I have to fight for him now, though. If anything can hold him to the fire, bring him back to the light—and away from trouble like he found in Vegas—it’s our child. In his heart, I know he would want to protect this baby from all the world’s evils.
Too full to finish the rest of my shake, I take the near-empty container and my purse and roll out of the car onto extremely tired legs. I meander my way to the trash can I should probably pull to the curb for Sheila and drop my cup inside. I’ll wake up early and get it out before the truck comes. Tonight, I’m just too exhausted. I don’t know how I’m ever going to be awake with enough energy to work on my oil strokes or sketching.
I drag myself up the stairs and slip into my small apartment, still void of things that say I live here. I had plans to decorate, but my finances have changed course a little over the last few days. I fumble for the chain lock and just as I’m sliding it into the slot, someone knocks at my door.
I leap and yelp at the same time, dropping the chain and letting it swing against the door. It’s probably Sheila, checking on me. She’s been pretty attentive since I came home in tears after taking two pregnancy tests. I think somehow she feels this is all her fault. I assured her the only two people involved in making this baby were me and the baby’s father. I haven’t uttered who that is, not to anyone, even though nobody around here knows who Dustin is. My life link to him is severed in this place, and for the purpose of a clear head, I need to keep that up for a little while. A few days, at least.
“Sorry if I woke you, Sh—”
It’s not until I open the door wide, foolishly thinking I am safe in this quiet college town, that I realize I’ve let in the devil.
“Alex.” I say his name loudly, maybe a bit wanting to announce my visitor as if someone is around to hear me say it. Sheila can barely hear me when I’m in the same room with her. I’m sure she’s either long been in bed or is hidden away in her bedroom reading those cowboy romances she loves.
“Hannah, I know it’s late. I’m sorry. I wanted to wait for you to come home and I guess you get home late. College life, huh? Ha ha. I probably could have come back in the morning, but . . . I’m needed back in Vegas. You know how it goes.” He’s walking this fine line between considerate and creepy. He smells like cigar and whatever cologne it is he wears. I’m not sure whether he dunked himself in it or my nose is incredibly sensitive, but I feel like throwing up all over him.
I hold a hand on my chest and feign startled, which I am, but mostly I’m masking the acid crawling up my esophagus.
“Sorry. You— Wow! You scared me.” Play innocent, Hannah. Give nothing away.
“I’ve been known to do that. Sorry.” What the fuck? Uh, yeah you have been!
He leans into the door jamb so I step back to gain some space. He’s already too far into my doorway to lock him out. I could never overpower him.
“Why . . . are you here?” I lean my head to the side and show my concern. It’s strange, no matter what the circumstances are for Alex to be here. I’m not giving anything away by showing that.
“I wanted to say thank you. And I was in town.”
“You have business in Omaha,” I deadpan. He’s full of shit with that statement.
“Ha, yeah. I guess you got me,” he says, mouth falling into a tight line, a hint of a smirk playing at his bearded cheeks. He’s here on business. I’ll buy that much. But I also know I am that business.
“I’d offer to take you to dinner, but I was about to go to sleep.” I’m careful not to say the word bed. My body teems with frightened energy. I don’t want any part of Alex touching any part of me. It’s bad enough that I’m inhaling his breath.
“No, no. That’s not necessary. Like I said, I just want to thank you, you know, for the heads up on that little trap your boyfriend was setting.” He leans in more, his body fully inside my apartment. He peers to the right and scans the living area and kitchen. He’s looking for Dustin.
“He isn’t here. And he’s not my boyfriend.” My chest tightens at those words. They are true, but they’re also complicated.
Alex rocks back on his feet with a single breathy laugh, his eyes still probing my apartment for clues.
“That your bedroom back there?”
He thinks Dustin is hiding.
“It is. You can go check it out if you want, but I’ll wait outside. No offense.” He’s offended.
His eyes are glued to mine for several quiet seconds, his lids lowering until he’s staring at me through suspicious slits.
“I’ll be damned. That why you called me? Because good old faithful Dustin broke up with you? You thought you’d get some revenge and ruin his plans?” He smirks, pretty sure he’s on the right track. His lie is good enough.
“Something like that. Only I’m not interested in revenge or having anything to do with Dustin Bridges ever again.” My stomach lurches so I shuffle my feet and shift my posture, praying he can’t see the sweat forming on my brow.
Again, he stares.
After a few more seconds, his chest shakes with quiet laughter and he runs his hand over his bearded chin, finally dropping his hands in his suit jacket pockets as he nods.
“That’s good to hear, Hannah. Might get kinda hard since he’s around your family so much.”
“Which is why I’m here, and not there,” I answer back. My head falls slightly to the side and I narrow my gaze and purse my lips. These lies aren’t totally fabricated. There’s a lot of truth woven in, which makes it an easier sell. I just need to tap into those feelings of betrayal and anger.
Alex seems to buy into my story as he nods slightly. His eyes have quit taking inventory of my apartment, which is thankfully void of all things Dustin. The only remnants I have are the T-shirt he gave back to me and the tattoo on my wrist from the first time he broke my heart.
“Is there anything you need, Hannah? Money? Tuition, perhaps?”
I shiver, and I’m sure he sees it. He likes when people squirm. People like him get off on power like this.
“I’m good,” I say, stopping short of telling him I would never knowingly take a dime from him. I can sense him leaving. His weight has shifted, his suspicions quelled. Yet I’m bothered that he is here at all. Before I can stop myself, I throw one more question out there.
“How did you find me anyway?”
My hands pick at the frayed bottom of my T-shirt and his gaze zeroes in on it. His lips curve, just a tick, because he’s pleased to see I’m nervous. Sadistic motherfucker.
“Oh, Hannah. I know whereabouts of everyone I’ve ever done business with. Always, and at all times.” He finishes with a big grin, then bows to bid me what I guess is goodnight.
My mouth hangs open, ready to question his threat, but I manage to stop myself and simply let him go. After trailing down the steps, he disappears into the darkness beyond my car, and I shut my door quietly, not wanting him to have any clues about my panicked heart. I sweep the chain lock in place and twist the deadbolt, then rush to my bedroom that has nothing comforting of my own in sight. I dig through the suitcase I have yet to unpack and find the yellow racing shirt that still smells like Dustin. I hold it against my face, breathing in his essence in hopes it fuels my courage.
I decide right then that this baby will be my secret until I know the best way to keep it safe. Dustin can never know. And he and I can never be. After several minutes of my mind reeling, running through the same plans and scenarios over and over, I pull my phone from my bag and fire off a quick text to Bailey.
ME: Met a few people and am trying out a bar. Wish me luck. Call you tomorrow?
She must have been waiting for my call because she writes back immediately. Her disappointment is obvious.
BAILEY: Sure.
I’m pushing away everyone who gives me strength, but they’re all better off without me. I wish I could separate them from Dustin, too, but then he would be completely alone, and my heart can’t handle that either.
* * *
I can’t be in this room. I can’t indulge in Dustin’s presence. I shouldn’t even smile in the same space as him. Anything cordial will look like reconciliation, and Alex will find out. Especially if Dustin sees him all the time.
I push back from the table and ignore the rumble in my stomach that has already awoken to the scent of my mom’s pancakes and eggs.
“I’m not very hungry, Mom. I think you’re right. I should try to get more sleep. If Bristol wakes up, do you mind getting her?” I play off her weakness: time with her granddaughter. She hasn’t had much of it, mostly because I limit it like a prison warden. She lights up at my request.
“Of course. Go on up and rest, Hannah.”
I nod thanks and let my gaze flicker over Dustin, not wanting to fall any deeper into old memories and current worries. I’m nearly to the stairs when my mom stops me.
“Oh, and if Jorge is awake”—I cringe, eyes squeezed tight as I face the stairs—“Send him down for food. And tell him to stop sleeping on the floor. That’s antiquated and silly.”
I’m going to be sick.
“Okay,” I eek out in a defeated, whispered tone. I take the stairs two at a time and step over Jorge’s jumbled blankets, already empty, on my way to the bed. I can hear the shower running, which means he’s awake and has some great pancakes in his future. I doubt Dustin will stick around for bonding time.
These four days are bound to be the longest of my life. I think maybe heading back to Omaha after Thanksgiving dinner is a smart move. Coming home was a stupid idea. I don’t know why I thought I could handle it. I only hope the damage will be minimal.
4
“So you really had breakfast with Jorge this morning?” Tommy hasn’t shut up about my morning since I met him at the track two hours ago. I let it slip out, probably because I was flustered from the whole thing.
“I did. Yes, we’ve been over this. It’s not like I could turn down your mom’s breakfast. She cooked for me, dude. And Hannah went upstairs. I was already eating when the guy came down and joined me.”
Worst part? Fucker’s actually nice. Like, there isn’t a crooked bone in his body, and I don’t mean that in the bruised and battered sense. He’s the real deal, and he seems smart too. I get why Hannah’s attracted to him. He’s all the things I could never be. He was talking about some gallery opening or some shit, and I guess Hannah’s work is going to be shown. Her mom shut that conversation down, which pissed me off. Hannah and I have our problems, and believe me, they run deep as hell. But her mom has never shown support for her passion. The fact Hannah seems to be succeeding at it and her mom still refuses to give it the time and appreciation it deserves? That isn’t right.
“Good thing my dad went out fishing this morning. He cannot stand the guy. He constantly rips on the dude’s name, messing it up on purpose.” Tommy signals me to turn over the engine on the Supra. It fires up and Tommy holds a thumb up before I turn it off and yank out the key.
“Gasket crisis averted. I don’t think the burn-off messed anything up, other than that hose we replaced.” Tommy drops the hood and tosses me a towel. We wipe our hands clean and I move to the outdoor fridge to grab each of us a beer.
“I mean, it’s five o’clock somewhere, right?” he says as I toss it to him. It’s not quite eleven here. Maybe it’s a little early, but I’ve had a full damn day. I drove all night and barely slept.
“What do you think of him. Jorge?” Tommy and I haven’t had this conversation since we first discovered Hannah was living with the guy, and pregnant. To be fair, Tommy’s the one who found out and he couldn’t wait to tell me. He says he wanted someone to be pissed off about it with, but I think there’s a part of him that still hates I ever dated his sister, and this is his big “I told you so” moment.
“I mean, well, for starters, the dude is tall.” Tommy pops the cap from his beer on the edge of the workbench, and it fizzes from the top. He holds it to his lips, slurping up the spillage.
“Very astute observation. Astounding detective work, Thomas. He is, in fact, tall.” I roll my eyes and pull my key ring out to rip the cap off my beer. I gulp down a quarter of it and wish for a fast buzz that will kill the stress of my morning.
“Ha ha, very funny. I don’t know, man. What am I supposed to think of him? He knocked up my sister and they have a family together. Super awesome. Yay. I guess.” His lackluster tone is satisfying even if I can’t stand his words.
“So you’re cool with the guy?” I’m not being fair. It’s not as if Tommy has a choice. He never has when it comes to his sister. Hannah does what Hannah wants, and if she wants to be with some man-bun artsy dude who wears tan pants with leather flip flops, then so be it.
Tommy paces around the Supra, admiring what we’ve done to it. We gave it a new wrap—black with yellow stripes. I wanted to paint a bee on the back and write “Stings like a” above it, but I’m shit at art. Too bad I don’t know anyone I could ask—ha ha.
“Am I cool with him? I guess. As cool as I am about stopping at the store to pick up bread and milk. I’m . . . indifferent, I guess? I wish I could see my niece more because she seems cute, and I miss being close to my sister.”
“That’s my fault,” I insert.
“Nah, it’s just . . . what it is.” That’s the same answer Tommy always gives when I apologize for letting things get so far with Alex. We’ve been over this a dozen times, and even though he says he’s as responsible as I am, I know it’s bullshit. I was the one with the idea and the one blinded to the pitfalls. Tommy was trying to make it work for me. He’s the one who came up with the idea of turning Alex in. He wanted to do right. I wanted to get my way and bend the rules.
“She seem happy to you?” I squint at him, not sure what answer I want. All he does is shrug.
I can’t quit thinking about what I heard when Hannah ran into me this morning. The thought of her sleeping with that guy makes my blood boil. I’ve gotten by because I don’t really see her, and her family is disciplined about keeping our conversations Hannah-free. I dove into my work—into making this track something special and into perfecting my racing, even if I’m never allowed to fucking win.
“You know what you need? You need to get laid!” Tommy leaps up on one of the workbenches and grabs his crotch. It’s a ridiculous sight because he’s never been that guy. I mean, yeah, he’s never had a problem hooking up, and Bailey, for whatever reason, loves him something stupid. But loud and flashy sex god is not his brand. He’s more of a quiet, sneaks up on you kinda guy, even when he’s drunk.
“Well, Chelsea is coming by and we’re going out, so who knows.” I say it mostly to get him off my back. Chelsea Taylor is one of our reps, and yeah, she and I have fooled around and gotten a little crazy at Minder Binders during happy hour. I maybe dared her to show me her tits and she maybe shoved them in my face and I maybe didn’t mind all that much. But that shit? It’s temporary. She’s fresher off her breakup than I am.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Tommy shouts again, grabbing his crotch.
“What’s that?”
My beer bottle suctions from my lips as my eyes veer to my periphery and Tommy leaps down from his perch. I’d laugh if I weren’t dreading the next thirty seconds of conversation. Hannah could come check out the garage any day, and she picks now. Right now.
“Talking about our rep getting us a deal is all,” I say, shaking my head. I meet Tommy’s gaze and he spits out a laugh.
“Yeah, some deal. Real big deal,” he jokes.
I flip him off then apologize to his sister. That’s not how I want to handle this awkwardness between us, by bragging about hot chicks who are into me when we’re both drunk.
“I see. How very mature,” Hannah says. She holds her stare on me a little longer than she does her brother, and it makes me regret those thoughts I just had. She’s making it damn hard to be the better person.
“It is. What’s up?” I clear my throat and set my beer
down as I stand and circle her.
“I’m gonna—” Tommy nods his head to the right, to our back offices, where I guess he’ll go play video games because he sure as shit isn’t going in there to work. He just wants to vacate this situation.
“Yeah, okay. Hannah, you here for a tour?” I raise a brow and busy myself putting my ratchet set back into the right slots. I hate that I don’t know how to talk to her anymore. It used to be so easy, but now it’s literally like dragging nails over shag carpet. I’m not sure whether I should be hostile or cold or curt or whatever the fuck acquaintances are who have a history like ours.
“My mom asked me to bring this over. Something about the sponsorship for the hike or whatever. I’ll drop it in the office and go. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She’s hurrying things now because I made her feel unwanted, and dammit, my chest burns with guilt.
“No, it’s fine. I got it. She needs me to sign some checks.”
Our fingertips barely touch on the exchange, something we both do on purpose. At least, I do. I’m always pushing boundaries, and I have a history of crossing them with this girl. I don’t know why I can’t stop. I guess I was hoping to feel nothing when our hands met. Instead, I felt everything.
“Right, well. I can wait and take it back if you want to sign real quick? Or . . . you probably have it handled. Again, sorry to interrupt.” She turns and marches back toward her car, which is probably due for a serious tune-up. I’m guessing that set of wheels has rolled a couple hundred thousand miles by now. Her fists are balled at her sides and her stride is clipped.
“Han!” She freezes the minute I call out her name. I exhale and close my eyes for a beat. “Wait.”
Burn: The Fuel Series Book 3 Page 3