I Hate to Stand Alone

by Casey Winter

  Heat stings my cheeks.

  I reel back, aiming the extinguisher. But when I press the nozzle, nothing happens.

  What the hell?

  The flames are consuming the desk now, some of them starting to lick at the walls, embers spitting and hissing.

  I look down at the extinguisher, realizing I haven’t removed the pin thingy, which is some sort of tamper seal.

  I grab it and pull it loose, and then aim at the roaring flames.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Luke

  With my phone on silent, I go for an evening run, trying to clear my head. Which is impossible, because it’s a whirring mess of Noah and Hannah and Hannah and Noah.

  I think about the drive to the abortion clinic, how Noah must’ve kept talking to her in that way he had. Quiet but determined to get his own way, never taking no for an answer. As a kid, we used to teasingly call him No-No Noah, because if you told him no, he’d whine, “No-no.” Which meant that he was saying no to the very idea you could refuse him.

  It was the same as he got older. Noah was a good kid, at heart. He was a good soldier and he served his country well. But he had a petulant streak in him, too, a way of getting cold and mean when he didn’t get what he wanted. I always thought it was relegated to petty things: sneakers, boxing gloves, one time a motorbike. I never dreamed it extended to relationships.

  I curse myself as I run the forest trail, picking my way through at a steady jog with the flashlight strapped to my forehead. This used to be one of my favorite things to do when training for the SEALs. Moving through the darkness like I’m a part of the wind, disappearing from town, pretending it doesn’t exist.

  Just my breath, the rustle of the leaves, the sounds the animals make.

  It’s even stranger tonight, because I feel a newfound sense of peace. Sharing with Hannah did something to me, changed me in some way, opened me up. And I didn’t break. That amazes me. I always thought I had to stay ice-cold or I’d go too far the other way, burn up with all the rage and regret of the past.

  But Hannah has shown me a new way. And it scares the life out of me. Because if I’m not cold anymore, then who am I? It’ll be like killing the old Luke and becoming somebody new, and maybe he’ll be better than me, or maybe not. I don’t know.

  It’s the unknown and I’ve always treated that with suspicion. Contrary to what people like to tell themselves, there are monsters in the dark. In the real dark and in the dark of people’s souls.

  Nice second-rate poetry, bro, Noah sneers from my mind.

  But I can’t get my head straight. I can’t think. Or, really, I can’t stop my overthinking mind long enough to focus on one thing.

  I was supposed to avoid her. I was supposed to hate her. I was supposed to put my brother first. But now my brother has turned into a man I don’t recognize and hating Hannah is impossible. I can’t make sense of it.

  So I just keep running.

  —

  After a good hour, I end up back in town, entering through the Mini ’Burbs and heading for home. I drop down on the front step, noting that Hannah’s pink monstrosity is nowhere to be seen. I wonder where she is. Not at the rink, since I closed it for the night, Alexis calling in sick and me, hell, I guess me just not having the commitment Noah’s letter demanded of me.

  I want you to take my nest egg back to Little Fall and reopen Mom’s old roller rink. She loved that place. I’ll always remember the look on her face when she had to sell up.

  That was what Noah asked me, not: Hey, Luke, I want you to screw my childhood sweetheart. Oh, and by the way, I forced her to get an abortion because it didn’t fit into my ten-year plan. Thanks, bro.

  I take out my cellphone. As luck, or fate, or whatever the hell people believe would have it, Oliver’s calling me as soon as I take it from my pocket.

  “Finally,” he snaps, and I realize it wasn’t luck or fate or anything else. He must’ve been calling me nonstop. I guess he’s drunk, since my ex-employer and the CEO of Sun-Disk Security is only this brash when he’s been drinking. “Thought you’d changed your number then, Luke.”

  “Nope,” I say. “How can I help you, Oliver?”

  He snorts. “It seems I’m the one who’s helped you, Luke. It seems to me you’ve been pretty damn ungrateful. I know we agreed you’d be a free agent, and that’s fine’n dandy.”

  “Is it?” I growl. “Because it doesn’t sound fine. Or dandy.”

  “I took you on after the SEALs,” he snaps. He’s definitely drunk. It’s making him foolish. “There are men who’d look at what happened over there, who’d look at that mess overseas, and they’d say to themselves, ‘Nah, this guy’s an unknown quantity.’ Know what I mean?”

  “No,” I say quietly. “Why don’t you enlighten me, Oliver?”

  “Well, you were the only surviving man in your unit. That’d raise some questions for some people. Not me, though.”

  “Hmm,” I mutter, gripping the phone hard. “If you have something to say, say it. I’m not in the mood for this beating-around-the-bush crap.”

  “It’s time you came back to work,” he yells. There’s an audible slam, and then he curses quietly. I’m guessing he punched his desk. “You’re our top operator. I don’t think you understand what that means. When people hear the name Sun-Disk Security, they think of you. And Morgan, of course. You and Morgan: that’s what people come for.”

  “Okay,” I say. “And you’re angry because we’re both free agents.”

  “Of course I am,” he spits.

  “Are you done?” I ask.

  I can hear him deflating. “Yeah, Luke, I’m done.”

  “Firstly, Oliver, you’re never going to mention what happened overseas again. You’ve never served. You don’t know a damn thing about it. I hear you talking about the teams again, we’re gonna have a problem. Man to man, we’ll have to sort that out. Am I clear?”

  He swallows nervously. “Okay, Luke. Take it easy. Sorry, man. I’m … I’m a bit tipsy tonight, okay?”

  “I know,” I say quietly. “It’s alright, Oliver. I’ve put you in a bad spot. I can see that.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “Really, Luke.”

  “It’s fine,” I growl. “As long as we’re clear.”

  “We’re clear. One-hundred percent.”

  “Good.” I sigh, glancing at Hannah’s house. Through the closed curtains, I can see a skinny shadow moving across the living room, gesturing. Teresa, the woman who hates me. “Secondly, it’s a damn shame that you’ve built your entire business off the backs of two contractors, but that’s your mistake, not mine. I’ve remained a free agent for a reason. No amount of blustering is gonna change that.”

  “I get that,” Oliver says. “But it’s been almost two months now. You’re not supposed to waste away in some dog-turd town in the middle of nowhere. What’re you gonna do, find some country girl down there and start raising kids?”

  “And why not?” I find myself snarling, jumping to my feet. “Other men do it. Other men find a woman. Other men fall in love and have children. Why can’t I? What, ’cause I’ve been to war, ’cause I’ve killed people? Soldiers get married all the damn time. Most of the men in my old unit were married. What makes me so different?”

  “Woah,” Oliver says quietly. “I didn’t know you cared like that, Luke.”

  “I don’t,” I say, trying to laugh it off. I sit down, thinking about Hannah. I’m always thinking about Hannah. “You just need to accept that I’ll be back when I’m ready.”

  “But when will that be?” Oliver whines.

  “Maybe never. Maybe tomorrow. I don’t know. That’s my right, as a free agent. I’m not tied down.”

  “But you want to tie yourself down to Little Fall and a roller rink,” Oliver sighs. “That’s what I just don’t get.”

  “We’ve been over this,” I grunt.

  “I know. Your little brother’s will. For Christ’s sake, Luke.”

  “Wh
at?” I bark. My anger keeps coming in flashes, blinding me. “Maybe I’m starting to like it here. Maybe I like not waking up with a gun under my pillow, knowing that before the sun sets, I’ll either be dead or hunting somebody down. There are good people in this town, even if you want to look down on them.”

  His lighter goes tsk as he lights a cigarette. Puffing audibly, he says, “I’m not going to get through to you, am I?”

  “No,” I tell him.

  “Hell,” he grumbles. “Fine, alright, Luke. And—and you know we’re all proud of you, don’t you? All of us at Sun-Disk?”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “For your Navy Cross. For how you stood your ground against those insurgents. I was just talking drunk before. Talking angry. Everyone knows you’re a hero.”

  I laugh savagely. “I’ve never felt like much of a hero, Oliver, but thanks. Take care of yourself.”

  “Call me the second you want to get back to it,” Oliver says firmly. “The second.”

  “Roger that. Goodbye.”

  “Bye, Luke.”

  I hang up.

  Part of me feels for Oliver, for the bind he’s put himself in. But that’s just the point. He put himself in this position. Nobody forced him to build his business on his two most efficient operators, sending us into the field while he takes the lion’s share of the revenue, even if Morgan and I have made enough cash with Sun-Disk that we could retire now if we wanted.

  I’m about to put my phone away when I see that I have three missed calls: two from Hannah and one from Coach.

  I find it odd that Coach would call me, seeing as he never has before. So my inclination is to return his call first. But then, if Hannah has called me twice, maybe it’s important. Despite asking her to give me a day, I’m relieved to see that she’s called. She might think she’s being needy. I know women get like that sometimes. But that’s only when men aren’t interested, I think. I don’t see her as needy. If anything, I need her, badly. I call Hannah.

  “Luke, finally,” she gasps.

  “What is it?” I sit up, immediately tense. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, well—sort of.”

  “What?” I growl.

  “It’s the rink. There was a fire. I’m here with Sheriff Fuller now. Can you get down here?”

  “There was a … what?”

  “Just get here, please? I’ll explain anything.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  I jump to my feet and run over to the Chevy, thinking about Jock and Will putting on their cat burglar outfits and making Molotov cocktails, laughing as they discuss how Family Roller—how my mother’s pride and joy—is going to burn to the ground.

  And for what? Because my dad undercuts their prices on a few nails and screws? Or is it Jock’s thwarted wrestling career? Does he really want to start a war over that?

  Goddamn idiots.

  I’m going to make them pay.

  I race through town, pushing it as fast as I can while still being safe. My tires screech when I come to a stop outside the rink. I see Hannah’s Beetle as well as Coach’s police cruiser as I jog inside, full of pent-up rage. “Where are they?” I yell, marching over to the desk.

  Hannah is sitting in the stool, Coach leaning on the desk, his hat and his notepad resting next to his arm. “Wait a second, Luke,” Coach says, holding out his hands. “I’m still taking Hannah’s statement.”

  “When did this happen?” I demand.

  “About an hour and a half ago,” Hannah answers.

  We lock eyes for a moment. I feel all my previous indecision thawing just at the sight of her.

  “We tried calling,” Coach says.

  “Why are you only taking her statement now?” I say. “If it happened an hour and a half ago?”

  “Let me finish here, Luke,” Coach says. “And then we’ll explain everything.”

  “Hanlons,” I glower. “Where’s the damage?”

  “Luke,” Hannah snaps, but giggles at the same time, to take some of the sting out of it. “Let the sheriff do his job.”

  “Okay,” I grunt. “But don’t take too long about it.”

  I go to the bar and crack myself a beer, sipping slowly, trying to calm myself down. I see that some tape has been strewn across the stairs leading to the office, so I’m guessing the fire was up there. The only question is how did it stop and why is Hannah here? I don’t need to ask who did it. That’s obvious.

  The Hanlons.

  Finally, Coach and Hannah walk in. Hannah is back in her yoga pants and hoodie and her hair is tied up, looking fierce and breathy. She looks so perfect it takes all my self-control not to drag her into my lap in front of Coach.

  “Let me explain it from the beginning,” she says, sitting down next to me. Our legs touch. Without thinking, I place my hand on her knee. She looks at it for a second, smirking a little. Then the smirk becomes a gorgeous smile, and she faces me. “Okay?”

  “Yep,” I agree, calmed by her closeness.

  I listen in anger and wonder as she tells me how she arrived here to find a figure in black—Jock or Will Hanlon, that’s my bet—running down the stairs. How she sprinted up the stairs and put the fire out herself, stopping it before the damage was irreparable. How she then ran outside and called the police, patrolling the rink in her skates to make sure they didn’t come back to finish what they’d started.

  “Jesus, Hannah,” I say, more than a little proud. “Thank you. But you shouldn’t have put yourself in harm’s way. If something had happened to you—”

  I cut off when I feel Coach grinning at the tender moment, clearly approving of how protective I am over her. His pride radiates from his kind eyes, but it makes me uncomfortable, having me and Hannah on display like this. And that’s despite the fact Hannah is the one who’s wanted to hide us this past week, not me.

  Confused yet, brother? Noah taunts from deep in my memory.

  I turn to Coach. “So when are you questioning them?”

  “Luke, the reason I was late taking her statement is because we’ve been searching for this masked figure. From Hannah’s description, it seems the suspect was too short to be either Jock or Will Hanlon.”

  I scoff. “Witness testimonies are notoriously unreliable in these kinds of situations, Coach. We both know that. People’s nerves betray them. They misremember things. No offence, twinkle toes.”

  She digs me in the side. It seems we’re sliding effortlessly back into our Luke-and-Hannah easiness, and I welcome it. “Offence definitely taken, bad boy,” she chides. “But he has a point, Sheriff. It all happened so fast. Plus, to be honest, it’s been a, like, majorly stressful couple of days.”

  Coach nods slowly, tugging at his grey-black beard. “My deputies are out there now, looking for this figure. If he turns up, we’ll see.”

  “Just go knocking on Hanlon Hardware,” I snarl. “They jumped me in the park. You said it yourself, Coach. Jock’s got it in for me because of that wrestling injury. And these goddamn Hardware Wars. I thought they were a joke at first. But clearly not.”

  “We’ll look into it,” Coach says. “But we can’t jump to—”

  “Hello?” someone calls from the entrance. “Are you open?” I turn in disbelief as Jock Hanlon, dressed in his lime-green Hanlon Hardware uniform, strides into the room, a self-satisfied grin on his face. “I heard you fellas were fixing up a barbeque,” he says. “Was just passing and thought I’d join in.”

  I stand up, stepping forward, meaning to take his head off with a clean right hook. But, despite his age, Coach has still got some spring in his step. He dives between us, hands raised. “Easy, boys,” he snaps. “Let’s not get silly.”

  “You’re an idiot, Hanlon,” I snarl. “Returning to the scene of the crime just to gloat. Rookie mistake.”

  He narrows his eyes, pretending not to know what I’m talking about. “I hope you’re not suggesting I had anything to do with this, Lukey boy.”

  “Nah, you just happe
n to come by here a couple of hours after somebody tried to burn the place down?” I square my shoulders. “If you think you’ve got a problem you need to settle, Jock, we can do this. No more sneaking around. Let’s handle it.”

  “I heard it from Deputy Kane Griffin,” Jock says. “Seriously, Lukey boy, you need to get your anger in check. It might cause you problems one of these days.”

  I press forward, right into Coach’s hand. If he wasn’t between us, it’d get bloody and violent. I can tell Jock is as game as I am.

  “Luke,” Hannah says softly, touching my arm. “Come on, calm down. Don’t do this.”

  “Listen to your girl, Nelson,” Jock grins. “She’s got more sense than you, clearly.”

  “Jock,” Coach snaps. “Why are you here? Just to gloat?”

  “Yeah, Coach, that’s about the size of it.”

  Coach sighs. “Does that seem like a good idea? Come on, kid, you’ve gotta have more sense than that. I suggest you leave before something bad happens. And Luke’s right. It is suspicious, you turning up like this. I’m going to need to question you.”

  Jock snorts. “Go ahead. Me’n Will have been working all damn day and night, something Lukey boy’s lazy dad knows nothing about.”

  “Coach, move your hand,” I mutter. “Let me at this smug prick. How about it, Jock? You good to take this outside?”

  Jock shrugs. “By all means, Lukey boy.”

  “See?” I snap. “It’s a fair fight. We’re both willing. Let’s go.”

  Coach glares at me. “Luke, you can’t expect me to let two Little Fallers just start swinging at each other. Hannah, please take him somewhere to cool off.”

  “Luke.” She tugs harder on my arm, urgency in her voice. “I don’t want to see you fight. Please. You need to calm down.”

  I hold Jock’s gaze for a few moments longer and then, reluctantly, turn away. It’s only Hannah’s touch that does it. And the genuine concern in her voice. I know it’d mess her up, seeing me either hurt or hurting somebody else.

  “Thatta boy, Lukey,” Jock calls after me.