by Scott, S. L.
“Yeah, I’d like that. I’ll text you soon.”
“Cool.” He pauses, then says, “I’m sorry about Cassie.”
“I appreciate it. Take care, Dave.”
“See ya around, Han.”
When I hang up, I think about how far Dave and I have come, not just in our friendship, but what we went through together. I’ll always be grateful to him for his kindness when I had no one else.
Smiling, I now feel truly ready to face the day. I walk into the kitchen and greet my aunt with the smile that’s still on my face. “Good afternoon.”
“You burned the day away.”
“Guess I did.” It’s easier to stand my ground with my aunt than it ever has been with Jet. It’s an interesting detail I’ll explore about the time I’m trying to fall asleep, but my mind won’t rest. Basically like every night lately.
She asks, “Have you seen Cassie’s journal?”
“No.” The question surprises me. We’re not allowed to go into Cassie’s room, and Eileen would freak out if we touched anything. “I can help find it if you’d like.”
“No. No. No. I’ll find it.”
“Do you want to read it?”
She stops and shoots me a look. As if her mission has changed, she faces me and narrows her eyes. “How do you think Alfie is faring with him?”
Him . . . Jet. “I think Alfie is fine with his father.”
“Are you taking his side again?”
Filling a glass with water, I attempt to calm the fire in her eyes. “I’m not taking anyone’s side but Alfie’s. Jet took him to the zoo today. You know how much he loves it there.”
“He’s just trying to buy his affection.”
I sigh. “I don’t want to fight over this. He lost six years with him—”
“Because he chose to leave my pregnant daughter.”
“Are you sure?”
Offense crinkles the skin on her face. “How dare you say she would lie!”
“I didn’t say Cassie would lie. I’m just starting to think there are two sides to this story.”
“Not when it comes to this. That man is a lowlife lothario, and he’ll turn Alfie into one if we don’t intervene. If you’re truly on Alfie’s side, you’ll protect him from his sperm donor.”
“Ew.” I could argue, but there’s no point. She’s made up her mind, and there’s no changing it. “I’m going to have dinner with them and watch Alfie while Jet plays a show tonight.”
“See? Not even twenty-four hours and he’s shuffling his kid off like he doesn’t matter.”
“He has to pay rent—”
“You seemed to have lost all reasoning, Hannah. This is exactly how he tempted my daughter into his sins. I’ll be speaking with the lawyer today to figure out our next step.”
“This is it. We’ve been given more than I thought we’d get. We have shared custody for the next sixty days. We need to make this transition as easy as possible on Alfie.”
She gasps, her hand covering her mouth. “Transition? There is no transitioning. I’m fighting. If you don’t intend to fight with me, you should probably consider returning to Dallas.” On that final not so veiled threat, she turns and goes to her room. The door is not handled gently when it closes behind her.
I want to do some door slamming of my own, but I need to shower and get ready to go to Jet’s house.
Wrapped in a towel and freshly showered, I open my laptop to do what was inevitable—find a job. As soon as I sit down, my phone rings. It takes me a second to shake the shock. “Hi . . . Dad.”
“Eileen just called me hysterical. What have you done, Hannah?”
Seeing him at Christmas was one thing, but this is the first call I’ve had from him in years, and it’s to gripe at me for how I’m apparently treating his sister. The pain runs deep. I didn’t even get a hi, hello, or how are you? “I told her the truth. We have time and half custody. I have no control over that.”
“I know the outcome, but you need to make sure you win full custody until we get that matter of the will out of the way.”
“You mean Cassie’s wishes,” I say, snarky.
“Eileen said you were going soft on that loser. Keep your eyes on the prize.”
“Alfie’s not a prize. He’s a kid. His mother’s wishes should matter.”
“So you want to raise him as your own? You can’t support yourself.”
I swear they’re the same person. “I want what’s best for him. That’s all.”
“Stay focused. I’m busy. I can’t field calls from hysterical women because my own daughter has forgotten what responsibility means.”
“I’m done here.”
“Good. So am I.”
The line goes dead, just like our relationship. Why does he hate me so much? Did he hate my mother so much that he’d crush me just to get revenge?
I shut my computer, disheartened by everything. Finishing my last two years of college will have to wait another year. I’m almost out of money, and despite what my aunt thinks, I plan to be in Alfie’s life however I can. If that means coming back home for good, then I guess I’m staying in Austin longer than I planned. I need to start thinking long term and moving out once I have a job.
* * *
“Donuts?”
I walk in, right past Jet and his ridiculously handsome, make no effort just woke up looking this incredible sexy self. Gracious, I’m horny. I really need to get control of these rampant and sexually charged thoughts. If I’m not careful, he’ll be naked in my mind in no time, or better yet, in his bed with me climbing—I shake my head. “Dessert. They’re Alfie’s favorite.”
“Round Rock Donuts. Man, I haven’t had those in years. So good.” As soon as I set the box down, he lifts the lid and starts to reach for one.
I slap his hand. “Not until after dinner, mister.”
He looks over his shoulder. Seemingly satisfied that we’re alone, he whispers, “Do you know how hot it is when you call me mister?”
My belly and lower clenches as his words act as an aphrodisiac and the dull pulse becomes a throb between my legs. His breath is heavy against the bare skin of my shoulder. I clear my throat and try to hide the fact that my nipples are hard buttons pressed against my bra when all I want is Jet pressing them.
Shoot. Solo time is not getting the job done.
He’s supposed to be the enemy.
I can’t forget that, but he makes it hard to focus. “You shouldn’t say such things. You need to forget our past.”
“You keep saying that as if it will make your wish come true. It won’t. I can’t forget, Hannah.”
“You have a million girls who would rather have your smooth lines laid upon them.”
Opening the fridge, he sets two bottles of Dos Equis on the counter in front of me. “See, that’s where you are absolutely right. Girls.” With a bottle opener in hand, he pops one cap and then the other off. “I want a woman. Again.” Pressing the green glass to his lips, he tilts the bottle back.
Watching the golden lager slide from the neck of the bottle into his mouth is mesmerizing. But seeing his Adam’s apple dip deep along his throat and then up again as he swallows is a vision I’d pay money for . . . and one I’ll store for later.
I push away from the counter and quickstep around him. “Alfie?”
When Alfie comes running out of his room, he runs to me. “Hannah.”
I envelop him in my arms. It’s only been twenty-four hours, but it feels good to hug him. “Hey, buddy. How are you?”
“Jet got me a table. I can do drawings on it, and I don’t have to clean up my mess on it.”
Glancing up at Jet, I catch his eyes already on me. I turn my attention back to Alfie. “That’s great, but you know how fast a mess can get out of hand if you let it.”
“Yeah, I already cleaned my room, except the table.” Jumping up, he asks, “Will you cook ramen with me?”
“Absolutely. That’s why I’m here, chef.”
Althou
gh I know Jet’s brothers don’t live here, I almost expected them to be here all the time, hanging out, drinking and eating together. I like that it’s just the three of us. While Jet’s grating ginger and the carrot, I’m put in charge of boiling two eggs and mincing garlic. Alfie is opening the yakisoba noodles.
Jet’s cutting board is almost bumped up to mine while we work side by side like a team. What would it be like to cook like this every night? Just the three of us? A team. I glance up at him quickly but am caught. One you’re-so-busted eyebrow is raised at me, and I look away with a smile on my face.
Not two seconds later, his shoe is against the side of mine, and I’m not in a hurry to move.
Dinner is delicious, but I wonder if a noodle soup can tide Jet over through a gig, though. “Are you still hungry?”
“No, I’m good for now,” he says, looking content.
I stand. “Very well. I can clean the dishes. Why don’t you two dig into the donuts?”
“Yay!” Alfie hops off the barstool and grabs the box from the kitchen counter and runs into the living room. “Jet said there’s a game on. Can we eat in front of the TV?”
He never cared about sports before, but living in the lion’s den will rub off in many ways. Alfie’s waiting for me to answer, but it’s not right if I do. I look at Jet and then turn back. “Your house. Your rules.”
“Go on, little man,” he says. “I’ll be right there.”
The TV turns on, and Jet comes to stand next to me at the sink. “It must be hard to hand off a role you’ve had for so long. I’m sorry you’ve been put in the middle.”
Focusing on the plate in my hand, I run the soapy sponge over it and scrub. “You don’t have to apologize to me. You didn’t create this situation. Anyway, I’m exactly where I want to be, so you don’t need to worry about me.”
He’s close. So close I can feel his presence overshadowing me from behind. I don’t look back, and I don’t continue the conversation. Not more than ten or so seconds tick by before I can breathe again.
I look up and watch him sit next to Alfie on the couch. While taking a bite of donut, Jet looks up. We exchange a little smile when our eyes meet in a silent but peaceful surrender. I smile before finishing the dishes and letting a son and his dad share donuts for dessert. Seven rolls around too soon.
Wired on sugar, Alfie’s running laps around the backyard while we look on and laugh. Jet says, “I’m thinking about getting him a trampoline. Mom used to send us outside to jump on ours even if it was raining. She’d call us wild and tell us to release some energy. It used to work for us. Any thoughts?”
“That makes sense. What about waiting for a week, though? He’s only been with you one day, and it probably feels like he’s on vacation or having a sleepover. I can’t deny he’s taken to you quickly, but he’s used to a certain routine. I worry how he’ll adapt after a normal day when you’re there and not me. If there’s one thing Cassie showed me in how she parented Alfie, it was not to indulge unnecessarily. If you think a trampoline will make this transition easier, then get one. He’s happy in the present, but I want to make sure he’s happy in the long run.”
“He’s never looked at me like I’m a stranger.” He pulls a cigarette and lighter from his shirt pocket and lights up. There’s no breeze tonight, and the smoke fills the air around us.
Just as I close my eyes to inhale him into my lungs, he waves it off. “Sorry about that. I need to quit.” Signaling toward Alfie, he looks regretful. “He’s already told me he wants me to. I might give it a try.”
“He’s having a good influence on you.” I grin and tap his side with my elbow. “About time someone did.”
I like the smile I receive in return, the tension missing from his jaw. “We had a good day.” He drops the barely smoked cigarette to the cement patio and snubs it out with his shoe. Picking it up, he tosses the remains in a bucket full of sand and butts. “I had a good day because of him.”
“He has that effect.” I’m tempted to tell him that’s how he makes me feel but don’t. He’s making it awfully hard to keep my guard up since I realized he’s not my enemy. With each passing hour we spend together, I’m starting to believe that he just might be my ally.
10
Hannah
Cassie was an amazing mom.
She read to him every night until her last day. She loved spending any time she could with him. I relate. I love him like he’s my own.
After reading two books to Alfie and having him read the third, he fell asleep in the middle. Kneeling on the floor, I rest my head on the bed while he sleeps. The room is quiet, and my body relaxes. It would be easy to let my worries fade away and fall asleep in the peace of the room.
Maybe I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute. I’m about to close them when I hear a light strum from the living room. I’m not home, I remind myself. I can’t get too comfortable although it would be so easy to do so. Pushing myself up, I lean down and kiss Alfie’s head. “I love you,” I whisper, and then sneak out of the room, closing the door quietly behind me.
Standing in the hall, I’m not sure if I should make a show of my presence or walk out unannounced. I look a little farther down the hall and see his bedroom light on. Taking a few steps, I peek in. I feel almost guilty spying like this when he’s not back here, but I just want to see the scene of the crime from that night.
I can’t even kid myself when it comes to being with him too many months ago. It was the best sex I’d ever had. The bed is messy, the sheet tangled, but it looks the same—some clothes on the floor, miscellaneous items from money to cologne on the dresser, and the blinds cracked open even though it’s dark outside.
“Whatcha doin’?”
“Ack!” My hands fly to my chest. “Oh, my God.” I squeal too loud and then try to rein in my thundering heart, hoping I didn’t wake Alfie. Whacking Jet on the arm, I say, “You scared the hell out of me, Jet.”
“Sorry about that.” He chuckles but ends up with that same smirk on his face as the night I fell for his lines and right into his bed. “But really, what are you doing in my bedroom? Reminiscing?”
I ignore the way he’s raised one of his eyebrows like he just busted me doing something that might be a compliment to him. I refuse to give his ego a boost. “I thought I heard a noise. I guess it was just you playing guitar.” He doesn’t need to know that he’s right. Ugh. I can already imagine that smile curling up at the sides. Nope. I will not give him the satisfaction.
“Noise?” Jerking back, he replaces his look of offense with narrowed eyes and a look of determination on his face. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. I think you were spying on me to gather information to use against me.”
Remembering how close we are to Alfie’s bedroom door, I grab Jet by the upper arm and pull him toward the living room. As soon as we round the corner, I reply, “I didn’t come over here to spy on you. I was invited. And don’t call me sweetheart.”
“From what I remember—”
“I don’t care what you remember. This relationship is strictly platonic.”
His gaze slides down to my hand, which I still have firmly wrapped around his incredibly sexy and strong bicep. I drop my hand to my side quickly and send a quick prayer to the heavens that my cheeks aren’t as red hot as they feel. “Starting now.”
“Have it your way, sweet—Hannah.” He walks to the front door and opens it. Standing just outside on the porch, he says, “Maybe we should hang out here so we don’t wake Alfie. I have some time to kill, and I need to tune my guitar.”
I go out but leave the door cracked. “The swing looks inviting. Do you mind?”
“Make yourself at home.”
Sitting on the rustic swing, I don’t worry about it breaking. The paint may be peeling, but I can tell by the bolts and structure it’s built to last. Pushing off, I watch as he sits on the edge of a lawn chair and messes with a guitar string. He glances up, catching me watching him, and asks, “You heard of the band, The Resis
tance?”
“Of course.”
Something changes in his eyes, an excitement seen as well as heard in his voice. “They want to sign us to a recording deal.”
I drag my feet, bringing the swing to a halt. “What? No way!”
“We were sent the contracts today.”
“That’s amazing. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” He strums mindlessly, but it’s music to my ears. Talent comes naturally to him. “I haven’t looked over it since I was out most of the day.”
“You think you’ll sign?”
“I want to, but there are other things to consider.”
Kicking off with my feet, I say, “Alfie.”
Turning his attention back to the guitar, he nods. “I think like most guys, I’ve had thoughts about how I would feel if a girl told me she was pregnant and how I would react.” Another strum, then his palm goes flat, cutting off the sound.
I’ve had the same thoughts if I got pregnant and how I would handle it. “How would you react?”
I like the way he looks into my eyes when he talks to me. I’ve seen him do it to others. For as much as I want to consider him a rebel musician who can be easily judged as irresponsible, Jet’s not like that. He’s respectful, and I’ve never heard him say a mean word. Granted, I’m not around him all the time, but as an observer, he’s different from my ex by a million miles and a few years of maturity.
He replies, “I would’ve been there however the mom needed or wanted. I’d support her the best I could. I would never walk away from my kid, though. You were told otherwise. I just don’t know why.”
Neither do I. What would she gain by lying about something so important? Cassie struggled financially. I think Jet would have helped if he had known. This is such a mess. I wish I knew what to believe.
I may never know the truth. The sincerity in his eyes makes me want to believe him, but if I do, am I betraying Cassie and Aunt Eileen?
My rambling thoughts are cut off when he says, “I understand you’re caught in the middle and stuck with me when it comes to Alfie. You don’t have to believe me, but I hope you give me a chance to show you who I am and not just believe what you’re told.”