Chapter 4 : Almost Honest
1267 Words
Hannah sat back slightly in her chair, the edge of the moment still lingering between them. The words she’d said—about not staying long enough to get used to being alone—hung in the air longer than she’d intended.
She hadn’t meant to say that much.
It had just… slipped out.
Across from her, Everett didn’t fill the silence right away.
He didn’t push.
Didn’t try to make her explain it.
He just sat there, one hand loosely wrapped around his glass, watching her in that same steady way he always seemed to.
Like he was paying attention.
Not prying.
Just… there.
Hannah exhaled quietly and looked down at her plate, picking at the edge of the crust.
She could feel it—the shift.
Subtle, but real.
Something about this felt different from the way she usually interacted with people. There was no performance here. No carefully measured responses or deflection that she could easily hide behind.
And that—
That made her uneasy.
“You don’t have to explain it,” Everett said finally.
Her head lifted.
“What?”
He shrugged slightly.
“Whatever that was,” he said. “You don’t have to explain it.”
She studied him.
Most people would have asked.
Pushed.
Pressed until she gave them something.
He didn’t.
And that—
That made her want to say something anyway.
“I’m engaged,” she said.
The words came out quieter than she expected.
But they landed.
Heavy.
Clear.
A flicker of something crossed Everett’s face.
Gone before she could read it.
He didn’t react right away.
Didn’t interrupt.
Didn’t question.
He just… waited.
Letting her decide how much more to say.
Hannah let out a slow breath, her fingers tightening slightly around her glass.
A flicker of guilt settled in her chest.
She should have told him earlier.
On the plane. Before everything.
She wasn’t even sure why she hadn’t.
It wasn’t like it changed anything.
Or at least, it shouldn’t.
Her gaze dropped briefly.
Maybe it was because it had been easier not to say it.
Easier to pretend Michael didn’t exist.
Even if it was only for a little while.
“It feels more like an arrangement,” she said. “Than anything else.”
Everett didn’t look away.
“Do you want it?” he asked.
The question was simple.
But it hit harder than anything else he’d said. No one has asked her that before, not even her own parents. It felt nice that he did.
She didn’t answer right away. Even though she knew the answer. She knew she had to.
Instead, she gave a small shrug—too casual for what the question actually meant.
“It’s what my life looks like,” she said.
Not an answer.
Not really.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
“And when you’re traveling?” he asked.
Her lips pressed together for a second.
She leaned back slightly, her gaze drifting toward the window.
“I feel… more like myself.”
She turned back to him.
“That’s why I don’t get tired of traveling alone,” she said quietly.
The words settled between them.
Honest.
Careful.
Only part of the truth.
Everett studied her for a moment.
“You said it feels like an arrangement,” he said. “What does that mean?”
Her chest tightened slightly.
“It means our parents are close,” she said. “Close enough that merging families also means merging their companies.”
She let out a quiet breath, her gaze dropping to the table.
“It makes sense on paper,” she added. “Just… not anywhere else.”
A quiet beat passed.
Everett held her gaze.
“Is that enough for you to stay?” he asked.
The question lingered between them.
Hannah didn’t answer.
She just held his gaze for a second longer—
then looked away.
The silence stretched.
Thicker this time.
More aware.
Hannah reached for her wine, taking a slow sip.
She could feel it—that edge again.
That place where the conversation could go deeper if she let it.
And for a second—
She almost did. She knew if she admitted it out loud, it would be hard for her to keep pretending when she got home.
Instead, she changed the subject.
“So,” she said lightly, “how many people do you usually save on a normal flight?”
His brow lifted slightly, but he let the shift happen.
“That was a one-time thing.”
“Shame,” she said. “You seemed pretty good at it.”
A small huff of amusement left him.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She tilted her head, studying him a little more openly now.
“What, no secret hero complex? No dramatic rescues on your days off?”
“Disappointing, I know.”
“Very,” she said, taking another sip of her wine. “I had you pegged as someone who runs toward danger.”
He leaned back slightly in his chair, one corner of his mouth lifting.
“Depends on the situation.”
Her eyes narrowed just a little.
“That sounds like another non-answer.”
“It’s still honest.”
She let out a quiet laugh.
“You’re annoyingly good at those.”
“I’ve been told that before.”
“I’m sure you have.”
A brief pause settled between them—not uncomfortable, just… charged.
“So,” she said again, forcing the lightness back into her voice, “still sticking with ‘one-time thing’?”
“For now,” he said.
She gave a small, almost teasing smile.
“Good. I don’t think I could handle a second near-death bonding experience.”
“Yeah,” he said, his tone softer now. “Let’s not test that.”
The food was gone before either of them really noticed.
The pizza box sat open between them, a few stray crumbs left behind. The wine glasses were lower now, the edge of a light buzz settling in—just enough to soften everything around them.
Hannah leaned back slightly in her chair, exhaling.
“I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” she admitted.
“Adrenaline really builds an appetite,” Everett said.
She gave a small nod, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
“Yeah… I guess it does.”
A quiet settled between them—not heavy, just slower now. The kind that came when the energy of everything finally started to fade.
Her fingers traced lightly along the rim of her glass.
“I think my body’s finally catching up to today,” she said.
Everett watched her for a second.
“You look like you’re about to fall asleep sitting there.”
She let out a soft laugh.
“I might.”
She pushed herself up slowly.
“I should probably get some sleep.”
Everett nodded, standing with her.
“Yeah,” he said. “You should.”
Neither of them moved toward the door right away.
Another pause.
She glanced up at him.
“Thanks,” she said.
“For what?”
“For… making today a little better.”
His expression softened slightly.
“Same goes for you.”
She nodded once.
Then moved toward the door, opening it.
He stepped out into the hallway, turning back toward her.
“Goodnight, Hannah.”
“Goodnight, Everett.”
She closed the door softly behind him.
Hannah crossed the room and slid into bed.
The lights clicked off.
Darkness settled in.
Sleep consumed her fast.
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