Fire Inside

by Kristen Ashley

  “You play that game, just like your sister, you’ll be cut off,” he warned.

  “Newsflash, Dad. Just like Elissa, I wanted a father who was loyal and true to my mother and, if he couldn’t be that, he could at least let her go so she could find happiness in herself or someone else. Money and cars and houses, nothing holds a candle to that, so you can’t buy my love and loyalty and you can’t hurt me by taking things away I never wanted in the first place.”

  “You say that now but—”

  “Save it,” I bit off, lifting my hand and throwing it out at the same time turning on my boot and stomping to the stairs.

  “Lanie, you leave, you do this, your mother will be devastated,” he called to my back. Four steps up, I turned back to him.

  “You’re right. She will. And that sucks. But you know what? She’s lived with devastation a really long time. She knows the drill.”

  On that, I turned again and stomped up the steps.

  I yanked out my suitcase while pressing buttons on my phone.

  “Lady,” Hop greeted after one ring.

  “I… uh, Hop…” I trailed off mostly because my throat closed and I couldn’t force words out of my mouth.

  He heard it, sensed it by Hop Magic or both.

  I knew this when he ordered low, “Talk to me.”

  I forced down a swallow and tossed my suitcase on the bed. “There was a, um… some unpleasantness… when I got back. Actually I would say it was more like… extreme unpleasantness.”

  He didn’t ask.

  He didn’t hesitate.

  He just clipped out, “Pack. Text your address. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  My body stopped dead and my eyes closed tight.

  “Lanie? You hear me?” Hop called.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  His voice was gentle when he replied, “Pack, baby.”

  “Okay.”

  “Text me first. I want to be waiting at the door when you’re done.”

  “Okay.”

  “See you soon.”

  “Okay.”

  “Bye, lady.”

  “Bye, Hop.”

  We disconnected and I moved, flying through the room, packing with haste.

  I was nearly finished when Dad appeared in my doorway.

  “Don’t say another word,” I warned, not looking at him.

  He didn’t heed my warning.

  “Please understand. I started that downstairs because I’m worried about you, Lanie. Your mother and I are both worried. Very worried, and we have been for years. You’ve been alone for a long time and a beautiful girl like you, a girl with your heart… honey, that’s just not natural.”

  I made no reply, just kept packing.

  “I love her,” he whispered, and pain seared through me.

  “Not another word, Dad.”

  “I love both of them.”

  Oh God!

  I stopped and whirled on him. “Not another word, Dad.”

  “Can you imagine, living years, loving two women, knowing what you’re doing to both of them?”

  “No, I can’t and I don’t want to and furthermore, what is the matter with you that you’d even ask me that shit? I’m your daughter.”

  He winced.

  I went back to packing.

  “I love you too, Lanie,” he said quietly as I zipped up my case.

  I yanked it off the bed, stomped to him and stopped.

  “Then prove it. Pick one or the other. If it’s Mom, get her in a program. But do something, Dad, because this is going to end in tragedy one way or another. You’ve had a good run but you lost one daughter to this, and you’re losing another right now. Two tragedies. Don’t court more.”

  With that, I shoved by him, hauling my case with me. I struggled down the stairs (it did weigh half a ton) grabbed my purse off the side table by the front door and took off through it.

  Hop in his shiny, black, twin-cab Dodge Ram was idling outside my parents’ condo.

  He leaned across the cab and pushed open the door the minute he saw me, the interior light coming on.

  With a heave, I failed to toss my bag in the truck bed. On the second heave, it was caught in Hop’s hands, pulled from mine and tossed over like it weighed as much as a pillow. Without hesitation, I turned to the car door and, with another heave, I hauled my body into the passenger seat.

  Seconds later, Hop hauled his in on the driver’s side.

  “Babe—”

  “Go,” I whispered to the seatbelt I was wrapping around me.

  “Lanie—”

  I twisted to him and cried, “Go, go, go!”

  Eyes glued to me, he put the truck in gear. He only looked to the road when we were moving.

  “You gonna talk to me?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Didn’t like leavin’ the kids, babe. Gotta take you back there.”

  “Okay.”

  “You sleep with me. We’ll get up early.”

  “Okay.”

  “Lanie—”

  “Please,” I whispered and got silence.

  We were closing in on his condo when he broke it.

  “Your eyes are haunted, honey. This is more than your mom bein’ an alcoholic and your family livin’ in denial and that’s already fuckin’ bad enough.”

  “Yes.”

  More silence while he waited for me to share.

  I didn’t.

  Hop didn’t push. He parked, came around to my side, hauled my suitcase out of the back and grabbed my hand. His condo was quiet when we got in. I hadn’t been gone long but clearly his kids had crashed after an active day.

  And clearly Hop read my mood because he took me and my bag straight to his room and ordered, “Get ready for bed. I’m closin’ down and lockin’ up. Be back.”

  I nodded, did as ordered and wandered from the master bathroom into his room while he was pulling off his tee.

  I went directly to the bed.

  Hop went to the bathroom and met me in bed after he turned off the lights.

  He didn’t turn me into his arms.

  I burrowed there.

  “Thank God you came up here. Thank God. Thank God. Thank God,” I chanted quietly into his chest.

  He gathered my hair away and I felt his lips at the top of my head where he whispered, “Lanie, talk to me.”

  I shook my head.

  “Later?” he asked.

  “Later,” I answered, relieved I didn’t have to get into it then. I didn’t have it in me.

  “Promise?” he asked.

  “I promise,” I answered.

  His hands left my hair and he closed his arms around me.

  I let his warmth and strength seep into me, feeling the tension and pain dull. It did not go away but I’d take it dulling for now.

  “It’s his.”

  Hop said this into the dark.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Knew it the minute I saw the arrogant, stick-up-his-ass fucker.”

  I lifted my head and looked at him in the dark. “What, honey?”

  “That monster in you. It might have fed on other shit along the way, got strong and took control, but it was your father who planted the egg that hatched.”

  I dropped my face to his chest. This was my way of answering in the affirmative.

  He cupped his hand to the back of my head.

  “Enough. I’m done. You sleep,” he ordered.

  “Okay.”

  His hand sifted through my hair.

  I turned my cheek to his chest and held onto his warm, strong body.

  His fingers kept sifting through my hair.

  My body had melted into his, my eyes drooping, I was close to sleep when I whispered, “Please be real.”

  His hand in my hair stilled, curled around my head and Hop whispered back, “Lady, I’m as real as it gets.”

  I burrowed closer and fell asleep hoping he was telling the truth.

  No.

  Chapter Eigh
t

  “You’ll Accomp’ny Me”

  Hop and I were sitting at a table in a biker bar that was so much better than the one I where I’d met Monster Truck Man, it wasn’t funny. That said, it was still rough but rough in a cool, kickass way, not a scary, precursor to being violated way.

  Two mornings before, Hop had woken me early at his condo in Vail with a kiss that led to some cuddling and groping but he didn’t take it anywhere. Still, it felt nice and it was better than phone sex even if it didn’t lead to fruition. This was because it involved Hop, his hands, his mouth, his rough, sleepy voice right in my ear and his body right there for me to put my hands and my mouth on. It was fantastic.

  We were up and out of bed before the kids woke. I was in the kitchen making pancakes when they cutely and sleepily made their way downstairs.

  As an aside, Hop got gold stars because he had buttermilk available for pancakes. These stars started shining when he told me pancakes weren’t worth making without buttermilk and, since this was the God’s honest truth, I took it as happy indication that Hopper Kincaid and I might just be soul mates.

  As they were waiting for pancakes, Hop gave the kids a vague explanation of why I was there, saying my parents had to go home early and he was helping out by giving me another day in Vail. The kids took this in but they did it in a way where I knew explanations were unnecessary. They liked pancakes. They liked being in Vail with their dad. They liked me. So it didn’t matter to them why I was there. They were just happy to go with the flow.

  We did pancakes, we went into the Village, we had lunch then we headed home. Riding the high that was being with Hop and his kids, not to mention Hop coming to my rescue in a Dodge Ram the night before, I asked if they wanted to stick around when they dropped me off at my place and I’d make them dinner.

  To this offer, I got two enthusiastic replies from the back of the cab and one eye slide complete with sexy, warm grin from the driver’s seat. I took this as ringing endorsement for my idea. I also didn’t try to stop myself from processing how nice that felt.

  I didn’t have food so we stopped by the grocery store before we went to my house. Hop dragged my suitcase upstairs while the kids alternately explored and chattered to me and I made chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, thick white gravy with loads of pepper and green beans. Since I didn’t have time, I cheated on the key lime pie and made the pie my grandmother taught me how to make, “When you’re in a pinch, sugar plum.” That was, frozen lime juice concentrate mixed with Cool Whip, tossed into a premade graham cracker crust and chilled. It didn’t hold a candle to the real thing but, like Mamaw said, it did in a pinch or at least the way Hop, Molly and Cody wolfed it down, it seemed to.

  Dinner was another revelation of all things Hop.

  After taking my suitcase upstairs, he, like his kids, explored my house.

  But there was something sweet and strangely profound in the way he did it. So much so, I found my eyes wandering to him and I found that warmth around my heart growing.

  This was because I caught sight of him holding the framed picture of me and Lis. We were in profile, our foreheads pressed together, looking in each other’s eyes, smiling huge, clearly close and loving. When Hop was looking at it, his lips were curved up in a sexy smile, his eyes were soft, his expression something I felt like a physical touch. The same with the picture of Ty-Ty and me, both in little black dresses, both sitting at a swank bar, both holding a martini glass, both laughing so hard our heads were thrown back. The same when he ran one of his long fingers down the fake fur of the stuffed black panther I had on my couch. It was my aunt’s. She’d died young, but before she died she gave Lis and me a lot of loving. When she died, that panther was the only thing of hers I wanted. I got it and I kept it right on my couch so I could see it every day.

  I could tell, because he didn’t hide it, that Hop liked having the opportunity to get to know me better by taking in the things I kept around me.

  And I liked it that Hop liked it.

  Another revelation was Hop and his kids eating my cooking. The kids just liked it, were polite enough to say so, but their enthusiasm while eating said it better.

  For Hop, if there was a test to pass with him, the way he ate my food, I knew I’d passed it. But it was the way he looked at me after he took his third bite, the expression on his face taking all of my attention, his lips muttering, “Good food, babe,” that I knew it was less a compliment and more a revelation about me that he liked.

  A whole lot.

  And I liked that too.

  Because of the kids, we didn’t get to make out when they left. We did get to have phone sex later because of Hop.

  He called late. I answered on the first ring.

  He opened with, “Not gonna push, lady. Not a good time to share over the phone and I want you to share when you’re ready to do it, but just wanna know, you good?”

  I liked knowing he wasn’t going to push but still wanted to make sure I was okay.

  “I’m good and, thanks for coming to my rescue and giving me a good day so it would take my mind off things.”

  “One way or another, babe, got your back,” he replied, then he moved us out of the heavy and into the fantastic when he told me to cup my breast.

  He gave me an orgasm and then gave me a warning before he rang off. “Now you owe me again. Tomorrow night, lady.”

  This meant I went to sleep relaxed, happy, and looking forward to the next day.

  I woke up refreshed.

  After a weekend with my parents that included a blowout with my dad, this was a miracle.

  And I owed it all to Hopper Kincaid.

  Therefore, letting him in further, I called him that day at work.

  He answered in one ring. “Lady.”

  “Hey. Things good?” I asked.

  “Kids are gone, which is not good. Took ’em to school so they’ll do the switchover without me havin’ to see their mom, which is good. And got plans with my woman tonight and that’s definitely good.”

  This was an excellent answer.

  I didn’t tell him that. I told him, “I need to know the dress code tonight.”

  “The dress code is, you wear what you want. You work anything you put on,” he told me.

  This was also an excellent answer.

  “But, if you gotta plan,” he went on, “we’re goin’ to a bar to watch a band and they probably don’t have martini glasses.”

  I smiled into the phone and confirmed, “Message relayed.” Then I asked, “A band?”

  “My buddy’s the lead singer, lead guitarist of a band. Been at it for decades. They’re good. He and me’ll connect during their breaks. You and me’ll connect before they play and after we get home.”

  Now that was an excellent answer.

  Therefore, I gave him my understatement. “Sounds fun, honey.”

  “The first part will be fun. The second part will be wow.”

  I remembered Hop’s brand of “wow”.

  Definitely something to look forward to.

  I was smiling into the phone again when I said, “Gotta get back to work.”

  “Pick you up at seven,” he replied.

  “See you then, Hop.”

  “Later, baby.”

  “Later, honey.”

  We disconnected and I smiled through the day. I did this even with the knowing looks I got from my staff. I also miraculously did this even after calling my sister to give her the lowdown of the weekend.

  Elissa was ticked because it happened, livid at what Dad said to me, but happy I finally found the backbone to lay down the law.

  “Now stick to it, Lanie,” she advised. “The thing that business with Elliott should have taught you is not what Dad says it should have taught you, but that life is way too short to put up with dysfunction like that. If Dad didn’t get the wakeup call from that whole scene then there’s nothing more you can do. Now, I know you have to work but I want sister time, ironclad, in your calendar, at l
east an hour so you can tell me all about this Hopper Kincaid guy. And you’ve got forty-eight hours to fit me into your schedule, girl. If you don’t, I’m flying to Denver and I’ll find out about this guy myself. It isn’t like the Chaos MC and Ride Custom Bikes and Cars are located in secret bunkers so don’t force me to do anything dramatic.”

  Obviously, I’d had to tell my sister about Hop to give her the whole scoop about Dad. Also obviously, the drama gene had been inherited from Mom by both of us.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow at lunch,” I assured her.

  “Holding you to that,” she returned. “Now, you get back to work.”

  We rang off and I got back to work. I knew she got back to work, too, but this consisted of doing laundry, cleaning house, doing school runs and cooking for a family of four, thus she was probably a lot busier than I was.

  Later, Hop picked me up and took me to the bar and Hop did all this again without pushing me to share what had happened with Dad.

  For some reason, we weren’t on his bike. We were in the Ram, so there were opportunities to talk on the way to the bar, as well as when we shared a Lanie-approved evening meal of bar food including hot wings, fried mushrooms, and stuffed potato skins. He just didn’t force me to talk. Not about that.

  We ate. We drank beer. We chatted. We laughed.

  Hop, without my drama, his kids, or sex, was mellow and amusing. I knew this since I’d known him for years but having all that to myself, his body close, our knees brushing, his attention solely on me, felt so good it was hard to process. Not because I wasn’t letting myself do it, just because I’d never had anything so simple and good.

  And right.

  I’d dated a lot. I’d had more than my fair share of male attention. I’d been treated to posh restaurants, the finest champagne and effusive compliments. Elliott, in his geeky, sweet Elliott way, gave me all of that in spades.

  Hop gave none of that to me.

  But that date was the best I’d ever had.

  Bar none.

  Feeling very good about all of this, the remains of our grease fest laying in front of us, new beers having recently been added, I turned to Hop. We were sitting side-by-side at a round table facing a now empty stage so when I turned and leaned in, my breast brushed Hop’s arm and he immediately gave me his attention.