One More Time_A Second Chance Romance

by Rye Hart

  Riigght, some small irritating voice in the back of my mind mocked me. No jealousy here, nope. Not at all.

  His dark eyes met mine, and I felt my insides begin to soften. I knew deep down that I put up this big, bad attitude with him to prevent myself from feeling anything for him. I kept high, thick walls around him because I knew that if I admitted to my feelings, I couldn't trust myself to be around him. And God forbid we did something stupid. Not to mention that he was my stepbrother and what we did years ago had been stupid and wrong on so many levels.

  It was a situation that still tormented me in a thousand different ways.

  Without realizing what I was doing until I did it, I found myself reaching out. I took his hand in mine. I cringed inwardly, feeling my hardened exterior cracking. Already. So early in the day. I squeezed his hand and he smiled, that cocky, crooked grin that used to get my panties soaking wet. Couldn't deny it still had an effect on me, but I pushed all of the inappropriate and dirty thoughts out of my head. It was a Herculean effort, but I managed by reminding myself that there was a child in the next room, after all.

  His child.

  “Hannah, I'm sorry –” he started to say.

  He stopped just as quickly as he'd started, however. My stepbrother rarely said he was sorry for anything.

  “It's okay. You fucked up,” I said, assuming he was apologizing for having a baby dropped on him. “All you can do is make sure you stop screwing up. Be there for your daughter, Eli.”

  “That's not what I was apologizing for,” he said under his breath. “But yeah, you're right. Can't do anything about the past, can we?”

  His words hung in the air between us, and I found it hard to breathe.

  “The past is the past, Eli,” I said at last, looking down at the wood grain of the table. “We can only move forward.”

  “I'd really like to move forward, Hannah,” he said. “Especially now that you're back in town –”

  “Forward doesn't mean together, Eli,” I said, my throat tightening. “I'm your stepsister, nothing more. We're family and I care about you like I would anyone else in my family, but that's it. That's all it can be.”

  I was lying through my teeth and I knew it. It wasn't for Eli's benefit though. It was for mine. I couldn't allow myself to admit that I still cared for him, that I still found him so incredibly sexy and that he was the only man who'd ever made me come during sex. Even after all these years, he was the only partner I'd ever truly enjoyed making love with – and yet, I knew it was wrong.

  He was my stepbrother. That was bad enough. Even more than that though, I knew he was bad for me in so many ways.

  He was selfish, arrogant, and always put himself first – all things that didn't exactly lend themselves to a happy relationship. Our relationship back in the day had been wild and crazy. I knew, even back then, that it could have torn our family apart. Not that it stopped us.

  I knew though, that it still could destroy our family if I didn't put a stop to things. Didn't keep myself in check. I didn't want to lose Eli when things inevitably went south, so it was best for everybody if I kept things at arm’s reach. If I thought of him as I would any other family member. Nothing more.

  Eli slumped in the chair, leaning back with his arms crossed in front of him. His face was blank as he stared at me, though the air about him was pouty. Petulant.

  “I work a twelve-hour shift, but before I head into work, I'll pick up some more diapers, formula, everything you'll need for the night,” I said. “But you're going to have to figure these things out on your own eventually. I just don't have the time to take you shopping and teach you all of it today.”

  “Thanks,” he said softly. “I really do appreciate it.”

  Chapter Five

  Elijah

  “You're one lucky bastard,” Chuck said, shaking his head. “She wouldn't have done that for just anyone, you know. But then, you're Aubrey Soloman's little boy. I keep forgetting.”

  I couldn't argue with that. My mom and Diane, the owner's wife, had been close, it was probably the only reason she agreed to watch the munchkin, so I could work.

  “I wouldn't make a habit outta it though,” Chuck said.

  “Don't plan on it,” I said, filling up a mug of beer for a man with face tattoos.

  The bar wasn't the best place for a child, even if she was tucked away in the back in a baby carrier Hannah had picked up for us. Yeah, I was lucky alright. For having fucked up so royally, I was lucky to have people around me who helped out. People like Diane. People like Hannah.

  The doors of The Pig's Ear opened up and a group of guys strode in. The bar fell quiet almost instantly as Titus Cain walked up to the bar, with five of his guys standing behind him like bodyguards. Probably a good thing he brought back up in a place like this, considering how deep it was behind enemy lines.

  Titus wasn't much older than myself, but his face was rougher. He looked as if he'd lived a hard life. Deep lines like trenches cut across his forehead, a scar ran along his cheek from the corner of his right eye down to his jaw. Eyes as black as midnight stared back at through a mess of raven black hair.

  He sat down at the bar, his men remained standing behind him. All of them were looking at me.

  “What brings you guys in tonight?” I asked, side-eyeing Chuck to see what he was going to do.

  It wasn't often that the Yora Widows made a stop into our place. Their usual territory was over on the east side of town and they usually kept to themselves. The Widows had their own bar, their own set of rules – one of which was to never enter into The Pig's Ear unless they were looking for a fight.

  The guy with the face tattoos at the end of the bar stood up and walked over, sitting down next to Titus and studied him, without saying a word. He didn't have to. The look he gave him was threat enough. It said it all – leave now, or you'll have a shitload of trouble on your hands.

  It had been a long ass time since we'd had a turf war between the two motorcycle gangs in the area. Ever since Roy took over, his group grew stronger and larger, they dominated Yora and the surrounding counties. Kept things in check. Titus, however, was the new president of the Widows and had already made some waves around town. Everything he did made it seem like he was looking to cause trouble.

  He just so happened to bring that trouble here, into my bar, and I wasn't about to have it. Titus glared at Claw for a long moment before he finally spoke, calling me by my given name.

  “Elijah,” he said. “I was hoping we could talk.”

  “It's Eli,” I said.

  Only family could get away with calling me Elijah, and even they rarely did. Hannah only brought out my full name when she was really pissed at me. Which was to say she tended to call me Elijah a lot.

  “I don't have anything to talk about,” I said. “I don't get involved in club business.”

  “I was hoping you might want to join us,” Titus said.

  I couldn't help it, I wasn't able to stop the laugh that came bursting out of my throat. As I chuckled, Titus' face darkened, and I could see him making an effort to keep his temper in check.

  “Me?” I asked. “You want me to join the Widows?”

  Titus nodded. “We believe you'd be an asset to our club.”

  I looked at Claw, who was cracking his knuckles. If I didn't get these guys out of there soon, there'd be hell to pay. Other bikers were lining up around us, watching. Listening carefully. Every man stood with their fists clenched and their bodies tensed – just waiting for the right moment.

  “I won't even join my stepdad's club,” I said. “Why the fuck do you think I'd join yours?”

  “Because we want the same thing, you and me,” Titus said.

  “How the hell do you know what I want?”

  “We want an end to the drugs and violence that plagues our town,” Titus said.

  Claw stood up and hovered over Titus, who wasn't really a tall or very large man, but I knew he could handle himself. We'd gone to high scho
ol together, once upon a time, and even played on the same football team. Most people underestimated Titus – formerly known as Tim. But, what kind of biker name is Tim? Titus or Tim though, those who underestimated the guy usually got their ass handed to him.

  I scoffed at his proposal and leaned down onto the bar. “You want to end the violence, yet you waltz in here and proposition the stepson of the Roy Ross?” I asked. “Do you understand why I find your proposition so hard to believe?”

  “We both know you despise your stepfather,” he said.

  “No shit, but I don't intend to become his enemy either.”

  “You chicken?” Titus asked, his eyes twinkling with humor.

  “Not at all,” I shrugged. “I just don't see the point.”

  That, and I cared about Hannah. I put up with her dad's shit for her, and only for her. I could have kicked Roy's ass, or worse, ages ago but she loved her dad – and in his own warped way, I guess that they loved her too. Who was I to break up a happy family?

  “Well, if you change your mind...”

  Titus passed me a slip of paper. At first, I didn't take it, but he sat there, waiting and watching me. The longer those guys stayed, the more likely there'd be violence. I had a little girl in the back room, and if guns were drawn – well, it wasn't just the bar I had to worry about anymore these days. I took the paper and slipped it into my jean pocket.

  As soon as I did, Titus stood up and his guys followed. Claw walked across the bar and stood in their way. Titus stopped, and the two men stared each other down for a long time. Titus was grinning from ear-to-ear.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked.

  “Yeah, like six of em,” Claw said. “Don't much like problems in my bar.”

  One of Titus's men stepped up, facing off with the other man. But, Titus reached out with his arm and stopped his man from getting any closer to the enemy.

  “We were just leaving,” Titus said. “If you'd get the hell out of the way, that is.”

  “You shouldn't have been here in the first place,” Claw said.

  Chuck called out, “Claw – Roy wouldn't want you causing a scene in here now, would he?”

  The man looked over at Chuck then back to Titus before falling back, letting the Widows pass. Everyone watched as the group left the bar, and as soon as they were gone, conversations picked back up and the air immediately felt lighter. It was like we'd been bracing for a hurricane that had just barely missed us.

  “That was close,” I grumbled to Chuck.

  “Too close,” he said, eyeing me carefully. He motioned toward my pocket. “What was that about?”

  “Hell, if I know,” I said.

  I pulled the paper from my pocket and read it. All it said was, If you want to stop the crime in Yora, call me, followed by a phone number.

  “Looks like you're being recruited,” Chuck said. “Careful which side you pick, son. Would hate for you to end up like your mama.”

  I crumpled the slip of paper and went to throw it away but remembered my mother and the way she'd died – a drug overdose of heroin and other opiates. For years, I'd wondered if it was really an overdose or if there was something more to the story. My mom was no angel toward the end of her life there, but she also didn't shoot up. That much I knew. People told me I had to be wrong, that I couldn't face the truth. Maybe they were right.

  Still, the image of her lifeless body, the needle sticking straight out of her arm, stuck with me and I put the crumpled piece of paper back in my pocket. Just in case.

  Chapter Six

  Hannah

  I'd barely set foot into the ER when I heard someone calling my name already. I twirled around to see one of the other RNs on the floor – Sarah – yelling for me from down the hall.

  “Code Blue room five,” she called out to me.

  My heart stopped. Already? Geez. Way to start the night. I hurried down to meet her and she filled me in on the details as we hurried along the corridor and finally turned the corner.

  “Female, mid-twenties. Overdose,” she said.

  We entered the room and I felt like I'd been punched in the gut and the air driven from my lungs. I recognized the woman lying on the bed in front of me.

  “Jesus,” I whispered to myself.

  It was Shawna, and the doctors and nurses had been working on her for some time. Her brown hair looked mousy and thin around her face. Her lips were already blue, and the doctor called out her time of death as Sarah and I entered.

  There was nothing anyone could do for her now. Not even me.

  “What’s wrong?” Sarah asked me. “Do you know her?”

  “No, not really. Just met her the other night,” I said, looking into her lifeless brown eyes as they stared up at the ceiling.

  Sarah patted me on the back, and motioned for me to follow her out. “Do you know her name? Anything? She came in with no ID, nothing,” she said. “We're trying to find her next of kin but are coming up blank here.”

  “I can ask my stepbrother,” I said. “He knew her.”

  I was numb. It wasn't the first death I'd witnessed, but it was the first death of someone I'd known prior to their admission into the ER. Sure, I'd been to funerals, known people to die. Eli's mom. Grandparents. An aunt who had lung cancer and passed away when I was in college. Those were different because the person hadn't died on my watch.

  Not that I had been on the clock long enough to do anything about it, but the reason I became a nurse was, so I didn't have to stand around helplessly as someone I knew struggled to survive. I could do something about it. I could save them.

  Yet, I couldn't save little Aubree's mother. I walked over to the nurse's station and two of the CNA's were talking quietly between themselves.

  “Another one? How many does that make this month alone?” Linda said.

  I answered for her friend, “It's the fifth overdose death this month. That's not counting the people who were almost dead on arrival, but managed to pull through, of course.”

  Linda nodded. “Fifth this month and it's not even the fifteenth,” she said. “Geez, I remember when this town was shocked when we were seeing one overdose every six months.”

  Since I'd gotten into Yora, the amount of drug addicts who'd come through that door had surprised me. Not only that, but the gunshot victims and others brutalized by violent crime. While I hadn't grown up there, it had always seemed like a safe, small town away from the crime of other California cities like Los Angeles and even San Francisco.

  Yora was farther north, almost on the Oregon border, and usually had more problems with weed than meth or heroin. That was something that seemed to be changing lately, though.

  “Earth to Hannah,” Sarah said, waving her hand in front of my face.

  I blinked and stared back at her blankly, feeling like I'd just woken up from a nightmare. Except, it wasn't a nightmare, Shawna – Aubree's mother – was dead. Not even twenty-four hours after handing over her child, she was gone. Had Eli not taken Aubree in, what would have become of the little girl?

  I cringed inwardly and didn't want to think about it.

  Shawna had done one good thing prior to sticking that needle in her arm, at least. Had to give the woman the barest scrap of credit for that. As a mother, she knew she couldn't hack it. She probably already knew she was on death's door. At the end, she did right by her child. I couldn't fault her for that.

  “You okay?” Sarah asked, giving me a concerned look. “Listen, it's okay if you need to take a few minutes, but we need you, girlie. It's a Friday night in Yora – and the night is still young.”

  In other words, I had to pull myself together and get my head back in the game. Quickly.

  “Yeah, I'm fine. Do you mind if I call Eli and see what he knows about the Jane Doe?”

  “Go for it,” she said. “Take five and then back here, ready to get through another night.”

  I pulled out my cell phone and searched for somewhere private I could make a call, finally settling on
a bathroom. I locked myself in and took a deep breath, unsure of whether or not this was a conversation I should have over the phone.

  It was probably a talk better had in person, but we needed to contact Shawna's next of kin and figure out the next steps. She might have a mother or father out there, someone worried sick about their daughter. They deserved to find out as soon as possible, to say goodbye, and plan for her service.

  I dialed Eli's cell phone number and it went straight to voicemail. Shit. That's right. He had to work tonight. I thought he might have called in, but apparently not. I dialed the number for the bar and Chuck picked up.

  “Hey, is Eli available? It's Hannah,” I said, choking out the words.

  “Yeah, one sec,” he grumbled.

  There was no sort of Muzak or hold button, you could hear the rock music blaring in the background, bottles clinking together, and voices shouting at one another. I listened as Chuck called out for Eli and then a second later, my stepbrother was on the phone.

  “Hannah? Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I'm fine. It's just –”

  I closed my eyes and tried to get the image of Shawna's lifeless eyes, fixed in death and staring at nothing, out of my head. She'd looked so sad last night when she dropped Aubree off. She'd looked so beaten down and used up. Truthfully, she looked dead inside already. Not even twenty-four hours later and she was dead.

  “Shawna was brought in tonight, Eli,” I said. “She didn't make it.”

  “Oh God.”

  I heard him exclaim on the other end of the phone. I had no idea if he loved this woman at one time or what they had between them, but I knew it couldn't be easy to know she was dead. Especially since they shared a child.

  “I'm sorry I had to tell you like this,” I said, tears filling my eyes as I thought about Eli and Aubree, alone in this world now, “but, they don't have any ID or anything on her. We need to contact her next of kin. I was hoping you might –”

  “She had no one,” he said. “As far as I knew. Her parents are both dead – addicts themselves. The reason we got together in the first place was that she needed a place to stay. I can give you her full name, but that's about it. Her name is – err, was – Shawna Deerborn. She's from Portland, Oregon originally. Grew up that way. But that's all I really know.”