I Hate to Stand Alone

by Casey Winter

  “I can control myself,” I snap. “Don’t worry about that. I could’ve choked Will out in the park, but I didn’t. Because you’re right. I know what violence really is. I know there’s nothing pretty about it.”

  “Good,” Morgan says, dropping into the seat opposite. The leather makes a creaky frumph at the sudden pressure. “What else? Your old man okay?”

  “He’s a grumpy old bastard,” I say, laughing. “You two would get on like a house on fire.”

  I wince.

  House on fire. Why did I have to choose that phrase?

  But if Morgan notices, he doesn’t let it show.

  He takes a butterfly knife from his pocket and idly flips it around his hand, sighing. “I know patience is a virtue, especially in our line of work,” he says. “But is this coach of yours going to be much longer?”

  “Speak of the devil,” I mutter, when my cellphone buzzes and flashes with Coach’s name. I’ve added his number as Coach, not Leonard or Sheriff. I guess old habits really do die hard.

  We head down to the main desk, where Coach is waiting for us. He looks harried. Since I first arrived here, he’s let his grey-black beard grow out so that it covers the lower half of his face. He runs a hand through the salt-and-pepper as he approaches us.

  “Morgan, this is Leonard Fuller, the sheriff and my old high school wrestling coach. Coach, this is Morgan Gunnarsson, a colleague of mine at Sun-Disk Security.”

  The two men shake hands.

  “I could’ve done with you on the wrestling team,” Coach says, appraising Morgan. “What’re you, six four?”

  “Six five,” Morgan says.

  “Hot-dang.”

  “Long night, Coach?” I ask.

  He grimaces. “Trying to be in three places at once, yeah. Told the Lorham fellas I’d help out with this drug bust they’ve got going on, an all-hands-on-deck deal, but then my deputies decide to come down with some flu. Kane Griffin. He’s one hell of a deputy, but he sure does know how to complain. Let’s get a look at this vandalism, shall we?”

  The three of us walk outside. I lead the way around the back, to the scene of the crime.

  “I take it security cameras don’t reach out here,” Coach says, frowning down at the battered metal air conditioning unit.

  “No,” I say.

  “Hmm, and no witnesses?”

  “I saw the perpetrator, sir,” Morgan says. “I can give you a description. And an account of the chase.”

  Coach grins slightly. “You chased him?”

  Morgan nods. “He lost me in the forest, though. He was dressed all in black: black hoodie, black pants, black boots, and he was a smallish man. I’d say around five foot eight or so.”

  “Could be Will Hanlon,” I mutter. “He’s not big. Strong, but not big.”

  “This man didn’t seem fit,” Morgan mutters. “Not like you’ve described this Will Hanlon. If he hadn’t scurried down this incline in the dark, taking a path I couldn’t make out, I would’ve got him. He was breathing hard.”

  “Could still be Will Hanlon,” I insist.

  “Easy, Luke,” Coach mutters. “We can’t jump to conclusions. Plus Will’s about your height, anyway.”

  “Conclusions?” I snap. “Who else has the motivation to do this, Coach? They’re pissed because they tried to jump me in the park and it didn’t go their way.”

  “We have a vandalized unit and a witness account of a man dressed in black with—I’m assuming—gloves on?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And his face, you get a look at that?”

  “He had his hood pulled up and he was wearing some sort of mask, or scarf, covering everything except for his eyes. It was too dark to make out his eye color. The sun hadn’t fully set yet, but the foliage reduced visibility drastically.”

  “I’ll look into this,” Coach says. “All I’d ask of you, Luke, is that you stay away from the Hanlons. We don’t want this blowing up. Especially because we don’t even know if it was them.”

  “He’s right,” Morgan says, probably sensing how angry I am. He glances at me as we walk back toward the parking lot, dark except for the yellow glow of the streetlights. “That wouldn’t be good for anybody, Luke. If you approach them, and they start gloating, or goading you, and you lose your temper …” He shakes his head slowly. “These men might think they’re tough. They’d soon learn how wrong they are.”

  Coach looks between us, eyes narrowed. Leonard Fuller rarely misses a beat, and I think he’s realizing just how much I’ve changed since I left Little Fall to join the Navy. He’s realizing how dangerous I’ve become.

  “Sounds like keeping your distance is a good all-round solution,” he agrees. “Let me just take your official statement, Morgan, and then we can get the process started. In the meantime, I know a few good contractors who’d be willing to cut you a deal on a new unit, Luke. I can have them out first thing tomorrow. How does that sound?”

  I clench my fists, but force myself to unclench them a moment later. Hanlons.

  “Sounds just fine, Coach,” I mutter. “Thank you.”

  “Alright then,” he says, nodding.

  —

  After Morgan has given his statement and I’ve locked up Family Roller, we drive out to Main Street in search of something to eat. I’m guessing that the Fork-N-Spoon is going to be closed now, but maybe we can grab some sandwiches at The Jukebox. But, when we pull up outside the Fork, I see that the lights are still on. It’s open.

  And Hannah is inside. With a man. The man has his hand on her arm, talking animatedly.

  I’m stunned by the violent reaction this provokes in me. I grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles press through my skin like they’re trying to burst open. I want to smash the windscreen. I want to roar.

  Don’t you touch her.

  Even if I shouldn’t care, that’s the thought that rises like a crackling bonfire in my mind.

  Don’t you dare touch her.

  Morgan glances at me, at the diner, and then back at me. “That your girl?” he mutters.

  “My girl?” I growl, spinning on him. My anger crystallizes into a fine point. “Why would you say that? That’s Hannah Coleman-Ortiz, Morgan, Noah’s ex-girlfriend. My dead little brother’s ex-girlfriend. And, anyway, she’s clearly with that corpse-looking bastard. The two of them look pretty goddamn friendly. No, she’s not my girl.”

  He nods, emotionless. “Okay, Luke. But you should take another look. Those two aren’t together.”

  “What do you mean?” I sigh.

  Morgan never responds to anger, which just makes me feel all the more foolish. “Look,” he says, gesturing with his large plate hand.

  I turn back to the diner. After a moment, I see that Morgan is right. Hannah pulls her hand away, gesticulating wildly. It’s clear she’s not reciprocating the attention. I watch, enraged, as she stands up and gestures at him to leave. But he just leans back, grinning like an asshole up at her. He reeks of Nice-Guy bravado, of pathetic, cowardly confidence.

  “If you’re going to go in there and give that man a piece of your mind,” Morgan says, “I’m coming with you.” He laughs darkly. “To make sure you don’t kill the poor bastard.”

  “Look at him,” I snarl, squeezing the wheel so hard my palm hurts. My heart is thundering. “She’s clearly not interested.”

  “No,” Morgan agrees. “She’s not.”

  Finally, the man takes the hint. He bolts to his feet and makes for the door, shouting something over his shoulder. I can’t hear the words, but it looks petulant.

  “I’ve seen that look before,” Morgan mutters. “Are we going, Luke?

  I watch as the man shuffles across the parking lot, telling myself to leave it, to let him just walk into the night. But then I remember how he grabbed Hannah’s arm, clearly against her will, and fresh flames wash through me. I reach for the door handle.

  I pace across the parking lot, calling out, “Hey, wait a goddamn second.”

>   The man turns swiftly. At first, he looks like he’s ready to fight. But then he sees me and Morgan towering beside me, and quickly decides that it’d be a bad idea. His fists unclench and he lets out a whimpering noise. “Y-yes?” he says.

  “What was that about in there?” I bark. “Why were you bothering her?”

  “Who … Hannah?”

  “Yeah, Hannah,” I snap.

  “I was just—just being friendly,” he whines. “You’re Luke, right? Luke Nelson? I’m Graham Fitzgerald. Me and Hannah are old friends. We go way back. I think there’s been some sort of misunderstanding.”

  I snort. “I saw you grabbing her. Saw her telling you to stop. Saw her telling you to leave. Didn’t seem very friendly to me.”

  “Nor me,” Morgan rumbles beside me.

  Graham flinches, his gaze flitting between us. “Listen, gents. You should know something about me before you start throwing accusations around. I’m a nurse … and a feminist. I have the utmost respect for women.”

  “What are you talking about?” I take a step forward. “I don’t give a damn about your profession or your politics, Graham. I just care that you were laying your hands on a lady who clearly didn’t want it.” I gesture at his left hand, at his wedding ring. “And you’re married, too. What sort of married man does a thing like that?”

  “Now hang on a second,” he cries. The coke—because he’s clearly on coke—is making him lively. “You’re just making things up now. You don’t know what me and Hannah have got between us. And, to be quite honest with you, Nelson, I find it slightly hypocritical than you’re here lecturing me on how to treat Hannah.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I say coldly.

  “Your brother’s the one who broke her heart,” he snaps. “You should stay away from her before you hurt her worse than Noah did.”

  “Don’t say my brother’s name,” I growl. “I mean it, Graham. You don’t say his goddamn name. Not like that. Not like he’s dirt.”

  “Noah?” he goads. “Noah-Noah-Noah. I’m pretty sure it’s a free country? I’m pretty sure I can say what I want?”

  Morgan glances at me, frowning. He steps forward slightly, ready to leap between us if I go for Graham. I clench my fists tightly. It would be the easiest thing in the world to grab his shoulders and trip him, send him toppling to the concrete, and then pounce on him and turn feral. Even if it’d be wrong.

  “Does this seem like a good idea to you? Are you really sure you want to insult this man’s family?” Morgan asks Graham, deathly quiet. “I’d suggest you walk away. Now.”

  “And stay away from Hannah,” I snarl. “If I catch you bothering her again, I’ll break every bone in your body.”

  Graham’s face turns white. He gawps. He shivers. “You’re joking.”

  “Does he sound like he’s joking?” Morgan whispers. “Leave, Graham. Go home to your wife.”

  Ghost-pale, Graham turns and flees into the night, heading toward Main Street. Morgan watches him go, and then turns to me. “Are you good, Luke?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Shall we get some food, or you want to check on your girl first?”

  I don’t correct him when he calls Hannah my girl this time. In fact, I realize that part of me likes the sound of that. But I pause when we turn for the diner, suddenly rooted to the spot.

  Hannah is standing a few feet from us, staring at me with an inscrutable expression on her face. She bites her lower lip, fiddling with her charcoal hair. I stare back, knowing she saw what just happened, knowing she saw me—what?—defending her honor. I want to fist her hair, guide those unsure lips to mine, and kiss her again, but meaningfully this time. I want to make it so no Grahams can ever bother her again.

  “Uh, hi,” I mutter, sounding like a jackass even to myself.

  Chapter Ten

  Hannah

  It was so crazy. I told Graham to leave and he just persisted for like twenty minutes, our voices getting louder and louder as the time passed. He was telling me all kinds of crazy stuff.

  “I’ve missed you so much, Hannah,” he said. “I just can’t believe you’re back. It’s like destiny, isn’t it?”

  I reminded him he was married like five times, but he didn’t seem to care. He just went on with his wannabe-Romeo routine, until he reached across the table and grabbed my arm. That was it. I wasn’t going to stand for that. So I stood up and told him to get the hell away from me.

  “Go to another table, whatever. Just stop touching me.”

  Then he stormed out.

  For a minute or so, I just finished my coffee, trying to be calm. But then I happened to look outside and saw Luke and this big man standing next to him. I barely even noticed the big man, though. I only had eyes for Luke. He looked so angry. His fists were clenched and his muscles were expanding mightily through his shirt. He was clothed in an aura of protectiveness that both enticed and infuriated me.

  Now, standing in the parking lot, the big man excuses himself and goes into the diner, leaving Luke and I alone, staring at each other across the short space of tarmac.

  “What the hell was that about?” I say, stepping forward.

  Luke does the same. Before we know it, we’re almost touching. Incandescence emanates from him like he’s ready to claim me right now … and I’m not even sure I hate that idea as much as I should. There’s no remorse in his face whatsoever. He just stares at me, deeply, intimately. “Nothing,” he grunts. “Except teaching the little prick some manners.”

  “So you’re my knight in shining armor now, are you?” I sass. “Because, the last time I checked, I didn’t fricking ask for one. I mean, why did you even react like that, huh? I thought you weren’t supposed to care.”

  He growls, “You were the one who ran out on me, twinkle toes. I was ready to take you like we both wanted. Like you begged me to.”

  I flush. My heartbeat trumpets. Suddenly, my body is engaged in a straight-up mutiny, my traitor nerves shivering like an army of mutineers brandishing their weapons. The clinging fabric of my bra rubs suggestively across my nipples. Get it together, girl. How can he make me so excited, so fast?

  “I didn’t beg,” I laugh.

  “No?” He grins wolfishly.

  I giggle. “Nah-uh. I … commanded.”

  “No, no, twinkles toes.” He reaches out and takes my hand. His jaws are clenched. He looks conflicted. But he doesn’t stop. “You were begging, panting, hungry for more. I could tell.”

  “I meant it,” I whisper, trying to stay strong. “What I wrote on that note. What the hell are we doing, Luke? We both know this can’t end well.”

  “I know,” he agrees. “It’s ridiculous. It’s dangerous. And I want it. And so do you. Why don’t I come pick you up later? We can talk more then.”

  “Talk?” I murmur. “About what?”

  His eyes combust me as he stares, seven steps above intense. “You know what,” he growls.

  I do, and he’s right: I want it. I want it badly. I want it so much it hurts. The lust is entirely inexplicable to me. If I was more superstitious, maybe I’d think there was some sort of Cupid magic involved here, because it defies all logic. I’ve been with men before, but it’s always been … meh. This is a conflagration, as if there’s a deep chord in me that vibrates and hums when he gets close, and one in him, too, that does the same.

  “I’m not some crazy nymphomaniac,” I whisper. “But with you, Luke … I don’t know. I feel like I don’t understand anything more. I don’t wanna be melodramatic, but that’s really how I feel.”

  “I feel the same.” He steps closer. Our bodies are pressed together. “The man in the diner is called Morgan, a good friend of mine, my colleague at Sun-Disk. I can’t really abandon him. But let me come pick you up later. Let me take you somewhere.”

  “Where?” I whisper.

  “Somewhere private.”

  Don’t do this, a voice screams in my mind. I think it’s sixteen year old Hannah, the one
with the open emotional wounds. You’ll just get hurt again. Remember Noah. Remember how ferocious and terrifying and mean he looked as he basically forced you into that car, as he told you it was the only way, as he bullied you into doing it.

  But then, another part, half Penny’s voice and half my secret own, Ignore that bitch. Have some fun. Let your hair down. Live. Not in fear, Banana. Just live.

  I let out a trembling sigh, smooshing closer to him, feeling his heartbeat stampeding through his sculptured chest.

  “Okay,” I murmur. “Let me give you my number. Text me when you’re outside, kay? And I’ll come meet you at the car.”

  I don’t want Mom seeing Luke Nelson swaggering up to the door. I can’t even imagine the tempest that would cause in the house.

  After we’ve exchanged numbers, Luke steps back.

  “Soon,” he growls. “Very soon, twinkle toes.”

  “Don’t make me wait too long, frogman,” I fire. “Or I might just find something more interesting to do. Like Netflix and—”

  “Chill?” he interrupts, with a cheeky wink.

  “Oh, God,” I giggle. “You didn’t actually just say that, did you?”

  He grins tightly. “I’m afraid I did, Hannah. I can only apologize from the bottom of my very dark and very morbid heart.”

  “Dark and morbid, huh?” I shoot. “I think I like the sound of that. Reminds me of somebody, actually … a certain rollerskating enthusiast …”

  “Yeah, and who’s that? Because there’s nothing dark and morbid about you. You’re like a breath of fresh air. The most vivacious person I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  “Scratch a little deeper, bad boy,” I laugh. “Then you’ll see how wrong you are.”

  We’re backing away as we banter, throwing our barbs across the expanding length of the parking lot. Finally, he turns for the diner, and I turn to head toward Main Street and Memorial Park and, eventually, through the Mini ’Burbs.

  But I’ve barely reached Main Street when I hear footsteps behind me. I turn to find Luke jogging lightly. He stops, smirking. “I had to be a bad friend,” he says. “I sat down for about fifteen seconds before it became pretty damn obvious, to both of us, that I was gonna be terrible company. I’d prefer to be with you. Hell, tonight, I feel like I need to be.”