Love, Utley (Love Letters #1)

“I’m just… I don’t know why that scared me so much.” Hannah lifts the hand I’m not holding, and we watch it tremble before she lifts her eyes back to meet mine. “I’ve never been in a car accident before.”

I love that she’s no longer avoiding my gaze.

I hate that it’s because she’s frightened.

“Let’s make that your last one, yeah?” I give her fingers a squeeze.

She nods, and a smile starts to form, then it breaks, and she sucks in another breath.

“Shh.” I lift my hand back to her neck.

“Sorry.” Hannah dashes the back of her hand over her cheeks.

“It’s okay to be scared, but you’re okay.”

She sniffs. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” Giving in to the urge, I lightly move my thumb up and down the column of her throat. “Do you want a hug?”

She brushes away another tear as she glances to the side. “Probably shouldn’t.”

The three guys from our office are only a few yards away— at the front of the car. And two cop cars are pulling to a stop in the intersection.

“I’m just comforting an employee.” I try to make it sound reasonable. “That’s okay, right?”

Hannah sniffs again, but a little of the light returns to her eyes. “You gonna hug Brandon too?”

I huff out a laugh. “If he asked me to.” Then I tip my head to the side. “Might squeeze him a little tighter than necessary though.”

There’s one more sniffle, then Hannah drops my hand and steps into me.

Just steps into me.

I bring my arms around her, wrapping around her shoulders and upper back, pulling her closer. Holding her against me.

Hannah rests her cheek against my chest and presses her hands into my back, her palms on either side of my spine.

I want to kiss the top of her head. I want to press my nose into her hair and inhale her scent.

But I know we’re being watched, and Hannah was probably right that hugging her might be inappropriate. But she’s my employee, and she was just involved in something traumatizing. If a hug makes her feel better, then I’m going to fucking hug her.

Her back expands under my arms as she takes a deep breath, then exhales it. “Thanks, Maddox.”

Our bodies are already flush, but I still squeeze her tighter.

Because for the first time in fifteen years, Hannah Utley spoke my name.

EIGHTEEN

HANNAH

Maddox surrounds me.

His scent. His warmth. His strength.

I press my hands harder into his lower back, knowing I shouldn’t.

I shouldn’t be hugging him at all.