Stealing Home

Chapter 8 : Expectations

Hannah stood in the kitchen, her hands wrapped loosely around a mug of coffee that had already gone cold. Everything looked normal. Put back together. Like the night before hadn’t happened at all.

Her eyes drifted slowly around the kitchen.

The marble countertops.

The light fixtures hanging above the island.

The cabinet color she spent weeks choosing.

Every detail had once felt important.

Carefully picked out like it could somehow make this house feel different.

Like it could make her happy inside of it.

It never did.

She lifted the mug slightly, bringing it toward her lips before stopping halfway.

Michael’s footsteps echoed from somewhere deeper in the house, measured and unhurried as they moved closer. Hannah didn’t turn when he entered the kitchen.

“You’re up,” he said.

Not a question.

“Yeah.”

He moved past her, opening a cabinet and pulling down a glass. His movements were precise. Familiar. Controlled. He filled the glass with water, drank half of it, then finally looked at her.

“You seem better this morning.”

Hannah’s fingers tightened slightly against the counter.

“I am.”

He studied her for a moment before nodding once.

“Good.”

Silence settled briefly between them before he spoke again.

“I have a busy week.”

Hannah stayed quiet, letting him continue.

“Meetings most of the week,” he said. “Travel mid-week. Late nights.”

She nodded lightly.

“Okay.”

“There’s a company dinner Thursday.”

That made her look at him.

“Your dad will be there.”

The words landed flatly, but Hannah still felt them settle heavily in her chest.

Her stomach tightened.

“Okay,” she repeated.

“You’ll come with me.”

It wasn’t phrased like a request.

“Of course.”

Michael leaned lightly against the counter, his attention settling more fully on her now.

“I want you more attentive this time.”

Her jaw tightened slightly.

“I was attentive.”

“You were distracted.”

Hannah looked away briefly before forcing herself to meet his eyes again.

“I won’t be.”

He watched her carefully for another second before nodding once.

“Good.”

Another pause followed.

Then—

“And Hannah.”

She waited.

“Put the plane behind you.”

Her breath caught slightly before evening back out.

“You’re home now,” he continued. “There’s no reason to keep holding onto it.”

“I know.”

“Then act like it.”

Hannah nodded once.

“I will.”

Michael held her gaze a moment longer before pushing himself off the counter and walking past her. Close enough that his shoulder brushed lightly against hers.

Hannah stayed where she was for another minute, her hands resting around the mug while his words lingered in the back of her mind.

Eventually she walked to the sink and poured the cold coffee out before rinsing the mug and placing it carefully beside the faucet.

Everything back where it belonged.

Except her.

Her phone buzzed suddenly against the counter.

The sound cut through the quiet.

Hannah looked down, surprised to see her boss’s name across the screen.

She opened the message.

Hey, I saw the news about the flight. Are you okay?

Her chest tightened slightly with guilt.

Hannah hadn’t even thought to text her boss when it happened.

She typed back slowly.

Thank you. I think I’m fine, but I appreciate you checking in on me.

The response came almost immediately.

I’m glad you’re safe. Seriously, take a few days if you need it. Don’t worry about work right now.

Hannah read the message twice.

Another message appeared.

Do it. We’ll be fine here. Just take care of yourself.

Hannah stared at the screen a second longer after reading it.

How do I explain that I need back on another assignment? That it’s the break I need from my reality without more questions being raised?

Her best friend Emily was the only person who knew the truth, and even that had been hard enough to deal with.

Emily had a good heart.

She cared.

But she came from the kind of family Hannah used to think only existed in movies. Loving parents. Honest conversations. A home that actually felt safe.

Emily didn’t fully understand the pressure Hannah lived under.

Didn’t fully understand what it meant to leave.

Or how complicated it became when your entire life had been built for other people.

She typed back slowly.

I appreciate the offer. I promise to take some time if I need it.

She locked the phone and set it back down on the counter.

The sound of another door shutting somewhere in the house pulled her attention away a moment later.

Michael reappeared in the doorway.

His gaze moved over her quickly.

Assessing.

“Don’t forget Thursday,” he said.

“I won’t.”

“And be ready earlier this time.”

Hannah nodded.

“Okay.”

He held her gaze for another second before turning and walking away again.

Conversation over.

Hannah stayed standing in the kitchen after he left, her thoughts drifting despite herself.

Thursday.

The company dinner.

Her father.

The expectations waiting for her there.

Everything polished.

Everything rehearsed.

Everything perfect from the outside.

Her chest tightened again at the thought of seeing him. Her father always had a way of making her feel younger than she was. Smaller somehow. Like every conversation came with an expectation attached to it.

A few minutes later, she stepped outside.

The pool stretched across the backyard, the water smooth and untouched beneath the sunlight.

Hannah slipped her sandals off near the edge before reaching for the ties of the swimsuit cover she had thrown on earlier. She pulled it off slowly, revealing the black swimsuit underneath.

Then she sat down carefully at the edge of the pool, dipping her feet into the water first.

Warm.

Grounding.

For the first time all morning, her shoulders loosened slightly.

She stared out across the water for a second longer before slipping into the pool completely.

Her thoughts were muted beneath the water.

Hannah wondered how long she could stay under water to feel this peace.

It wasn’t long before she had to swim back up, back to reality.