for hurting me—which is good, since Sam would have no idea what she was talking about. She knows what I need better than I do, so she sits, stroking my hair and murmuring in my ear until I get all the ugliness and self-hatred out.

When my breathing steadies and the tears are gone, she takes the bowl of cookie dough from my hands and says, “Start at the beginning.”

I nod, take a deep breath, and begin. I tell her about meeting Riverrat69 on Something Real. I tell her how I believed it was Sam and how things escalated until last night when we were supposed to meet.

“Stop right there for a minute,” Hanna says when I tell her I agreed to go to the cabin.

“I know.” I squeeze my eyes shut, too embarrassed to look her in the eye.

“Liz, what if he was some crazy guy? What if it was someone who lures women to the country to skin them alive?”

I shake my head. “I know, okay? That’s why I sent Sam a text when I got there. I don’t think I would have agreed to meet him if I hadn’t believed it was Sam. I’m not completely stupid.” Then I add in a mumble, “Only mostly stupid.”

“So it was Sam?” she asks, confused.

“Instead of messaging River, I sent Sam a text to see if he was the one inside the cabin, and then he came out. I made sure it was him before I even got out of my car.”

Hanna presses her hand to her chest and lets out a breath. “So what happened next?” she asks. When I sniffle and arch a brow, she says, “Okay, I can guess what happened next. What about after the dirty sex?”

I thought I was out of tears, but my eyes fill again. “This morning I got a message from River apologizing that he couldn’t make it last night.”

Hanna frowns. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would Sam try to mess with your mind like that?”

“It wasn’t Sam. Sam was right next to me when the message came through. Sam isn’t River. I just . . . I just wanted him to be.”

“Wait.” She rubs her temples. “You’re telling me that this anonymous stranger invited you to meet him, and the place he invited you happened to be Sam’s cabin, and Sam happened to be there? That doesn’t even make sense. What did River say?”

“I haven’t replied to his message this morning. I panicked and took the messenger app we’ve been using off my phone. I’m freaking out here.”

“That’s understandable. Holy crap. This is a mess. Are you sure you were at the right place? Maybe you transposed some numbers in your head and ended up at the Bradshaws’ cabin when you were supposed to be somewhere else?”

“I rechecked the house number on my way out. This is no coincidence, Hanna. River, whoever he is, invited me to the Bradshaws’ cabin.”

“Maybe he’s a friend of the family, or maybe he was going to meet you there and then take you to his cabin further out.”

I nod. These are all real possibilities, but they don’t address what hurts the most. “I really wanted it to be him,” I whisper.

“I thought you didn’t want to be with Sam.” She’s frowning at me, and I know she’s hurt that I haven’t been completely honest about how I feel.

“I don’t want to want to be with him,” I say, as if that explains anything. “I like him, I want him, but if I could control my feelings I would neither like him nor want him.”

“Okay.” She nods as if I’m not irrational, bless her heart. “There’s a difference.”

I sigh and shrug. “We aren’t ‘forever’ kind of material. But I’ve always liked him. A lot. Remember when I hooked up with him after Will and Cally’s wedding? I told you it wasn’t the first time.”

“Yes . . .”

“It happened the year before that too. He’d warned me it was just a fling, and I thought I was okay with that, but then I saw him with this other woman later and . . .”

“That was the day you painted your room that ugly beige,” she says. Leave it to Hanna to know that. No one knows me better.