Hannah

Jet Crow . . . Good lord, that man.

I’ve lost so much time in memories of him. It’s hard to stand my ground when all I want to do is lie down with him . . . on top of me. Again.

I can’t even listen to his music anymore. My body starts aching in ways I can’t satisfy when I hear his deep voice singing.

His lips.

His mouth.

His tongue.

God. My body warms, remembering when he whispered in my ear, “It will be hard to forget the best night of my life.”

Taking a slow inhale, I close my eyes, wanting to touch him again as he touches me. Strong hands with rough, callused fingers drag over my soft skin, tiny triggers fueling my desires. Feverish.

My breathing picks up.

My body is his and not my own.

My thoughts buried back in his bed. There’s no escaping the hunger I have for Jet.

I crave him.

I ache for him.

I’ll burn for him just to taste the fire, shaming myself for giving in once again.

“Ah.” I try to catch my harsh breath and slow my racing heart. I exhale a deep breath, releasing the remaining pent-up energy.

Straightening the lace that hugs my hips, I rest my arms on the bed beside me as I come down from the high of a release. I stare at the ceiling fan, my body exhausted, but alive and still tingling between my legs. A pulse still beats to the rhythm we once created together, my body remembering every tender and beautiful moment we once shared.

I’ve got to learn to embrace hate a little better, or I’m never going to be able to keep my real feelings hidden from the world, from Eileen, and from Jet.

The sound of cabinets slamming is heard. It was the washing machine lid being dropped earlier. The front door before that.

I’ve been hiding in my room all day. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. I understand Aunt Eileen is upset, but I’m upset too. First, we lost Cassie. Now, we lost custody of Alfie.

I need to mourn in my own way without having to discuss or defend Jet Crow. If I go out there, that’s what will end up happening, and I’m just not ready. I wouldn’t know what to say anyway.

I’m conflicted.

He has a right to raise his son. From all that I’ve seen and discovered on my own, Jet’s a good guy who wants to do right by his son. Who am I to discount that desire? But damn it, I miss Alfie and worry about him constantly.

All the things I’ve heard about the man over the past seven years, when pieced together, don’t make up the man I met, the man I’ve come to think about too much.

Sitting up, I decide it’s time to deal with the inevitable. I start to freshen up before heading into the firing line, also known as the kitchen, but then my phone rings. It’s been a few months since I’ve seen that name and heard my friend’s voice, so I answer quickly, “Hi there, stranger.”

Dave Carson, friend and one time savior. “Hey there. It’s been a while. Wanted to check in.”

“Too long. Things are . . . what they are.” He’ll want to know, so I just tell him without waiting to be asked. “Cassie passed away.”

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry, Hannah. I should have called sooner.”

“No. We knew it was just a matter of time. She was so young, and it’s a terrible way to die, but in a way, we got to prepare Alfie.” I was “prepared,” but it hasn’t made it any less painful.

“I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Thank you.” I’m so happy to hear from him. “How are you?”

“Good. Working a lot.”

“Oh yeah, where?”

“A recording studio over on Oltorf. I have the night shift. Musicians are a funny bunch. It’s the busiest and shittiest shift, but I get to record for free when it’s not in use.”

“That’s cool. Are you recording an album?”

“I’m working on an EP, but I won’t be able to do anything with it for at least another year. I need money for that.”

I smile, but I feel the tightness. I take the blame for him not being with the band he started. My ex did damage to me and managed to fuck his best friend over in the process. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that, Hannah. You don’t owe anyone an apology. I left because of an asshole I thought was a friend. How can I play my music with someone I don’t trust? I can’t. Anyway, at least I get to create music I like now. That band had changed too much for me to be proud of anymore. Good for them for working like they do. Fuck him though for trading us in for a shot at fame.”

“Yeah. Screw him.” The words aren’t as harsh, but the feeling behind it is the same.

“Hey, so let’s hang out sometime and catch up.”

“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.”

Although 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.