Hetch (Men OF S.W.A.T. #1)

by River Savage

  “Those are normal reactions to have. I’d be worried if, after the incident with the father and his children, you didn’t have some kind of reaction. What you have been through will always stay with you, Liam. And yes, I know the job has to be black and white, but unfortunately, our lives are not. There are going to be days where you question things. The how’s and whys won’t ever stop coming. You have to realize that. But you also have to realize you can control it. You can work through it and not let it control you.”

  “So how do I control it then?” I sit forward, almost eager for the magic cure.

  “You do it by going back to work, by continuing to live. And by accepting you couldn’t save your father. You couldn’t then, and you sure can’t now. You do it with the help of people you love. By talking about it all with them. And by letting them in.

  “I want to let her in. I want to open up to her—”

  “Then let’s take it back to the first question.” He cuts me off before I can continue. “Why are you avoiding her, Liam?”

  “Because...” I think about it for a second. “…because she deserves a happy ending, and I’m not sure I can give it to her.”

  Twenty-Six

  Liberty

  Sunday.

  Me: Talk to me Hetch.

  Tuesday.

  Me: Don’t push me away.

  Wednesday.

  Me: Please, Hetch…

  Friday.

  Me: Just tell me you’re okay.

  Sunday.

  Me: I miss you.

  I scroll through my phone’s history willing a reply to appear.

  Give it up, Liberty. He’s not going to answer.

  “So, what’s new with you? It seems like you’ve dropped off the face of the earth these last few weeks.” Payton’s foot kicks me under the table, pulling me out of my moping.

  “Sorry, what?” I drop my phone into my handbag and zip it up, locking it away from me.

  We’re at Lotus café. It's my favorite coffee shop, on the account they have the best coffee around, and we're catching up before I head to work.

  “What’s going on with you? You’re not yourself. How’s Hetch doing?” The question seizes my heart, his name like a death grip, squeezing it tightly to remind me how much he owns it.

  “He’s good,” I lie, not wanting her to know I haven’t seen or spoken to him in three weeks.

  Twenty-one days since I woke up alone in my bed.

  Five hundred and four hours of not knowing how he is.

  Thirty thousand something minutes spent wondering if he’s ever coming back.

  And almost two million seconds thinking he won’t.

  Three weeks is a long time when someone you love ignores you.

  “Why don’t I believe you?” Payton’s question douses my stalkerish countdown.

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you believe me?” I challenge, forcing a light tone.

  You can do it, Liberty. Don’t crack now.

  “Because you’re sitting there with the same look as you had when you were nineteen and Bobby Tannersville dumped your ass back in college.”

  “I am not.” I scoff with a grin because she’s right. But Bobby Tannersville was a grade A asshole who didn’t deserve my tears. Hetch does.

  “Lib.” She reaches across the table and covers my hand with hers. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

  “I know, I promise I’m fine. I’m just so busy with work is all.” I return her hand squeeze with my own and pull out of her grasp.

  I don’t know why I haven’t told anyone Hetch and I are in limbo. Maybe I’m holding onto some kind of false hope that he’s going to sort his shit out, and everything will go back to the way things were.

  Or maybe I’m not ready to say good-bye yet.

  “Enough about me, how about you? How’s everything with Jett?” I’ve been so lost in my own drama the last few weeks. I don’t even know what’s going on with my own brother.

  “He’s moving in with her.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” The news is like a shock paddle to my depressing life, jolting me into feeling something other than self-pity.

  The stupid motherfucker.

  “Yeah, he came around the other day to collect the rest of his stuff. Told me all about it.” Her voice is a mixture of pain and disgust, and for a second, I think she’s going to break right here in the coffee shop. Until her chin juts out and her shoulders square, keeping herself in check.

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Pay. I’m embarrassed he’s blood-related to me.”

  “Don’t say that. God, your mom would have a freak-out.”

  “My mom would be equally embarrassed,” I counter. Knowing it might be a stretch, but I would put money on it that she’s probably had the thought once at the very least. “In all seriousness, Pay, you know we don’t support anything he is doing.”

  “I do. And I promise I’m okay. I’m just so over it now. You were right. I need to move on.”

  “I hate I was right.” This time, it’s me who reaches across the table and gently covers her hand with mine.

  “I know, but at least I know now, right? I mean, yeah I really thought we were going to make it this time. I mean hell, we were talking about having another baby.” She shakes her head and stops herself from saying any more. “Anyway, what’s done is done. Time to focus on Arabella and me. We need to get right with our lives now.”

  “How is Arabella taking everything?” I miss the little cutie. Having her smiling face around would have been too much for me, so I’ve been keeping myself busy with the boys at Haven.

  “Oh, well, that’s the one good thing about it. She’s not upset. I think maybe a little confused, but honestly, she’s more concerned when Hetch is coming around again so he can watch another movie with her. She hasn’t stopped asking about him.” My throat restricts at his name and my previous calm exterior cracks under the pressure of keeping this façade going.

  “Liberty?” Payton picks up on my change in demeanor, scooting closer toward me. “Hey, what is it?” I think she asks, but I can’t be sure over the start of my breakdown.

  “Iliedthingswithusarenotokayeverythingisamessandidon’tknowwhattodo.” I manage to sob all of it out in one long breath, before dropping my head into my hands.

  “Okay, you’re going to have to try that again, I can’t understand crying Lib.” I snort through my tears at that one. And take the moment to gather myself before trying again.

  “I lied,” I tell her once I’ve calmed down enough to talk. My eyes do a quick sweep of our area and realize we don’t have an audience.

  “I gathered. Now, what exactly did you lie about?”

  “Hetch and I haven’t spoken in three weeks.” Saying the words aloud brings on another round of tears. Payton reaches into her bag then hands me a tissue when she catches me using my sleeve to dry up my tears.

  “Okay…?” She prompts for more.

  “Things have been messy. He’s dealing with some serious issues Pay, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “What sort of issues? What are we talking about here?” She pulls out anther tissue when the tears won’t stop.

  “His dad shot himself three years ago.”

  “Fuck,” she softly curses. The word pretty much sums it all up for us.

  Fuck.

  “Yeah. Hetch was there. He tried to talk him down. He couldn’t.”

  “Oh, God, I had no idea he was dealing with that.”

  “Neither did I. It all came out after the jumper on the overpass in the city three weeks back. It brought up those issues with his dad. Next thing I know, he’s drunk and breaking things off with me.” I leave out the part about him coming back to me and the moment in the shower. It was a private one. I know Payton would never reveal anything I told her but I still don’t feel comfortable telling her.

  It was our moment.

  “So, that’s it? It’s over?” She sounds as confused as I am.

&
nbsp; Is Hetch not talking to me his way of saying it’s over? Did he regret coming back to me that night? The questions play out over and over, and like every day of the last three weeks, I have no answer.

  “I don’t know, Pay. I haven’t spoken to him since he left. He’s been avoiding me.” I cringe as I recount how many times I’ve knocked on his door over the last twenty-one days, only to be left standing there rejected.

  “How is that even possible? You live next door to each other.”

  “He hasn’t been there. All I know is, he’s not working. Kota, his sister, messaged me saying he took a leave of absence.”

  “Did she say anything else?”

  “Just told me not to give up on him.” My mind recalls the text messages with her. I wish I had the balls to ask her where he is. If he is staying with her, or out at his house. If I knew where he was, maybe this would be easier.

  “So maybe he’s working through it all and needs time.”

  “Maybe, and I’m trying to be patient, and I’m trying not to take offense to him ignoring me. He has a lot of shit to work through, and I’m not sure where I fit in with all of it.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know where you fit in with it all? You love him, don’t you?” She sounds annoyed now, so I brace myself for it.

  “Yeah.” I wipe my eyes again when the tears start back up.

  “Then you find a place. You get in there and you fight for it, babe. He’s hurting. I can’t imagine what he’s going through. Don’t give up on him.”

  “You’re right.” I draw a calming breath into my lungs. “I'm just emotional and overthinking things. I can give him more time.”

  “There she is. You’re damn right you can. But if he takes longer than six weeks, I’m gonna kick his ass.”

  I force a smile or maybe it’s a disguised grimace at the thought of waiting another three weeks.

  Jesus.

  “We’re a couple of messes, aren’t we?” She accepts it with a wink, trying to make light of our situations.

  “Hot freaking messes. Sex and the City and ice cream have our names on it.” I blow my nose, vowing it to be the last time. I need to get my shit together. We’re in a damn coffee shop for Christ's sake.

  “No, I’m thinking more cocktails and dancing.” Her brows dance up to her hairline, taunting me with a good time.

  “I don’t know, Pay. I’m not going to be the best dance partner right now.” I wish I didn’t have to knock her back like this, but I know I’m not going to be much fun.

  “What? Come on, Lib, you have to. It’s your duty as my best friend to take your newly single friend out after she finds out her husband knocked his secretary up.”

  “It is?” I sigh, knowing this isn’t going to end the way I hoped.

  “It is. Come on, it will be good. This Saturday Jett has Arabella for the weekend. It will be her first weekend away from me. Can you imagine how hard it’s going to be for me?” I know she’s putting it on, but I don’t miss the panic flash in her eyes.

  Jesus, she’s killing me here.

  “Okay,” I concede. “But only if we go somewhere else. I don’t want to go back to The Elephant.” I can’t imagine what I would do if I ran into Hetch there.

  “Sold.” Her hands drum down on the table in jest before she softly claps them together.

  “It’s going to be fun. You’ll see, B. One night out like old times and all our worries will be on the back burner.”

  I’m not as certain as she is.

  One night out isn’t going to fix my broken heart, nor my worried soul.

  At least not until Hetch and I have closure will I be able to function. Until then, I guess I have to put it aside for the sake of my friend. It’s the least I can do, considering the douche who broke her heart is my brother.

  Dick.

  “Excuse me, Lib, can I have a word with you?” A knock at my door later in the day has my head moving from the files I’m working on, to find Mitch standing in my doorway.

  “Sure can. Come on in.” He pauses on the threshold, letting his eyes roam around my office before stepping inside and taking a seat across from my desk. Today I’m in the office catching up on paperwork while Renee is on shift with the boys.

  “So what’s up, Mitch?” I press, after watching him for a few beats. There’s something different in the way he’s holding himself today. As if he’s unsure how to act in order to appear relaxed.

  “Umm, I have a favor to ask.” The quiver in his voice doesn’t hide his nerves, which in turn makes me uneasy.

  Please, don’t let it be anything serious.

  “Okay then, ask away.” I try not to let my concern show. For all I know, his question is something personal and maybe he’s embarrassed to ask.

  “Umm, well I’m hoping maybe you could tell me why Hetch stopped coming around.” A flush of adrenalin tingles through my body at the mention of his name.

  Crap, I should have realized this was coming.

  Hetch not only has dropped out of my life, but he's dropped out of Mitch’s too.

  “Oh, Mitch.” I shift my weight briefly and take a second to think about how to word my next sentence. “I know he’s really busy at the moment. If he could be here, I’m sure he would.” I try to soften the rejection for him.

  If only someone could soften it for me.

  I haven’t told Mitch what’s been happening with Hetch. The first week he missed one-on-one, Mitch took it fine.

  The second week, I could tell he was confused, maybe even a little hurt, and by the third, he was angry.

  “Yeah, he said he’s been busy, but I thought maybe I had done something wrong.”

  “You’ve spoken to him?” My question slaps the air with contempt, and I have to remind myself not to react the way I want.

  I had no idea they were still in contact.

  “Yeah, he’s texted me a couple times.” Mitch somehow misses my annoyance, revealing how often he and Hetch have been keeping in contact.

  Of course, he’s messaging Mitch. He’s only ignoring you, Liberty.

  “Well, I’m certain you have done nothing wrong, bud. I know Hetch has a lot going on and when things calm down for him, he’ll be back.” I surprise myself with my easy tone, despite the tightening of my chest.

  While I am relieved he hasn’t abandoned Mitch completely, I still have to squash down the disappointment he hasn’t contacted me.

  “Well, maybe you could still talk to him. ‘Cause you know, the big brother program starts next week, and I thought you know, he’s already like my mentor, and I don't want anyone else. Maybe he could do it.” He continues to break my heart.

  “You want me to ask him to join our big brother program?” I have to repeat the question slowly to allow myself some time to control the rolling heat spiraling in my belly.

  The big brother program is one of our main volunteer programs at Haven. It kind of works the same way as what Hetch does for Mitch. Only it’s a little more hands on, and more frequent. Committing to the program means committing to two hours, every week. Joining in on group outings, plus being readily available if needed.

  I’m not sure Hetch is up for it.

  Mitch is going to get hurt here.

  “You think he would?” His hands clasp in front of his stomach, twisting his fingers to crack each knuckle. It’s a habit he does when nervous and even though there is nothing wrong with it, I can’t stand the sound.

  “Gross, Mitch. Don’t do that, you know I can’t handle it,” I scold while I figure out how to deal with his request. I don’t want Mitch to think he has no chance, but I also don’t want to give him false hope.

  “Sorry.” He releases his hands and shakes them out in front of him. “So do you think you can talk to him?” he presses, impatient for my answer.

  “I’ll talk to him, Mitch,” I concede, because what else can I say?

  I’ll talk to him all right, maybe with my fist.

  “Thanks, Liberty.” He stands, his
earlier tense stance relaxing from his shoulders. “He’s not going to say no to you.” He starts to walk out, his swagger a little too cocky.

  “Hang on a minute, Mitch,” I call him back. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up, okay? I’ll ask, but if he has too much going on, I don’t want you to be upset.” I try to lay it out for him the best way I can. He needs to know there is a possibility Hetch may not even be able to commit to the program, or want to commit to the program.

  “It’s all good, Liberty. I know he’ll want to do it.” He doesn’t heed my warning, only making my belly coil tighter.

  Fucking Hetch.

  I don’t bother pushing the issue; there’s no point. Mitch has made up his mind. In his head, Hetch hangs the moon, and even if he hasn’t been by in three weeks, he’s still the best thing since sliced bread.

  “Okay, kid. We’ll sort it out. Now get out of here. Don’t you have rec time with Renee?” I check the activities board over to my right to see if I’m correct.

  “Yeah, I’m going. Thanks again, Lib. You’re the best.” He gives me one of his rare smiles, then leaves, unaware of the inner turmoil boiling through me.

  “Damn you, Hetch.” I sigh when I’m alone and Mitch is out of sight.

  “Damn you. Damn you. Damn you.”

  I find myself pacing a few minutes later, repeating the words.

  “Damn you. Damn you. Damn you.”

  When my pacing and ranting only serves to frustrate me more, I do the only thing I know to do. I reach for my phone and with trembling fingers, I dial his number.

  There is no way I’m letting Mitch get hurt in all of this.

  The phone rings once, twice, three times and like every other time I’ve called him the last three weeks I’m expecting his voicemail. It doesn’t come; instead, the line clicks over and Hetch answers with my name.

  “Liberty?” My heart slams against my chest, and my legs fill with lead.