by C Bradley
I start climbing the stairs, sighing in self-defeat. “I’ll follow you back now. Just let me get some clothes.” Gathering a bag of toiletries and a few changes of clothes, I make my way back downstairs, where Addison waits with a satisfied smirk. “Yeah, you made your point. No need to be smug.”
“I’m sorry, Hannah, but I needed you to see a different perspective. Anyway, I’ve been his person for so long, Nina and me, but he just looks at us blankly and keeps telling Nina she was right. She’s always right.” She drones on, as we walk to our vehicles. “I’ll drive you,” she offers and without thinking, I accept.
Setting my tumbler glass down on the bar, I grab the scotch decanter and remove the glass stopper to pour myself another double, as my eyes roam to the far-right wall of family photos. Grabbing my now half-full glass, I make my way over to the wall, coming to a halt and raising my glass to toast what seems to be the end of our happy family memories. The pictures are all random, and they range from family vacations, to extravagant holiday parties, but there’s one that grabs my attention. One photo of my parents who appear to be mid to late twenties.
My father’s body language in the picture gives off an obvious indication that he was proud of the beautiful woman on his arm. My mother. It looked as if my father had just cracked a joke because my mother’s face was that of pure joy and happiness, as told by her bright smile, and the evident laugh lines that frame the corner of her eyes. My parents were undeniably made for each other. They were each other’s foundation, and each other’s safe place. My mother’s smile reminds me of Hannah’s every time I look at her. It was so honest, yet so innocent all at the same time.
I was shattered to learn that Hannah had left without saying anything, after storming away. I feel like I’ve been frontline in the battlefield for her heart for months, only to become enemy number one in the blink of an eye. Her reaction to the news of my family’s business was like a slow sharp blade to the gut. I hadn’t thought about the effect it would have on her, mainly because she had worked her ass off and earned her last promotion prior to our dating. I would never take that away from her. I respect my girlfriend and the fact that she’s a woman in a position of power within a well-known company. That is a fucking turn on, regardless of the fact that my family owns the business.
A mixture of emotions floods my head and chest, making it difficult to catch my breath. Grief, heartache, resentment, rage, fear, and love. My parents are dead. My sister is stuck in her own bubble of grief, which involves old photos albums and an endless stream of family videos on the projector in the theater room. Interrupting her would mean a high heel being hocked directly at my head. My sister is a kind and gentleperson, until you really piss her off. Something I’ve done numerous times, during the 20 plus years growing up with her.
She left. Hannah left me. Just like everyone else has. I’m fucking alone, again.
Tossing back the rest of my glass, I head back to the bar only to find the scotch decanter empty.
Fuck, now the scotch is gone too. My life is a cruel fucking joke right now, and I’m far from amused.
Peering under the bar at the overstock, I spot a bottle of The Macallan, a 25-year-old Sherry Oak Scotch whiskey. It was my father’s favorite; he always said that scotch was made for men purely because of its smoky and harsh taste. Grabbing the bottle and my glass, I make my way over to the gray sectional couch that frames in the sitting area, completed only by the 70-inch flat screen mounted on the wall above the stone fireplace. I plop myself down, before pouring another glass of scotch. Setting the bottle down, I kick my feet up on the coffee table and polish off the rest of my glass.
A rush of warmth floods my veins, a soothing side effect of alcohol consumption or so I believed, until I heard her voice.
“Brody?” Hannah stands at the base of the staircase, scanning the room for proof of life.
My blood heats further. The warmth that fills my chest isn’t the alcohol. No, it’s the side effect that she has on me. I choke on a breath that burns through my lungs like a drag from a cigar.
She came back.
Hannah.
Grabbing the arm of the couch, I use it to pull myself to my feet, “I’m here baby. Maybe a little intoxicated,” pinching my thumb and pointer finger together to give proper measurement, but continue on, “but so happy to see you.”
My knees start to wobble. Whoa, I need to sit. Jesus, how much did I drink? Heavy alcohol consumption on a nearly empty stomach, smart move Brody.
“Brody, you’re drunk. How about you just take a seat?” She reasons, as she approaches the area where I’m standing.
“Hannah, please don’t leave me,” I beg. “Baby, you can’t leave me. Everyone else is gone.” Tears prick my eyes, as I fall to my knees. “Hannah... I...”
Cupping my face in her hands, she sighs again. “Brody, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here.”
Wrapping my arms around her waist, I press my cheek to her stomach. “Hannah, please don’t leave. Baby, I....” my voice trails off again, as she glances down, watching my actions cautiously.
“Hannah, I love you. Don’t let go.” My unbearably heavy chest lightens the moment the words leave my lips.
Her hands rake my hair, before she pulls me to my feet with little cooperation from me.
“Brody, I’m here. I’m not leaving, but no more scotch. We’ll talk more in the morning. Let’s get you some rest, okay?”
“No more scotch,” I nod in agreement, before releasing her.
Hannah does her best to help me to the couch. Once horizontal, I sprawl out, laying my head across her lap, after she sits down. My hands wrap around her thighs, as I peer up at her soft features. I let out a mumble, as my heavy eyelids start to flutter.
“M-Marry me, Hannah.”
My eyes squint open, as the fluorescent lighting fills the room.
“Hey, crazy kids. Breakfast is ready.” Nina’s low voice sounds through the intercom, on the wall from the top of the stairs.
Hannah stayed; she slept upright because I was splayed across her lap. It was as if she didn’t want to move or wake me. She came back. Once I sit up, the pounding in my head starts. Ugh, fuck. Now, I know why I don’t drink scotch often. My head is foggy, and filled with small glimpses of the events that took place last night. I try to piece everything together, as the images flash. The fight. Our first fight. It must not have ended terribly because she came back, right? At least, I hope that’s the case.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” I manage to smile, ignoring the incessant hammering inside of my skull.
“Morning,” she replies, before sliding from underneath my head to move off the sofa. “I could use some coffee; I think you could probably use the same.” Hannah’s responses are clipped and emotionless. Oh fuck, maybe things aren’t on the up and up.
I manage to lift myself from the couch and follow Hannah upstairs to the kitchen, where Nina has a full continental breakfast on display.
“Wow, you’ve outdone yourself, Nin. Everything looks great.” I muster, and she smiles in response.
“Hannah, the coffee mugs are here.” Nina pulls open a cabinet to the left of the stove. “All the fixings are already out because I’m three cups deep.” Her smile flashes bright, as she takes a sip from her Disney princess mug.
“Thank you, Nina. I tend to get a little murderous without coffee,” Hannah mentions, while pouring herself a fresh cup.
Taking my seat at the table, I grab a plate and hand one to Hannah, before I fill my plate with stuffed French toast, bacon, and sausage. Glancing over at Hannah, I ask, “Can I get you anything?”
She makes eye contact only to break it just as quickly, shaking her head no.
Fuck, I’m still in the doghouse.
“Sorry, guys,” Addison clears her throat, as she enters the kitchen with Micah hot on her heels. He has a scowl set so deep, it could kill. “Mr. Crabby Ass needs his coffee.”
I glance up and see the smile teasing Addison’
s lips, as Micah stares down at my hungover, drunk spouting intimacies, and grieving boyfriend. The anger radiating from Micah sets my nerves on edge.
“Micah, you and I need a word.” I stand abruptly, causing everyone’s eyes to fall onto my every movement. “Now, Micah Christopher, right now!” I fist the bottom edge of his t-shirt and pull him backwards out of the room and down the hall.
“Jesus Christ, Hannah!” He growls once I move us to a safe distance from the eagerly listening ears in the next room.
“You do not come into the Lucas’ house with a murderous haze directed at someone who has done not one damn thing to you. I’m not yours, Micah, and I’m sure not yours to protect. You want to be my friend, then be my friend. You wait for me to need your intervention. You hold me when I cry, and you take me for drinks if this deteriorates, but you do not get to sabotage my happiness.” I bellow, while staring into his icy blue glare.
“This is your happiness?” He scoffs, and movement catches my attention, as he continues. “You look like someone just killed your first damn puppy, and most of all, you look haunted. So, you tell me what happened after you came back here last night. The black under your eyes is a lovely shade of happiness. Be real with me, Hannah.”
The second Micah grips my shoulder, a move he has done for years as a way to ground us both in the moment, Brody moves like a cheetah who’s spotted its prey. Micah’s eyes bulge the second Brody’s hand connects with the back of his neck.
“Brody,” I gasp in shock, just as Micah shouts, “What the fuck!”
“Take your fucking hands off her, now!” Brody growls, physically reddening, as Micah begins to back up from me, dropping his hand.
“Brody, you need to take a breath and back the fuck off.”
“Brody!” Addison shouts, as she does what appears to be the same maneuver Micah was just doing for me. Grounding him. His normally clear gray eyes are hard and unfocused, bouncing from Micah to me and back.
“Brody! Brody, look at me.” I plead. “Please, look at me.” His eyes finally focus, and I continue, “Breathe.” I step around Micah and stand directly in front of the man who proclaimed his love and desire to marry me in a drunken stupor. “There you are, breathe. He wasn’t hurting me. Micah wasn’t hurting me, babe.”
“No one can lay their hands on you, and it be okay. No one!” His words come out both choppy and hushed.
“It’s okay. Let’s go back into the dining room. Nina made everyone breakfast. Come on, let’s go.” I press my hand into Brody’s chest, softly pushing him backwards.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispers, while grasping my hand, moving it over his heart. “I know what I said last night, and I meant it. I love you, Hannah, and the thought of someone hurting you.” He stops, shaking his head, “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”
“Hey, I’m here, aren’t I? But you need to calm down.” I try to reassure him, but dammit if I’m not mentally thrown six ways to Sunday.
“Babe. Hey, wake up. Come on, Han. Wake up for me.”
“Go away,” I grumble, swatting Brody’s hand away. “I slept upright all night, while you slept off your drunken stupor. I’m tired, so go away.”
“Hannah, I apologized, and now, I’m apologizing again. This time with food, though.”
I crack my eyes open at the word food. I love food. “Fine, I’m moving,” I yawn. “What’s for lunch?”
Brody chuckles and looks from me to the window, “It’s actually dinner. You’ve been sleeping most of the day. My assumption is that the stress took you out.”
“Probably,” I confirm, feeling my lips twitch upwards into a smile. “How’re you feeling?”
“Hmm, I’m better than I was. I really am sorry, Hannah Grace. I’m going to make up for this.” He assures me.
“Okay, you do that, after we eat.” Pushing up off the mattress, I head towards the staircase making my way to the kitchen. “So, what’s for dinner?”
“Nina made lemon parmesan chicken with roasted potatoes and fresh from the garden green beans.”
“Wait, I thought she didn’t cook, but this morning she’d made breakfast and now this?” I ask confused.
“Nina is actually a great chef and loves to cook, she was just...”
“Grieving,” I answer for him, and he nods in confirmation.
We sit and eat in silence, him watching me, as I devour the serving of chicken and veggies. Seriously, Nina is an amazing chef. After my last bite, I look over to Brody nervously biting his thumbnail.
“Say it,” I blurt out, unable to take the quiet anxiousness.
“You know you being the HR Director and the continual progression doesn’t change just because my parents passed, and Nina and I take complete ownership. You have to know this.”
“Babe,” I sigh. “Things will change. Actually, they’ll have, too. I can’t fuck the boss.”
“Technically, okay yes, I’m going to be the boss, but it doesn’t change your past experience and dedication.” His assurance has me slightly confused again.
“Wait, how do you know about my past experiences and dedication to the company?”
“Nina and I spent the day going through everything in the company, including leadership employee files. I just need you to know that I’m not going to help you advance, but I’m not going to hold you back either.”
“Fuck a duck. You’ve got to be shitting me,” I laugh, as our eyes meet. Brody reaches out for my hand, tracing small circles along my palm. “This is fraternization, and I’m fucking the boss!” I cry out.
He visibly tries to hold back his laughter, but fails, epically. “Yes, you have and hopefully will continue to do so and quite well might I add.”
“Unbelievable,” I scoff incredulously.
“I’ll show you unbelievable.” He pulls me up and tugs on my hand to trail after him. A quick ascension of the stairs places us outside the room we’d just come from before dinner.
His hands slip beneath my top, and my eyes close on contact. My head lolls back, as his hands knead my swollen breasts, before dropping them down to my ass, promptly lifting me into the air and spinning me around, pinning me against the now closed door.
“Brody, this isn’t going to solve anything.” I murmur against his ministrations. “Brody, please!” I cry out, giving into the feeling that’s taken over the logical part of my brain. I’ll deal with the fall out later.
“Please what, baby?” A wicked grin touches his lips, before he presses his clothes covered, bulbous cock against my wanton sex. I arch to find relief only for him to pull away slightly.
His pace increases, from a desire to explore, to a need to devour, as he slowly lowers me to the ground and divests us of our clothing, as we cross the threshold to the bedroom. Once our bodies are free of anything separating us, he picks me up again, as if cherishing the moment, and then he carries me to the bed. Our touching becomes frantic again, lips pressing against flushed skin, and fingertips leaving goose flesh in their wake.
I spread my thighs, providing room for him to settle in, and bending my knees to expose more of myself to him. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” his voice tickles my ear, as he runs his fingers back and forth through my slickness, pausing to apply pressure to my clit. Slowly he takes me, inch by inch, until he’s seated fully inside me.
My pulse increases, and my breaths turn into pants, as our slow thrusts turn deeper, harder, and more frenzied. “Oh fuck, Brody!” I groan, as I clench his cock deep inside me, as he continues to piston in and out of my quaking heat, until he too finds his release.
“Jesus, Hannah.” He whisper-shouts into the crook of my neck, as he holds me, making me feel wanted and needed.
“I knew there was a reason I liked you beyond logical reason,” I purr against his mouth, a smile teasing my lips.
Pressing his forehead against mine, he continues to pepper kisses between my words. “Like me?” He questions with a smirk.
“L
ove,” he flashes a smile so bright, it momentarily knocks the air from my lungs.
“Love,” I agree, before taking his mouth again.
Tomorrow, I return to work, after my two-week hiatus due to my parents passing. Things at JLC will certainly be different. As a last-minute decision, we’re hosting a dinner get together at my parent’s estate to thank the people we’ve become the closest to during this difficult time. Our new make shift family.
I glance up, as Addison comes strolling out of the French doors, and Micah following shortly behind with a blue cooler in hand.
“Hey, man. How about a little one-on-one for a friendly wager?” I holler at Micah from across the freshly cut lawn, that I perfected just a few hours prior.
“Game on. Ready to lose?” He says, shouting as he approaches, then he removes his tank and turns his hat backwards.
“First to three points wins,” I challenge him, before picking up the basketball and bouncing towards him.
Taking a step back, I pull my t-shirt over my head, before discarding it along the side of the driveway, along with my expensive sunglasses. A wide grin hits my lips, when Hannah let’s out an obnoxiously loud catcall.
“Hey, no distractions from the peanut gallery!” I point at her and tsk.
“Can I be your water girl?” She teases, as her and Addison giggle in unison.
“This is an unfair advantage. You played ball in high school Brody Lucas!” Addison shouts.
“No worries, babe. I’ve played ball once or twice. I’m not afraid of a little friendly competition.” Micah assures Addison, his undertone exudes cockiness and confidence. I’m going to enjoy humiliating the fuck out of Hannah’s oversized gorilla of a best friend with an overbearing nature.
He takes the ball to the foul line, making eye contact, before he charges towards the hoop behind me. He dribbles, as he nears then zooms past me, sinking a layup, giving him the first two points on the imaginary scoreboard.