Hannah

Sitting on a picnic bench, I watch Alfie run wild. The kid already has so much energy, but the popsicle sends him over the edge. I just need to outlast the sugar rush.

My phone buzzes, and I look down. Jet.

I don’t think there’s a cure for my broken parts, but I could use a little glue. I had happily blocked out that I sent that text until this reminder. My gaze slides south, my heart beating harder in my chest, anticipating his reply: I’ll be home in time to pick Alfie up from school tomorrow.

I read it several times before I rest my jaw in my hand, struggling not to recoil in humiliation. I was awake this morning when he first started texting, not able to sleep with all the worries crowding my brain. I’ve had many emotions since coming to Austin, but they were never conflicted until I met him.

Trying so hard to hold my family together under their judgment of me has been like living inside a pressure cooker. I’ve been on edge for months, ready to burst well before the judge made my life even more complicated.

I’ve taken so much of my uncertainty on what to do out on Jet and then dumped that text on him like he’s a priest taking confessions.

I obviously crossed a line by sending it. Jet’s giving me an out by not acknowledging my mistake, something my aunt would point out in a heartbeat. I’ll just pretend I never sent it. Replying, I text: I’ll let him know.

Jet: Thanks. You doing okay?

Me: All good.

I used to hate lying. Liars are the worst, and now I’ve become one. I would never want him to worry, and he will if I open up too much. Remembering my thoughts earlier, I take a risk and call him. He answers after the first ring, “Hey, everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I reply, keeping my voice down so Alfie can’t hear if he runs by. “I’m fine, but I was wondering, and you can totally say no, if . . .” Am I doing the right thing, or am I dragging him into my mess?

“If what, Hannah?”

I can’t afford a hotel, and if we’re at Jet’s, at least Alfie will have his stuff and room. “Since you won’t be home until tomorrow, would it be okay if Alfie and I stay at your house tonight?”

“Why do you want to stay there? Are you sure everything’s all right?”

“Yes. Fine. I just want some peace and one-on-one time with Alfie.”

“You’re welcome there anytime, Hannah, but I hope you’re being honest with me.”

Honest? I’m a horrible person. Run as far away as you can, Jet. Hesitantly, I ask, “Why would I lie?”

“The other day, you mentioned that your aunt told you to go back to Dallas. Are you still fighting?”

Feeling cornered between a lie I don’t want to tell and the truth, I struggle with what to do. If I don’t lie, it’s like handing him ammo to use against us. Would he do that? I’m at a loss on reading people these days. My instincts tell me to trust him . . . and I do. But everyone else tells me not to. “No, we’re fine. Hey, listen, we don’t have to stay there. Don’t even worry. Never mind—”

“The place is yours whenever you need. The key is under the right black shutter of my window on the side of the house.”

“Your bedroom window?”

“Yes,” he says, and I can almost see the smile I hear in his tone.

He’s being so kind. I need to learn to accept a gift with grace. “Thank you, Jet.”

“Anytime. There are pizzas in the freezer, but not much else. I didn’t shop since I was leaving town.”

“It’s okay. I can stop by the store on the way home.” Alfie comes barreling back and plops down across from me. “I should go. Thanks again.”

“Hey, Hannah?”

“Yeah?”

“You take care of everyone else, but don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

“I’ll try.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“I’ll be gone, but Alfie will be excited to see you.”

“Right.” He sounds disappointed.

“You know,” I start, but I’m not sure what to say. I just don’t want to hear him sad. “You’ll be traveling and need to eat. Alfie will need to eat. What if we make you dinner? You can come home and relax instead of jumping right back into the chaos.”

I’ve stunned the poor man. Muffled voices are heard on his end, but Jet’s still silent. “Jet?”

“I’m here. Sorry. We were taking a break from the studio. I have to get back inside, but dinner sounds good. Really good.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“I’ll call Alfie later, but yeah, it’s a date.”

It’s a date . . . It’s just an expression, a common phrase, and neither of us corrects him, letting it go. “Bye,” I say and hang up. Setting my phone down in front of me like it’s a hot potato, I ask myself, “What am I doing?”

I’m answered unexpectedly. “Falling for my dad.”

I look up and right into his innocent eyes, my mouth falling open. “What do you know about falling?”

Alfie smiles. “Uncle Tulsa talks about the ladies falling for him. Why do grown-ups fall when they like each other? Do you get scraped knees? I got one last week. Jet told me to be more careful so I don’t fall again.”

“He’s a wise man.”

I’m still in shock he told me I’m falling for his dad. No way.

Getting up, he comes around and rubs my shoulder. “Be more careful, Hannah, so you don’t fall again.”

“That’s the best advice I’ve received in a long time, buddy.” I stand, and we start for the exit. “I appreciate you looking out for my well-being.”

“Daddy said since I’m the man of the house at Grandma’s, I need to take care of you.”

“Me and your grandma?”

“Yes.”

That man is something else. After how Eileen’s treated him, how I’ve treated him, he still says such kind things in front of Alfie.

He adds, “He talks about you and how nice you are.”

“He does?”

Shrugging, he says, “Sure,” like it’s perfectly normal for Jet to discuss me with Alfie. We share custody, but I’m curious if that’s all he says. I’m about to dig a little deeper, but he points and says, “The prairie dogs,” and runs to the see them.

* * *

With a hundred dollars left in my account, I spend twenty-five on gas and another twenty-five purchasing stuff for dinner and essentials for Jet’s fridge. He and Alfie will need them anyway.

Alfie helps me cook the chicken. He loved teasing me with the bits from the inside. Boys.

Fortunately, I bought a tin pan, considering how bare these cabinets are. While it roasts, he watches TV, and I watch him.

Fifty dollars isn’t going to get me far. I need to find work until the job with Jet begins. Fingers crossed it begins at all. I’ll find out more when he comes home.

Home.

Do I have a home anymore? If I walk away from Eileen, where will we go? I’m not leaving without Alfie, but fifty dollars is not enough to fight for custody. I’ll do anything for him.

Watching him giggle from something the rabbit did on TV makes me smile. His innocence needs to be protected. His right to like his dad needs to be defended.

Looking around Jet’s home, the level of comfort I feel here isn’t lost on me.

There are touches that are all man and so him—grays and black and rich brown woods mixed in. It’s eclectic with simple pieces that work together as if planned. I don’t really see him designing the space, but it’s not a mishmash of college crash pad either.

I wonder if I should sleep on the couch or if I dare get sucked into that little piece of heaven in the back room. Guess I’ll decide later.

Our evening comes and goes. Once Alfie’s sound asleep, I take a shower. The warm water rinses away some of the dirt of the day, but my soul still feels scathed. I scrub a little harder.

Giving in, I climb under his sheets. I don’t know when he washed them last, but I can smell his scent as it lingers on the cotton. I love it. I revel in it. Here in the peace of his little home, I don’t feel the guilt when I indulge in my memories of him. I get to enjoy them instead.

I’m not one to sleep without pajamas, but I opt for just a pair of panties because I love the way the soft sheets and warm blanket feels against my bare skin.

It’s not even ten p.m., but I’m so tired from the lack of sleep at Eileen’s lately that I find my eyes are heavy as soon as I lay my head down. Sleep comes even faster as my thoughts and worries fade away.

A chill covers me, and I tug at the blanket that’s fallen to my feet. When I can’t get warm, I open my eyes, my gaze landing first on the clock—3:30 a.m.—and then to the burning spec of orange by the window, and finally to the figure that’s so familiar I recognize him in the dark. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says after blowing smoke through a crack in the window.

Everything about him takes me back to our night without strings attached, problems to solve, or duties to fulfill. It was just us and the moonlight back then. Sleep starts to evade as my mind clears. “I thought you wouldn’t be home until later.”

“A story for the morning.”

My voice is low, fitting for the dark of night. “What are you doing?”

“Watching you.” His tone matches mine.

“What do you think about when you watch me?”

“Do you ever think about that night?”

“All the time.” I lift on my elbow and rest my head on my hand.

“Me too.”

“I like to watch you smoke, though I want you to quit.”

“What do you like about it?”

“The way you hold the cigarette pinched between your fingers, and the way you look when you inhale.”

He rests forward on his knees and looks at me. With his dark hair and matching eyes, he’s a nocturnal animal who sees me so clearly in the dark. “I almost climbed into that bed with you.” He stands, stubbing the butt into the ashtray. Moving with so much ease in who he is, he walks to the door. “I’ll take the couch.”

“You don’t have to.” I almost take it back as soon as I offer, but when his eyes land back on mine, his brow forming questions he doesn’t ask, I leave it out there for him to decide.

“Do you think that’s wise, Hannah?”

“No, but the offer still stands.”

“What are the conditions?”

“I’ll move to the couch before Alfie wakes up. That’s the only condition.”

And then he does that magical thing that men do—he grabs the shirt at the nape of his neck and pulls it off over his head.

The door is locked, and he’s standing at the end of the bed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I mean are you sure you can handle being in the same bed with me?” he asks, chuckling as he heads for the bathroom.

“Pfft. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“From the way you’re looking at me, I thought I should ask.”

“Oh, my God.” I roll my eyes and turn to my side. Busted. So busted. Don’t let him see the truth.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m so tired that I’ll fall asleep as soon as I climb in. You’ll just have to find something else to ogle.”

“Don’t even go there with me. I was not ogling.”

“Sure, you weren’t.” He closes the bathroom door, and the faucet is turned on.

While he brushes his teeth, I sit and fume in my irritation. I’m just not sure if I should be irritated with him for catching me or myself for staring in the first place.

Grabbing my pillow, I nestle my head under it. Maybe he won’t notice the mortification heating my cheeks.

The bed dips beside me, the weight of his muscular body causing me to roll toward him and crash into him. I remain steady in my hiding, pillow secured over me.

Lifting the pillow up, he bends his neck to catch my wide eyes. “It’s okay. I don’t mind you checking me out. I like you looking at me.”

I squeeze my eyes closed, hoping to wash away some of my embarrassment. It doesn’t work. “I was not checking you out. God, you’re so conceited, Jet. Just go to sleep.”

As soon as I open my eyes, his are wide this time. “You’re naked. In my bed.”

Gasping, my hands fly to cover my chest. “Shit.” I forgot. Is he mad? Did he see me? All of me? Sinking into the mattress, I try to slide farther down under the covers.

“Just in case you’ve forgotten, I’ve seen your body before and tasted all of you.”

My head whips to the side so my eyes can find his. “You can’t say things like that, Jet.”

“I just did and look, nothing bad happened.” Sometimes, I think he says stuff like that just to get a rise out of me. And it works every time. I’m about to give him an earful, but he presses a finger to my mouth. “Do you know how fucking sexy it is that you’re sleeping naked in my bed?”

A girl can only do so much fantasizing before she needs the real thing. Call me weak because damn I am when it comes to him. I know I shouldn’t, but I do it anyway. I don’t shrivel like a wallflower under his admiring gaze. I embrace who I am when I’m with him, the woman he reminds me I used to be, and come back up in full view of him.

I’m not drunk, but I feel tipsy around him. I’m tired of the outside world beating me down. I deserve to feel good. I deserve to forget my troubles for a little while.

I deserve to feel good.

I deserve this.

I deserve him.

“Kiss me, Jet.”