by Codi Gary
Hannah carried the bag of food into the kitchen, while her dad headed back to the living room. She noticed the slump of his shoulders and the hitch in his step, concern tightening her chest. Her parents had been in their late thirties, early forties when they’d adopted her, and they were getting on in years. After her dad’s bout with prostate cancer last year, Hannah was afraid they wouldn’t tell her if they were really sick until they had to. They tended to still treat her like she was twelve instead of a twenty-four-year-old adult.
“Hey, Mom,” she called.
Her mom was in front of the dishwasher, putting away dishes as she hummed along to Sam Hunt’s “House Party.”
“Hi, baby!” Her mom actually shimmied over before hugging Hannah, which she thought was a little weird.
“You’re in a good mood. I thought you hated the way new country sounded?”
“I just wanted something with a beat. It’s hard to get motivated to put away the dishes anymore. Most of the time, I don’t even want to wash them. Just want to chuck them and buy new ones.”
Hannah pulled back from her mom’s embrace, more than a little surprised. “You do?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Her mom went back to putting plates in the cupboard, Uncle Miggons sitting at her feet, watching her intently. “You know, I was thinking maybe for our anniversary this year, I’d drag your father on one of those senior cruises. What do you think?”
Hannah studied her mother. Her parents had never stepped foot on a boat to her knowledge or had any interest in group activities. And she’d never complained or put off housework before.
“Well?” her mother prodded when she hesitated.
I think you’re an alien who’s taken over my mother’s body.
“Pretty sure Dad will hate the idea. You know how he feels about forced socialization.”
Her mom sighed loudly, pushing her glasses up with her wrist. “You’re probably right. Maybe we’ll do a trip to Tahoe, just the two of us. He does like the area. And a good buffet.”
There was definitely something weird going on. “Mom, is there a reason for the flurry of activity and vacation planning?”
“Well, I was just thinking that eventually it’s going to be harder for us to get around and do things, and then when you get married and have kids of your own, I’m going to want my grandbabies as much as possible. Right now we’re kidless and fancy-free; figured we’d get a little wild in our old age.”
The word wild was terrifying in association with her parents, but Hannah didn’t say so. Who was she to tell her mom that her dad barely tolerated all the senior functions she dragged him to now? There was no way he was going to be down with a string of vacations. It would take him too far away from his Fox News.
“Oh, I saw that young man who saved you on the news tonight, by the way. You never mentioned how good-looking he was.”
Hannah’s skin warmed as a blush crept up her neck and cheeks. “Because it’s not like that.” At least, she was pretty sure it wasn’t like that, especially after he’d taken off yesterday and hadn’t bothered coming in today. Hannah was convinced she’d probably scared the crap out of him. She hadn’t realized how much she’d gushed on the news until she’d seen the broadcast last night. Geez, could she have been a bigger idiot?
“Well, he was on the news talking about the program he works for and how it helps stray dogs and troubled youth, and I have to say, it takes a special kind of man to do that kind of job.”
As if I didn’t already know that.
“Yeah, I know he’s great.”
“Well, let’s get our plates and watch it. You know we always tape the five o’clock news, and when I realized who he was, I figured you’d want to see it.”
Hannah nearly groaned aloud in frustration. She’d spent last night tossing and turning, convincing herself to forget about Blake, but it seemed like the universe was mocking her with him.
They filled plates for themselves and her dad, and when they walked into the living room, her mom said, “Turn on the five o’clock news.”
“I’m watching this!” Her dad hated having his nightly TV regimen ruined.
“And Hannah hasn’t seen it yet, so stop being a grump and turn it on.”
Hannah hid her smile in her sweet and sour chicken. Since she could remember, her parents had always bickered with each other, but it was never serious. At least, she’d never seen them seriously fight.
“Fine.” He scrolled through the DVR and pressed play. “I’m getting a little tired of your harping, woman.”
“And I’m done with you thinking you’re king of the remote. Now shush up.”
Her dad continued to grumble, but Hannah tuned him out as the newscaster came onto the screen. Her hair was artfully styled and her pretty face and trim figure perfect in every way as she stood next to Blake, introducing him. He appeared relaxed, but she’d been around him often enough to know when his eyes wrinkled at the corner he was either smiling or tense.
And he definitely wasn’t smiling.
“Sergeant Kline, can you tell me what was going through your mind when you made the decision to go after the armed assailant with nothing but your combat skills?”
Blake cleared his throat and shifted from his left to right foot.
“To be honest, Tamera, I just knew I didn’t want him taking Hannah off the premises.”
“Hannah is the woman he held hostage. So, this was personal to you?”
Hannah saw Blake’s cheeks redden, and she was mesmerized by the sight.
Until he spoke again. “No, I would have done the same for anyone in danger, but it’s not like what I did was that special. If someone thought they could help, they would. I’m just an ordinary guy who was in the right place at the right time.”
“Oh, I don’t believe that’s true, Sergeant.” The reporter put her hand on Blake’s arm and practically purred at him. “In fact, I think the majority of our audience would agree that what you did was extraordinary.”
Hannah winced as Blake smiled at the reporter, albeit stiffly. “It was what I was trained for, ma’am. Nothing special about it.”
The story cut to the Alpha Dog Training Program, showing video of teenagers and dogs, along with instructors demonstrating techniques for the kids. The voice-over explained how Alpha Dog was coming up on a year of being open and how it had assisted nearly one hundred kids in finding employment and specialty programs after completing their sentence.
The last clip was of Blake again, telling the reporter, “The real heroes are the men and women who launched this program and are determined to keep it going so that other kids can benefit from it in other states. They are amazing.”
Hannah’s eyes teared up a little at how humble he was.
“He seems like such a nice young man,” her mom said.
“Now can I get back to my program?” her dad growled.
Hannah ignored the bickering, her mind on Blake and how she’d told herself to just forget about him.
But with a guy like Blake, that was easier said than done.
THAT NIGHT, BLAKE sat on his couch, scrolling through Realtor.com and absently munching on his Jack in the Box tacos. There were several listings that he’d printed out, but they would deplete everything he had from his parents’ estate. It was crazy how expensive houses were now.
Taking a break, he clicked on the other window he had opened and pressed play on the video of Hannah’s news interview. The reporter stood next to her, introducing her while Hannah smiled nervously, her cheeks pink.
“What was going through your mind when that man held a gun to you?”
Hannah’s hazel eyes flicked to the camera and back to the reporter. “I just thought that this was it. That he was going to kill me as soon as he got away and I was never going to see the people I loved again.”
Blake’s eyes pricked at her words. He’d watched the video a dozen times today, at work and at home, but it still made his gut clench with sadness. Jenny had probably thoug
ht about the people she loved in her final moments. About him.
Maybe Hannah thought of me, too.
Blake stood up from the table, the tacos he’d eaten sitting like rocks in his stomach. Grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard, he poured a glass over ice and downed it. He should not be thinking about Jenny and Hannah in the same span of thought, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
There was a knock on his door, and after pouring another glass, he walked over to answer.
On his porch stood Best, Sparks, Martinez, Dalton, and Slater Vincent.
“Was there a party I don’t know about?” Blake asked.
Best slapped a deck of cards against his chest as he passed. “We decided you needed a poker night.”
“You decided? What if I had plans?” Sparks walked by with two twelve packs of beer.
Dalton patted his cheek like he was an amusing child. “You never have plans, buddy. That’s why poker is at your place.”
Slater nodded at him, the only one who actually looked abashed at barging in on him. “Sorry, man. I got food, though.”
When Slater disappeared behind him with sacks of groceries, Martinez was the last one left to come inside.
“So, what did you bring?” Blake asked.
“This.”
Martinez sent a fist into his stomach.
Blake bent over with a wheeze, trying to catch his breath.
“The fuck was that for?” Blake rasped.
“For disrespecting my woman.”
Martinez stepped over the threshold, patting his back as if to say, Sorry, buddy, but you deserved it.
Finally, able to stand straight again, he shut the door. “Sorry about the thing with Eve this morning.”
Martinez nodded at him. “I know Evie can be a pushy pain in the ass, but she’s my pushy pain in the ass. Nobody talks to her the way you did without a serious ass kicking, so be grateful I love you, ’cause you got off light, my friend.”
“You’re right. I’ll apologize to Eve, too.”
An awkward silence stretched across the room.
Well, except for the crunching sounds Best was making while he scarfed down one of Blake’s tacos.
“We good then?” Best asked around a mouthful.
“Dude, you are an animal.” Sparks picked up Blake’s laptop to move it out of the way, and Blake knew the moment he noticed the video on his screen. He paused, his eyebrows hiking up his forehead.
“What’s the look for? Kline watching porn or something?” Dalton walked over to stand next to Sparks’s shoulder, and he made a clicking sound. “Ah, Miss Hannah York. She definitely thinks the sun rises and shines out of your ass.”
“Shut up. She was just grateful.” Blake took the laptop from Sparks and shut it with a snap.
“So, what, you’re watching her news clip for an ego boost?” Best had finished the taco and was currently licking his fingers, so he missed Blake’s murderous look.
“Dude, I didn’t come over here to cluck like a bunch of hens,” Vincent said gruffly. He set a bowl of salsa and chips on the table and sat in the chair, his dark eyes shooting about the room. “So either shut up and play or I’m going to help Kline kick your candy asses out.”
The whole room was shocked as hell, if their silence was any indication. Including Blake. He hadn’t worked with Vincent very long, only a couple of months, and most of what he knew about the guy came from Megan gushing over him. It was the most the burly black man had ever said at once.
“Easy, brother, we were just fucking with him.” Dalton sat next to Vincent and cracked his neck. “I’m ready to take all your asses to the cleaners anyway.”
Loud protests and shit talk erupted around the table as they sat down, and Kline glanced at Vincent, giving him a nod of thanks. Vincent returned the gesture and then took the beer Best handed him.
As the night wore on, Blake started to relax and just enjoy the time with his friends, guilt over Jenny and worry over Hannah pushed to the back of his mind as they played.
But when they all filed out near midnight, Blake looked around his empty apartment. The silence was deafening. Grabbing one more glass of whiskey and his laptop, he went to his bedroom. He already had a pretty good buzz from the two glasses earlier and several beers, but he wanted to fall asleep fast.
He got undressed and crawled under the sheets, trying to relax as he took a drink. He opened his laptop and tapped on the video.
“What about Sergeant Kline? What can you tell us about him?”
Blake studied Hannah’s face; the way her eyes lit up and her full lips parted into a sweet smile.
“Blake is amazing. He moved so fast. I never knew anyone could move like that, except for maybe Jet Li.”
He chuckled and caught himself.
“Do you know him personally? Is he a friend?”
“Yes, he’s my friend.” He saw something flash across her face, but it was gone too fast to identify. “But Blake is the type of guy who would risk his life for a stranger. He is just a good man. A hero.”
Blake shut off the video as the reporter started talking again and closed his laptop. Once he turned off his bedside lamp, he lay in the dark, his eyes closed. Hannah’s rich, husky voice played through his head, and he found himself reaching for his cock, stroking it.
Oh, Blake.
Hannah’s mouth, her eyes, and the mass of hair he wanted to stroke teased him as he got close.
Then, it was a different face. Jenny’s. Her wide blue eyes filled with terror and her mouth open, calling to him.
Blake threw off the covers and sat on the side of the bed, his head in his hands. He was breathing so hard he was trembling, tears sliding from between his closed eyelids.
God, what the fuck? He could watch porn or think about bendy Eliza Dushku in the shower, but one mild fantasy about Hannah, and Jenny crops up.
Blake finished off his whiskey and crawled back into bed, determined not to think of Hannah or Jenny anymore.
But just as he slipped off to sleep, he replayed the last part of the interview in his mind.
“He is just a good guy. A hero.”
God, he wanted that to be true.
Chapter Eight
TWO DAYS LATER, Hannah was doing her grocery shopping while trying to carry on a phone conversation with her mom. As she reached out to grab a bag for her lettuce, a woman next to her gave her a foul look, as if being on the phone was somehow disturbing her.
“No, Mom, I don’t think Good Day Sacramento is going to want to interview me.”
“And why not? You went through a traumatic experience, and I bet they would want to hear all about it.”
Hannah groaned aloud. Ever since she’d seen Blake being interviewed, her mom had gotten a burr up her butt about Hannah telling her story in detail.
“Because I’m not that interesting.”
“That’s a load of bull, Hannah Banana. You just don’t see yourself the way I do.”
Hannah rolled her eyes, silently agreeing with her. Her mom was constantly telling Hannah everything she could do with her life; crazy, far-fetched dreams that Hannah had no desire to pursue. Like auditioning for American Idol or The Bachelor. Hannah just wanted to get a full-time teaching position and maybe someday submit her books for publication. Not parade around in front of TV cameras and have what little self-confidence she had shredded for entertainment purposes.
Maybe she should be a bit disturbed that her mother actually enjoyed shows like that.
“If they wanted to talk to anyone again, Mom, it would be Blake.” Cranky lady was pushing her cart away, still shooting shade Hannah’s way, and she was tempted to make a face right back, but she refrained. “He was the real hero.”
“Yes, he is! Have you seen him since?”
“No, he hasn’t been in.” Hannah tried to keep the disappointment from her tone, knowing her mom would latch onto it like a boa constrictor.
Guess he didn’t want to deal with my hero worship anymore
.
“Well, when you see him, tell him I want to have him over for dinner some night to thank him for saving my baby.”
“Mom . . . ” Hannah started through gritted teeth.
“Oh, sweetie, I have to go! We’re heading over to Linus and Mary Pat’s to play bridge.”
Hannah almost released a depressed sigh. It was really sad when her parents had better social lives than she did.
As if sensing her train of thought, her mother asked, “By the way, what are your plans for the evening?”
Hannah grabbed a couple limes and stuffed them in a bag before answering. “Not sure yet.”
“Well, whatever you do, be careful. Your father and I were watching ID network the other night, and there was this horrible story about a girl who got separated from her friends, and this man kidnapped her, raped her, and cut off her—”
“Okay, thanks, but that’s enough of that. Seriously, you guys need to stop watching those shows or at least stop telling me about it.”
“I’m only saying, you’re a young woman living alone, and I worry.”
Hannah sighed. “You have nothing to worry about, really. What happened this week was an anomaly. I was just out back when he walked up. That’s it. I can’t live in a bubble.”
“I know, sweetie, but I’m your mom. It’s my job to care.”
And Hannah was really glad for that.
“I know, and I love you for it.”
“I love you, too, Hannah Banana. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Night, Mom. Tell Dad I said hi.”
“I will. Bye.”
Hannah made sure the call ended and slipped the phone into her purse. Retrieving the shopping list she’d made and a pen from inside, she started checking off what she’d already grabbed. She’d planned on making a chicken salad recipe she’d seen on Facebook earlier in the week, but a salad just didn’t sound as good as a plate of mile-high beefy nachos.
Of course, if she ever wanted to squeeze back into her size fourteen jeans again, she needed to change something. She’d thought about joining a gym, but between waitressing at Dale’s Diner and substitute teaching, it was hard to justify spending fifty bucks a month for something she might make it to twice a week. Walking with a friend was out, too, since most of them were just as busy as Hannah, if not more so.