Swallowing back a sob, she set down her bag. “Hey, guys.” Taking a knee, she firmed her voice and said, “Aunt Hannah has to go.”
Lizzie immediately toddled over, giving her a big hug and sloppy kiss before turning back to the television. She was well versed with the routine, telling her daddy good-bye every day. The little sweetheart didn’t realize that this good-bye might be for good, and Hannah was immensely grateful for that. Innocence was kind that way.
As for Max, he approached her with a much more wary look in his eyes, and that look cut Hannah deep. It reminded her that this wasn’t her first time telling him good-bye. She’d already left him once, back when he was too young to realize what was happening. Now he was older and more aware. Over the last month and a half, she’d become his one constant on the road…and she was about to rip that one shred of stability out from beneath him.
Swooping him into her arms, she kissed his chocolate spikes. Damn, she loved this kid. She’d have given anything to be his mama one day. Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away. “You be good for Mary, okay?” she said, leaning back with a sad smile. “Take care of Lizzie, and make sure you get lots of sleeps. You want to grow tall like your daddy, right?”
Max nodded hesitantly, and over his head, Hannah saw her replacement watching with pity in her eyes. She swallowed down the bitterness rising in her throat and smiled at her favorite little boy. “I love you, monkey.”
He clasped his tiny arms around her neck again. “I wuvins you, Hannah.”
Yep, that did it.
A sob broke free, but thankfully, Mary jumped into action. She picked up Max, handed him a graham cracker, and quickly nodded toward the door, silently urging Hannah to make her escape. As childish as it was, she considered not listening simply out of spite, but in the end, she’d only be hurting herself.
Grabbing her bags, she gave the young woman who’d taken her place a forced smile. She gave a final look around the bus, memorizing every detail her gaze traced. The leather, the stainless steel, the crayons on the shelf. Then she rushed down the steps before she blubbered all over again. Out of the bus and straight to the idling cab that was waiting to take her to the airport.
Chapter Sixteen
Max’s tiny fist shot out in a dream, clocking Deacon in the jaw, and barely missed the Johnny Walker Red seated on his chest. Sunlight crept around the edges of the blackout curtain, hinting at morning, but he wouldn’t know. He hadn’t slept. It’d been a long, lonely night of staring at the bottle, never quite turning the cap, but the thought never being far. A smarter man would’ve put it away, knowing no comfort would come at the bottom. Deacon never claimed to be smart.
Hannah was gone.
When the show ended, Deacon hadn’t even bothered with a shower. He’d torn out of the arena like a bat out of hell, a sinking feeling in his gut and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He’d spent the entire concert stressing over what to say on the way to the airport, wondering if he should tell Hannah how much he wished things could be different, or how much he’d miss her.
In the end, the decision had been taken from him. When he’d arrived at the bus, he’d found Lizzie on the sofa, Max in Mary’s arms, and Hannah nowhere to be found.
He couldn’t even be mad about it. When that lie had slipped past his lips, telling her there was nothing for her here, he’d watched the light fade from her eyes. The hope, the love. He’d killed it. What twisted the knife deeper was knowing he’d hurt his son in the process.
Once everyone realized Hannah was gone, the girls had started crying. Max, watching them, asked when she was coming back. It had fallen on him to explain that she wasn’t. That Hannah loved him very much, but she’d had to go back home.
At that point, Sherry had excused herself to the bedroom. Tyler soon followed, taking Lizzie with him, and Arabella and Charlie had left for the other bus, suggesting Mary bunk with them for the night. That left Deacon and Max. Father and son. Together and alone. Missing the puzzle piece that completed them.
Hence, the Johnny Walker.
Alcohol would quiet the noise. It’d mute the screaming in his head, telling him to run after her, and that he’d made a giant mistake. But Deacon had been down that drunken road before, way earlier than most people, and it never solved any of his problems. Only magnified them.
By the age of fourteen, he’d made good friends with the liquor cabinet and had experimented with things a lot harder, too. It was why his mom had jumped on the life boat of Willow Creek. She’d claimed the house her daddy had left them would be their new start, but she hadn’t even waited a day before falling into old patterns. She’d gone on living and drinking the same way there as she’d done in Gastonia. But for Deacon, the move had brought a redheaded, nosy neighbor into his life who’d changed everything. Who meant everything.
He rubbed a circle over his aching chest.
A chirp went off at the foot of the bed, jolting him out of the land between asleep and awake. Deacon shot to an elbow and clamored for his phone, not wanting to startle Max but needing to hear Hannah’s voice. If she could only tell him that she was okay, that she was home and safe, he’d feel better. Not great, but at least he could stop worrying about her safety. But it wasn’t her name lighting up his screen.
It was her dad’s.
Deacon flinched. Palming the phone, he made sure Max was still asleep and then slid out of the bunk. Unease trickled down his spine. Bill called him on Sundays. You could set a clock by that man. Seeing his name pop up on a Friday, the morning after his daughter had left brokenhearted, was not a good omen.
Walking past the kitchenette, Deacon kept going until he reached the leather couch. He fell across it, fear making him hesitate over accept.
Was he calling to say good riddance?
Was this the moment he’d finally outstayed his welcome?
There was only one way to find out. “Hello?”
“Morning, son.” The familiar gruff voice and the word son had him releasing a heavy breath. “I won’t bother asking how you’re doing. If my daughter’s any indication, you’re in pain right now. Probably beating yourself up and staring down a bottle of Crown.”
“Johnny Walker, actually,” he murmured somewhat brokenly. “But I didn’t…I didn’t open it.”
“No, I wouldn’t suppose you would.” From the other side of the line, Deacon heard a chair creak, and he pictured Bill seated at his executive desk, feet planted firmly in front of him. “You learned your lesson about that poison years ago,” he said, his voice still warm despite the headaches Deacon had caused. “You also know there’s no answers to be found there.”
“No, sir.”
It felt like he was a teenager again, coming to Bill after he’d been suspended for fighting another one of the assholes who tried messing with Hannah. Bill had never judged him, he’d never played games. He shot it straight. Even when it was hard.
“But if it’s answers you want, son, I think I have some for you.”
Deacon narrowed his eyes and scooted until his head hit the cooled armrest. He propped it up, debating if he should ask, but Bill beat him to the punch. “If you’re finally ready to hear it.”
That sounded ominous. Curiosity and dread had his stomach swirling like he had cracked that seal. “All right. Hit me with it.”
“You pushed Hannah away before she could push you.”
Deacon was shaking his head before he’d even finished speaking. “No. I did what was best for her, Bill. She never would’ve left unless I forced her to. This isn’t where she needs to be.”
A soft sigh heaved across the line, and then his role model said, “You’re lying to yourself, kid.”
The words, spoken kindly, jarred just the same. After waiting a moment to let that sink in, Bill continued, “I don’t know everything that happened. Hannah has her secrets, and those she did share, well, they were in confidence. But my daughter’s hurting right now, and I know enough to know she’
s not the only one.”
The reprimand stung, but Deacon couldn’t blame the man for his honesty. Max had fallen asleep crying in his arms, after all, and he’d refused to sleep in his own bed last night; it only proved his point.
“From the way I hear it, you’re back to playing superhero,” Bill went on, his voice gaining strength despite the early hour. “Burning the candle at both ends, killing yourself in the process. But son, you’ve already proven yourself! Those guys are lucky to have you. You’re a talented musician, you work your ass off, and you have integrity. What is it going to take for you to wake up and realize how much you have to offer?”
He swallowed hard, fighting a wave of emotion. It was the same sort of thing Bill had been telling him for years, but what Deacon wanted to ask was what would it take for the Fishers to realize what a lost cause he truly was and kick him to the curb?
Aloud he said, “I’m still the new guy. I’ll slow down once I get my feet under me.”
Bill made a sound like he didn’t believe him, and when he didn’t say anything, Deacon had a sense the older man was giving him one of his signature looks through the phone.
The door at the end of the hall opened, and a few seconds later Tyler shuffled into the kitchen, headed straight for the coffee pot. Yawning, he scratched his bare shoulder and glanced around, doing a double-take when he spotted Deacon lying across the couch.
He gave him a grim smile and waved the phone, and Tyler ducked back into the shadows.
Bill wasn’t the only one disappointed in him.
“Listen, son, I won’t keep you. I imagine you have a hundred things to do and talking to an old man ain’t one of them. But Lois and I needed you to know that regardless of what happens or doesn’t happen with our little girl, you and Max are family. Nothing will ever change that.”
A knot lodged in Deacon’s throat and he fought to clear it. “Thank you, sir.”
“Admittedly, we hoped you’d become an official member one day by marrying Hannah,” the man added almost offhandedly, and Deacon erupted into a coughing fit.
“Excuse me?”
Bill chuckled. “Don’t sound so surprised. I couldn’t ask for a better man for my daughter. You’ve always been there for her, protecting her when I couldn’t. Somewhere along the way, you surpassed me as the hero in her life, and that’s a good thing. It’s what every father wants.”
A strange sensation flooded Deacon’s body, pricking his skin, and his heart took off at a gallop. Still, he shook his head. “No. Trust me, Hannah deserves better than me.”
“What a crock,” Bill muttered. “What she deserves is to be loved, cherished, and respected, and to be treated like a partner. That’s how Lois and I have seen your relationship since the first day you came to dinner.”
Deacon wanted to argue, but he remembered Hannah had said almost the same thing that night in the limo. That she wanted excitement and passion in her life, and to be seen as an equal. For some reason, she never believed that was how he saw her. Hannah was stronger, braver, and fiercer than she ever gave herself credit for. And she was so damn beautiful it hurt.
“She also deserves the man she’s loved half her life,” Bill added, and the candor from the same man who’d given Deacon a family and taught him what being a man even looked like had tears welling in his eyes. He hadn’t cried since he was twelve years old and his mom disappointed him for the very last time—but he was crying now.
Slowly, almost painfully, the wall he’d carefully built around his heart disintegrated, and Deacon sat up. Suddenly, he was out of breath, like he’d just run a marathon, and his hands and feet tingled.
“I miss her, Bill.” The words spilled from him as he stared out the window over the empty parking lot. His left arm tingled at his side, wanting to hold her. His heart started pounding, almost as if it planned on leaping from his chest.
As quickly as the euphoria rose, panic set in, along with the realization of just how badly he’d screwed up.
He’d shoved her out the door without even giving her a choice. He’d swooped in like he always did and made the decision for her—and it’d been the wrong one.
That wasn’t treating her like an equal. That was being a tyrant. Hannah was an incredible, intelligent woman who knew her own mind and had every right to make her own decisions. He’d just been so scared of history repeating itself that he’d ignored what was right in front of him.
Hannah wasn’t Krista, and Deacon sure as hell wasn’t his parents.
Yeah, he’d made mistakes. Plenty of them. But they’d always come from a place of love. He’d genuinely had Hannah’s best interest in mind when he’d pushed her away. If by some miracle she decided that this was where she wanted to be, even after his string of stupidity, then here was where he wanted her. Because he did see her as a partner, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life proving that. Lifting her up as much as she lifted him.
Her own father, a man who knew them both so well, believed he was good enough for Hannah. Who in the hell was Deacon to argue? If she forgave him, he’d make it his life’s mission to prove he was worthy of her. He’d do anything…because Hannah was his heart.
The revelation fell over him with a surprising amount of clarity.
“I’m in love with her,” he whispered aloud, tasting the words on his tongue and feeling the truth of them settle in his bones.
On the other end of the line, Bill laughed. “Well, son, I could’ve told you that.”
Chapter Seventeen
The new building had promise. Walking down the empty hallways and through the large classrooms, she could see the potential hidden beneath years of neglect and cobwebs.
“So, what do you think?”
Spinning in a slow circle, Hannah imagined the space filled with laughing children and said, “I love it.”
“Good.” Crystal grinned as she pushed away from the doorway. “Me, too.”
The two friends had run into each other at Starbucks that morning, Hannah making up an excuse about being in town visiting her parents. She hadn’t the strength yet to admit how very wrong she’d been about Deacon.
“Still wish you could join us,” Crystal said, sliding her arm through Hannah’s. She tugged her out the door and toward the main office. “Don’t think I won’t be calling you from time to time, asking for your advice or suggestions.”
“Please do,” Hannah replied with a small smile. “I’d love to help any way that I can.”
She really would. This space was going to mean a great deal to Willow Creek, and it was thrilling to know so many kids would be empowered like she’d been with the arts. But as happy as she was for the town, as Hannah walked the building and listened to Crystal’s plans for each room, she realized this wasn’t where she was meant to be, even without the possibility of Blue. Her heart simply wasn’t in it.
Technically, her heart was in a rowdy tour bus hundreds of miles away, currently headed in her direction. Last night on the phone, Sherry had made a point of reminding her of the free throw championship and concert coming up that weekend. As if she’d forgotten.
“You all right, sugar?” Crystal glanced at her with a worried line between her eyes. “I don’t mean to pry, but you’ve been real quiet all morning. I’m used to you singing and humming and dancing around. Not that a girl can’t have an off day—heaven knows, I live for the weekend when I throw on yoga pants and veg. But you seem a little sad. I hope you know you can tell me anything. I’ve always considered us friends.”
Hannah squeezed Crystal’s hand in appreciation and lowered her head to her shoulder.
“Me, too,” she murmured, drawing in a deep breath.
On the one hand, it was easier to hold it in and pretend she was fine. Once misery got a foothold, Hannah worried she’d be curled in the fetal position in the middle of the school. But she’d learned a lot about trusting people over the last couple months, and how good it felt to share her feelings.
She bit her lip. “It’
s just…being here? I don’t know, I guess in a way it proves how much I really have changed,” she confessed. “This school used to be my dream job, but now, it fits a dream I no longer have.”
“Sweetheart, I know that.” Crystal led her into the main office and then turned to face her. Hannah ducked her head, shielding her eyes. “I hope you don’t think I brought you here to sway your decision.”
“No,” she assured her. “I didn’t think that.”
“Good, because I really am happy for you. You deserve good things more than anyone else I know.” When Hannah just sniffled and nodded in response, Crystal shifted her weight. “Forgive me for pushing again, sugar, but I can’t help thinking there’s more that you’re not telling me.”
She finally lifted her tear-glazed eyes, and her friend grabbed her hand in concern.
“As it turns out, my new dream doesn’t want me, either,” she sobbed.
“Oh, Hannah…”
In the next breath, Hannah was wrapped in a fierce hug, and she buried her head in Crystal’s shoulder. But even with the welcome comfort, she refused to let the tears fall. She couldn’t. Once they started, they’d never end.
Crystal took a deep breath and held it, but she didn’t say anything else. After a moment, Hannah raised her head and took in her friend’s conflicted expression. She forced a smile she didn’t feel.
“It goes both ways, you know,” she said with a sigh. “You can tell me anything, too. Even things I don’t want to hear. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”
The indecision in Crystal’s eyes firmed, and she released the breath she’d been holding.
“It’s not very Christian to say…but I never did much like that Krista.”
Hannah’s jaw dropped.
She’d been prepared for hearing she’d aimed her stars too high, or even a reminder of just how far apart her and Deacon’s worlds truly were. But hearing the sweet, kind-hearted, church-going woman say, well, that, had Hannah laughing for the first time in over a week.
The Nanny Arrangement (Country Blues) Page 18