Chapter 15

Hannah

Since Comfort Bay doesn't have a dedicated karaoke bar—a travesty I plan on taking up at the next town meeting now that I'll have the time to attend—Bear very kindly offered up his diner for our karaoke night.

And I'm sure he did that out of the goodness of his heart, and it has nothing to do with me mentioning that Summer would be up from LA for the evening.

I've hired a karaoke machine, and since the diner has a liquor license, anyone who wants to drink can, which should help some of the more reserved amongst us loosen up a bit.

Including one of the guys currently getting us drinks from the counter.

Amiel: "She's staring at him."

Beth: "Babe, when has she stopped staring at him?"

Summer: "Who are you talking about? Evie staring at Fraser, or Hannah staring at Culver?"

Beth: "Both. They're both as bad as each other."

I turn to Amiel, Beth, and Summer. "Sorry, what? I must have zoned out there."

Beth grins wryly. "You don't say."

Summer glances over to the counter where Bear is serving Fraser, Culver, and Milo, a Swift teammate and unexpected last-minute addition—which is fine with me because there's no such thing as too many people at karaoke.

"Do you think they're talking about us?" she asks.

"They are taking an inordinately long time to get drinks," Amiel says.

We all look over, and right on cue, they all turn away.

"Yeah," I cackle. "They're talking about us."

"Hmm. Let's break this down, shall we?" Evie taps her chin a few times. "Fraser is probably telling the guys about how the stadium is coming along. Culver's probably filling them in on Hannah's hot girl summer. Bear being Bear, he's most likely gushing over Summer…"

Summer: "Excuse me?"

Beth: "Oh, come on."

Summer: "Oh, come on, what?"

Beth: "Bear has a Grand Canyon-sized crush on you."

Summer: "He does not. What makes you say that?"

Beth: "How long have you got?"

Summer: "But why would a guy like Bear…I mean, he's so…and I'm not…"

Me: "Please tell me you're more coherent in the courtroom."

Summer: "Shut up. All of you. Continue with your list, Evie. Please."

Beth: "Ah, the wonderful art of deflection. It really is an underrated skill."

Me: "And yet one that all the Fast-Talking Five seem well versed in."

We laugh, and Evie concludes by saying, "Which leaves Milo and…Beth."

Beth scoffs. "I don't think so."

"Why not?" I ask.

"He's probably used to women falling at his feet just because he's a pro hockey player, and I refuse to be one of them. Who cares if he has ridiculously broad shoulders? Or those piercing green eyes. Or a stubbled jaw." She clears her throat. "Plus, he has a man bun, and I hate man buns. And men. And love in general."

"And yet she reads every hockey romance novel she can get her hands on," Amiel observes.

"What's he doing here anyway?" Summer asks.

"Not sure. Culver asked if he could come along this afternoon. He said he's going through some stuff."

Beth folds her arms, staring intently across the diner at the broad-shouldered, green-eyed, stubble-jawed, man-bunned guy she seems intent on not falling for.

But eventually, she caves. "What sort of stuff?"

"Culver didn't say. But I think Milo is staying in Comfort Bay for a few days."

"Why?"

I shrug. "Something about him wanting to look around."

"Look around at what?"

"That's a great question, Beth. And look, they're coming over. Why don't you ask him?"

She shakes her head. "Nope. I am not interested."

The guys arrive and hand us our drinks. I went with iced tea since I'm such a lightweight—and I want to remember every second of Culver getting up on that stage. I will get drunk at some stage before the summer is over, but tonight is not that night.

"All right." I set my drink down on the table. "Who's ready to have some fun?"

Beth grumbles something about needing a few more rosés while Culver and Milo slink into the background.

Or try to.

It's a bit hard for them to be inconspicuous when they're both over six feet tall and equally broad-shouldered.

"We'll go," Evie volunteers, grabbing Fraser's hand, not giving him any choice in the matter. Smart move.

They sing a super fun rendition of "Summer Nights" from Grease.

Then Evie and I sing two Bruno Mars songs back-to-back—those songs always remind me of our senior year in high school.

Next, we get the girls to join us for a group song—"Wannabe" by the Spice Girls, which gets a little messy since we all sing over each other, and what are the lyrics anyway?

Beth and Amiel cover Elvis Presley's "Can't Help Falling in Love." They jokingly look at each other as they sing the lyrics, although…I catch Beth's gaze drifting to Milo on at least three separate occasions.

Man bun or not, my instincts tell me there could be something there.

Bear stubbornly refuses our attempts for him to join Summer for a duet, and Beth shoots daggers Evie's way when she suggests she team up with Milo for a song. Since I don't know the guy that well, I don't push.

But there is a guy I know very well who I'm not afraid to try my luck with.

"Come on," I say, stretching out my arm, taking a leaf out of Evie's don't ask, just grab book.

"Nuh-uh," Culver says, cowering behind Fraser.

"Leave me out of this." Fraser deftly steps away and loops his arms over Evie's shoulders.

They're looking at us.

The whole group is looking at us.

"You're here with your friends," I say. "This is a safe space."

"There's no such thing when it comes to karaoke."

"It'll be fun."

"You haven't heard me sing."

"Exactly. I've known you all my life, and I have no idea what sort of singing voice you have."

"I have a terrible singing voice. There. Now you know."

I huff out a breath. "You're being stubborn."

"Sorry, not sorry," he says, sticking to his guns, and by guns I mean his biceps, which he's now folded across his chest, but I cannot allow myself to get distracted by his muscles.

I have to get him to sing tonight.

I didn't want it to come to this, but desperate times call for desperate measures. "It's on my hot girl summer list," I say, because I am not above using guilt to get him on the mic.

"That's right. It's on your list. Not mine."

I lift my chin. "Is that your way of telling me you'd like to start a hot boy summer list?"

Culver's eyebrow arches. "That doesn't sound right."

I laugh. "It really doesn't. Come on."

"No way."

"Please."

He winces.

"Pretty please."

He growls.

"Pretty please with a cherry on top."

He exhales. "Ugh, fine."

I can't help but whoop loudly, thrilled that this moment has finally arrived. I latch onto his arm so he can't run away at the last minute and lead him to the makeshift stage.

"You can choose the song," I say, hoping it lessens his pain a little.

"That doesn't really help, but okay," he says, browsing through the songs on the machine. "I've found one," he says, looking over his shoulder.

"I'm ready, baby," I say, waving the microphone in front of me. "Show me what you got."

He holds my gaze for a moment, pinning me with one of those classic Culver dimpled smiles.

"Here we go." He hits the button on the machine and strides over to me, picking up the second mic on the way as the playful guitar strums and light electronic beats of "22" fill the air.

"Perfect choice," I say, smiling when he joins me on the stage.

"You haven't heard me sing yet."

Knowing that he's a little—okay, a lot—self-conscious, I sing the whole song so he never has to sing by himself.

He's a little wary at first, but by the time we get to the second "we're happy, free, confused, and lonely" line, he's fully feeling it.

So are our friends, and everyone starts singing along with us—yes, even Milo. Bear's the sole holdout, but even he bobs his head and mouths the words—and yeah, this song really is the perfect choice.

I belt out the lyrics, hearing them—feeling them—in a new way. I may be slightly older than twenty-two, but there's something about them that hits me hard and deep tonight.

Life can be miserable and magical at the same time, like loving Comfort Bay, but at the same time itching to see more of the world.

And it is good to not have to think about deadlines, like the kids' college applications.

But it's the line in the chorus that really gets to me, the one about everything being all right as long as he's next to me.

Culver's singing and dancing a little, and not that he'd ever admit it, but it looks like he's having fun.

And so am I.

Dancing and singing next to him.

Oh, god. I don't want this summer to end.

I don't want him to go.

I don't want things to go back to how they were before.

Just friends.

The song ends, and we take our bows, receiving a standing ovation from our friends.

The night continues with less singing and more talking and laughing and drinking. Everyone is having a great time.

And I am, too.

I'm determined not to think about the future but to be present in the moment.

This is an evening I want to look back on with fondness, not sadness.

At the end of the night—a respectable eleven p.m. because none of us are twenty-two anymore—we're outside saying goodbye when Fraser makes an announcement. "So, heads up, everyone, I'm throwing a party at the end of the month."

"Ooh, what sort of party?" Amiel asks.

Fraser grins mysteriously. "You'll have to wait and see. Invitations will be going out soon."

I look to Evie for more information, but she shrugs as if she doesn't know what's going on either.

"Any clues?" Beth asks.

"No," Fraser says, then thinks about it. "Okay. One clue. It's going to be a costume party."

Why on earth is Fraser throwing a costume party? That's so unlike him. Unless…unless he's planning another grand gesture? But what could he do to top the one-two combo of buying Evie a thousand yellow roses and a hockey stadium along with two junior teams?

We say goodbye, and on the short walk home, Culver and I speculate.

Well, I speculate. Culver pretends he has a sore throat from all the singing he did.

When I run out of guesses, he asks, "Is that what you want? Some big romantic gesture to sweep you off your feet?"

We've reached the front porch, but because it's so nice out, I move toward the rocking chairs and sit down.

"No," I say, answering his question.

He takes a seat in the chair next to mine. "Why not?"

"Because I like having my feet rubbed too much to be swept off them." He smiles and a surge of heat washes over me. "But seriously, I guess I'm not a grand gesture girl. I prefer little things. Like you singing with me tonight. That meant a lot."

He scoffs. "That doesn't count."

"It does. So does sharing a meal, or watching a show together, or having you in the pool with me when I tackle a big fear. On their own, they're all little things, but life is made up of little things, and it's nice to have someone you love to share them with."

"Yeah. It is." His gaze drops and starts fidgeting with his fingers. I stay silent, sensing something is on his mind. A few moments pass, then he rolls his shoulders and fixes me with a serious expression. "There's something I have to tell you."

"You've found your new passion and want to become a pop star once you're done with hockey?"

A small smile.

"No. This is serious."

I clear my throat. "Okay."

"I think…" He pauses, rotates his shoulders, and starts again. "I think I'm falling in love with you, Hannah."

My breath catches. "Oh."

I don't know what to say.

Well, actually, I do. I know exactly what to say.

But can I do it?

Can I actually tell him I love him, too?

Before I start mentally developing a pros and cons list, I trust my instincts and tell him my truth. "I love you, too."

His eyes flicker for a second, because yeah, I said it.

Definitively.

I didn't attach an I think to it because I know.

I've known for a long time.

Neither one of us knows what to say next.

"Was it the karaoke?" I eventually ask.

"Huh?"

"That finally got you thinking you're in love with me?"

"No." He shakes his head. "It was the slow cooker fiasco. I thought to myself, if I don't nab this girl, some other lucky guy will, and I can't have that."

I laugh.

After a moment, he does, too.

"It hasn't been any one thing," he says. "It's been all of it. All the little things, like you mentioned. But I'm…" He drops his voice so low I barely hear him say, "scared."

"I'm scared, too. That's why I didn't tell you. But remember what you said to Maddie in the hospital?"

He looks up and smiles at the memory of that beautiful girl. "Something about not letting being scared be the reason you quit?"

"That's right."

"We have something special, Hannah. And I don't want to quit, but…" He looks down again and bites into his lip. "But you deserve to be with a great guy. I want that for you."

"I want that for me, too."

"I just don't know if I'm?—"

"Don't say it. You are." I push off the rocking chair and crouch down in front of him. "You are," I repeat, taking his big hands in mine.

He lifts his chin up, stares at me with those adorable puppy dog eyes. "My life is a mess."

"I'm completely lost."

"My body is falling apart."

"I'm a terrible cook."

"I don't know what my next steps are going to be."

"I don't know either."

He chuckles.

I smile.

"We have each other, Culver. And that's all that matters."

He doesn't look away, staring at me more intensely than he ever has before. "You're right. That is what matters."

"Good." I bounce on my feet. "Wanna go inside and make out like teenagers?"

We're on the couch in less than ten seconds.