by Joelle Knox
Maybe, but it would be worth it. “I’m not worried about that.”
“You should be. I know I’m a mess, but I’m selfish, too. I want to cling to you.”
And if I want to let her? “Sadie does a thing on Sundays. She calls it brunch, but it seems like late breakfast to me. You want to go?”
That makes her look at me with something bordering on alarm. “With your family?”
“That’s what it’s for, yeah.”
“Sean…” She has that tone of voice, the one you use when you’re trying to let someone down easy.
“You don’t have to, I swear. I just thought I’d throw it out there.”
She swallows. “Would your family mind?”
If I considered it a possibility, I wouldn’t put her in that situation. “Nope.”
“Okay.” Her shoulders relax, and she smiles at me. “That would be nice, then. Thank you.”
“Ten thirty?”
“Where should I meet you?”
“I’ll text you Sadie’s address,” I promise. Her smile eases some of the tightness in my chest. “In case you want to flee early.”
“It’ll be nice,” she says again, opening the door. “I haven’t had a family breakfast since my grandmother died.”
I’m not surprised, and that’s probably the worst part. “Good night, Hannah.”
She sways closer, but in the next heartbeat she’s out of the car. She closes the door and leans down to speak through the open window. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I watch her walk up to the porch. The harsh yellow light glints off her hair as she unlocks the door, and then she’s gone, slipping away into the darkness.
I could hurt you.
It’s nothing less than the truth, but neither was my answer. I’m not worried about pain, not with the memory of her cries, of her body against mine, fresh in my mind.
11
»» hannah ««
Sean’s sister lives in a cute apartment complex down the road from the hospital. I pull up fifteen minutes early and park next to Sean’s familiar, beat-up truck, but I can’t get out of my car.
Nerves have settled in my stomach, and they’re nothing as gentle and poetic as butterflies. This is anxiety, sharp and unforgiving, the kind that usually sends me running to the nearest keg or open bottle. With my fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, I take slow, shallow breaths and try not to think about all the ways this could go wrong.
His family could hate me because of Cait. His family could hate me because of my parents. They could be perfectly ready to like me and end up hating me because I’m me, awkward, inadequate Hannah, crashing into Sean’s life with a selfish lack of concern for what’s best for him.
Gibb is the only one who sees it, and I’ve come between them somehow. Sean would never admit it, but I know it in my gut. Gibb isn’t blinded by the ghost of affection, and Sean won’t listen to his warnings.
It makes me sick. We barely scratched the surface of the truth last night, and it ripped Sean up. He’s a decent guy. A good man, with a strong sense of responsibility.
He deserves so much better than me.
And yet, here I am. Dressed in another cute sundress and decked out in funky jewelry I borrowed from Evie. It’s like a costume, the sheep’s clothing I use to hide the monster inside me. I should leave and text Sean an excuse before he comes down here and touches me and makes me forget again.
My phone beeps to announce a text—from Sean. Are you gonna sit out there all morning?
My heart hammers as I stare at the words, resisting the urge to look around wildly, like I’ll be able to find him watching me from a window. It’s too late to make an excuse now. That’s what I tell myself, because it’s a good rationalization. That’s what Caseys do best—let events spiral out of control until we can say, Well, now I don’t have any other options, and do what we wanted to do the whole time.
I’m nervous, I text back. It’s easy to tell Sean most of my truths. I don’t know how to do family things.
Just relax. And come upstairs.
It’s out of my hands. Inevitable. I tuck my phone away and push open the car door. I haven’t spotted Gibb’s truck yet, and I don’t know if that’s because he doesn’t count as family or because he’s avoiding it—and me—but I’m relieved. I don’t think I can face him like this, with the rawness of last night still fresh, all of those wounds still bleeding.
I gave Sean bits and pieces of the truth, careful words that lied by omission. To protect him, to keep his heart whole, and to spare him the guilt.
Another good rationalization.
When I reach the top of the steps, the door swings open, and Sadie beams at me. “Hi! You almost missed the bacon.”
She’s so welcoming, so warm. It’s disorienting, because even my grandmother was never affectionate. More so than my mother, certainly, but still politely restrained. Sadie looks like she’s two seconds from pulling me into a hug, and I think she probably would if I could stop staring at her like a forlorn deer caught in some pretty boisterous headlights.
“Hi,” I manage, shoving my guilt and confusion as far down as I can. I’m good at this, at faking it until I’m numb to the churning in my gut. “Thanks for inviting me. Or letting Sean invite me.”
“Oh, shut up. Come on.” She ushers me in. “This is the living room, and the washroom’s just down that hall on the right.” She waves in every direction as she leads me toward the noisy dining room. “Hannah’s here.”
She sails in, but I stop in the doorway, frozen in the face of complete and total chaos.
Sean has brothers. I always knew that, somewhere in the back of my mind, but they were older, long graduated by the time I made it to high school. They only lingered in the occasional legend or trophy—one of his brothers was a big football star, and the other went to Georgia Tech on a full scholarship.
They’re both seated at the long table, engaged in laughing conversation as they demolish a platter full of bacon. So is Sawyer, the firefighter I met last night, and Gibb’s brother Trey. Sean’s mother has to be the older woman at the far end of the table, the one who’s refilling her coffee cup as a man I don’t recognize waves his hands to emphasize some point in the story he’s telling her.
They’re all talking over one another, raising their voices to be heard or leaning close, trading jibes and jokes so fast I can’t process and can’t keep up.
And then Sean looks up at me and winks.
Sadie sails around the table and smacks one of her brothers on the shoulder. “You’re the whiz with the waffle iron, Grady.” She doesn’t wait to see if he gets up, just heads into the kitchen and starts cutting fruit on a large bamboo board.
The brother without the beard—Grady, I guess—unfolds himself from his chair and waves at me. “Come on, Hannah. I’m sure Sean would have pulled out a chair for you if he wasn’t fighting Trey to see who can eat a whole damn pig first.”
“Joe would win, no contest,” Sean says as he rises and beckons.
I sway on the threshold of this madhouse, paralyzed with a different sort of fear. I thought the worst possible scenario was rejection, but now I’m staring the truth in the face. Acceptance is what will break me. Acceptance into this laughing, loving family that I can never truly join, not honestly. Not forever.
Did Cait ever come to Sunday brunch? It would have seduced her just as surely, the promise of all the things we never had and desperately pretended we didn’t want. Is this what broke her in the end, even more than the loss of Sean?
I can almost see it. And I still want to belong here. I want it so much I take the first step, and then I’m throwing caution and reason to the wind, smiling as I cross the room to Sean.
He lays his hand at the small of my back, an almost unnoticeable gesture that feels like an announcement. A possessive one. “You know Trey and Sawyer. This is my brother, Joe, and my other brother, Grady—” he raises his voice, “—just went to make us some damn food!”
> Joe shakes his head mournfully. “He’s gonna burn yours.”
Sean only grins as he guides me toward the other end of the table. “This is Nick, Sadie’s boyfriend-slash-fiancé. And this is my mother. Mom, you remember Hannah.”
“I think I might have seen her once or twice.” She doesn’t stand, but she does hold out one weathered hand.
I take it, fighting back nerves. “Mrs. Whitlow.”
Her voice is gentle. “Call me Mary.”
I’m lost. I know it. I’m never coming back from this.
Grady pops out of the kitchen with another platter of bacon and drops it into the middle of the table. Joe immediately reaches for it, and Grady smacks his hand. “Hannah first, for fuck’s sake.”
“Grady.” Mary picks up her coffee, then frowns as she looks around. “Isn’t Gibb joining us today?”
“He’s busy with some stuff,” Trey answers, but he sneaks a pointed look at Sawyer.
Joe doesn’t settle for just a look. As I drop into the chair Sean holds out for me, Joe shakes his head. “I warned you, Sawyer.”
His answer is firm, resolute. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Evie, I belatedly realize. They’re talking about Sawyer and Evie—and implying that Sawyer is the reason Gibb’s avoiding brunch. So much for my Hannah-centric view of the world. The knot of anxiety in my gut loosens a little.
Which is when a second realization hits me, one that I can barely wrap my head around—they’re talking about Gibb having feelings for Evie.
Sadie clears her throat as she sets a plate of fruit on the table, and Sean launches into a colorful description of the race the night before.
It’s a distraction, plain and simple. It’s also fascinating, hearing about the race from his point of view. I can still remember watching Mason’s car slam into Sean’s, and the stab of terror that twisted quickly into exhilaration as Sean maintained control and shot toward the finish line.
That’s what last night feels like—me, smashing into Sean in all of the ways I’m the most screwed up. It should have sent him spinning out, but here he is, steering me back toward normal again.
Maybe he’s strong enough to survive me.
“You left a part out,” Grady notes as he comes back to the table with a pile of waffles and a smudge of flour on his cheek. “Your fight with Mason?”
Sean freezes. “I, uh…”
Sadie interjects. “Mason tried to start some crap on the track. It wasn’t a fight.”
“Yeah, Sean held his temper,” Joe confirms, giving Grady a serious shut the hell up look. “I don’t know if I would have, if it had been me.”
Trey glowers. “Mason’s a twa—” The word cuts off with a grunt as Sawyer elbows him hard in the side.
“Not worth our time,” Grady finishes, heading back to the kitchen. “How many more races in the season, Sean?”
“Just two.” His hand finds mine under the table. “It’ll be good to have a break.”
Two more weeks. I never planned to stay that long—I barely planned to stay this long—but now the thought of missing his final race makes my chest ache with loss. I want to watch him claim that last win. I want to celebrate it with him, help him burn off all that energy and adrenaline.
Two more weeks of his steady acceptance, and who knows how confident I might become? Enough to take what I couldn’t take last night—or something even wilder. I can conjure it in my imagination—Sean leaning against his car, his head tilted back, his lips parted, as I wrestle his belt open and sink to my knees.
I bet he’d steer me through that, too.
“Hannah?”
I start, my cheeks flushing, but Joe’s not looking at me like he has any idea what I’m thinking. He’s just holding out a fresh plate of waffles I didn’t notice Grady delivering, so I nudge one onto my plate and hope I don’t look too guilty. “Thanks.”
Trey doesn’t look nearly as oblivious. He squints at me as he holds up a ceramic pitcher. “Fruit or syrup or both?”
I have to be imagining the teasing note. But I’m definitely not imagining things as Sean’s leg bumps mine, and even the innocent brush of denim over my bare calf is capable of raising goose bumps.
No, it’s time to admit it. After last night, nothing will ever be innocent again.
My cheeks still warm, I hold out my plate for the syrup and try to focus on casually thanking Trey, and not on the fact that I can edge my foot just an inch or two to the right and rub my heel against Sean’s.
The conversation dies as people fill their plates, but then Mary cuts through the silence in a low, sad voice. “I was very sorry to hear about your parents, Hannah.”
My warm, fuzzy feelings fizzle. I’m better at feeling guilt, a damn expert by now. It sinks into my gut like a stone, killing my appetite when I think about my mother, alone in her hospital room while I eat waffles with this beautiful family I covet and don’t deserve.
“Thank you,” I say, stiff and automatic. It’s not enough, so I add an awkward, “It’s been hard.”
She nods with a soft noise that sounds like part assent, part comfort. “If you need anything, let me know.”
“I will.”
“Good.” She turns her attention to Joe. “Are you ready for school to start back?”
“Ready or not, practice is in full swing. Football,” he adds, smiling at me. “I coach over at the high school. Our first game’s in a few weeks. You should bring her, Sean.”
“Maybe.” Sean raises one eyebrow in question.
I’m dizzy from my emotions swinging back and forth. Hope. Heartache. Yearning. Saturdays at the races. Friday-night football games. Sunday brunches with people who joke and care. “That sounds fun.”
“Maybe Sawyer can bring his new girlfriend, too,” Trey mutters.
Sawyer groans. “Aw, come on…”
The end of the table dissolves into good-natured bickering. But I’m stuck on that word hanging there, that reckless, dangerous girlfriend that Trey dropped and no one contradicted.
Not even Sean.
Mary watches them squabble and laugh over the rim of her mug for a few moments, then tilts her head at me and rolls her eyes, as if to say you see what I have to put up with?
I hide my smile behind my own glass, but she doesn’t know how lucky she is. I want to put up with this every weekend, too. As part of this extended family, one of them, with the courage to tease and be teased in return, never wondering if a joke is really a carefully calculated insult.
I really, really want to be Sean’s girlfriend.
12
»» sean ««
When I get to the garage on Monday morning, all the work orders from the weekend are stacked neatly on my desk. Usually, I have to hunt them down, even dig them out of the wastebasket. But Gibb’s been extra careful this morning.
Which means he feels just as shitty about our fight as I do.
Truthfully, I already felt bad about it by the time I got home after dropping Hannah off Saturday night. I considered driving by his place, but figured he’d still be busy with Molly Johnson and her stacked friend. And it wasn’t until yesterday that I realized what a jerk-ass I’d really been.
I put on a pot of coffee and do paperwork until it finishes brewing, then pour two mugs and head out into the service area.
Gibb is organizing his tools, and I hand him one of the mugs. “Extra sugar.”
He accepts the coffee and takes a sip before meeting my eyes warily. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” I lean against a workbench and stare out the open bay doors. The sun is starting to climb overhead, burning off the last of the mist from the morning. “I’m sorry about the other night. I was out of line.”
Gibb waves the words away. “I had it coming.”
“No reason both of those can’t be true.”
He grins at that. “Guess so.”
“We were both jerks.” I shrug. “We missed you at Sadie’s yesterday.”
“I overs
lept.” We both know it’s a lie, and after a moment he shifts uncomfortably and looks away. “Whatever you’re thinking, get it out of your head. I’m not going on any more double dates.”
“Yeah, well. Don’t take this the wrong way, but hell no.” The worst part is that I didn’t know going out with Evie would be this awkward for him. “You could have told me.”
“It’s not like that. Evie and I were never gonna hook up.”
“All the more reason.” I turn to face him. “Sawyer didn’t bring her to brunch. And he won’t, not after yesterday, so you can come back anytime you want.”
Gibb’s silent for the longest time, staring past me out the bay doors. “Remember Katie Bradley?” he says finally.
The name evokes a vague memory. “That girl you went out with senior year?”
“Yeah.” He’s fidgeting with the coffee cup, his words coming slowly, like it’s a struggle to get them out at all. “Do you know why we split up?”
The whole thing happened right in the middle of another big blowup with Cait. From the little bit I can recall, Gibb and Katie drifted apart because she was headed off to college, and I tell him as much.
“That was part of it.” He shrugs. “But that was also the year my dad came by around Christmas.”
That I remember. He got arrested for driving with a suspended license and dragged Gibb and Trey through hell. “What did he do?” I ask, my stomach sinking.
“Stole the credit card her parents had given her for emergencies.”
“Oh, shit. What?”
Gibb takes another sip before setting his mug aside. “Her parents told her to stay the hell away from me. That’s what parents do. Did you forget who Evie’s parents are?”
I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. They may not own half the town, but it’s close. “Fuck that. We’re not kids anymore.”
“You can say that. Your mother doesn’t work for them.”
“Okay, I get it,” I tell him, though I don’t, not really. I don’t think you can if you’ve never been in that kind of situation, where your father steals from your friends and your mom’s job can depend on you. “But that thing with Katie wasn’t your fault. Just like it’s not Evie’s fault who her parents are.”