CHAPTER 6
Hannah
I pull up in front of Nelson’s house, a red-tiled, five-thousand-square-foot stuccoed monstrosity that he kicked me out of when I asked for a divorce. Which was fine. I never liked its formality anyway. There was too much blank space to feel cozy.
Still, it irritates me just a little that he continues to live in splendor, has my daughter almost exclusively, and takes child support from me, not because he needs it but because he wants me to suffer.
None of that compares to the bitterness I must swallow daily when I think of the way I got hosed in Hope’s custody hearing. My attorney was decent, but I could have had the best in the world and it wouldn’t have mattered because the judge was one of Nelson’s golfing buddies. He tried to make it seem like he fairly considered all the facts but when he awarded full custody to Nelson, granting me weekend visitation with alternating holidays, I knew that the judicial system was anything but unbiased.
When it boiled down to it, Nelson’s connections, money, and influence swayed the court, not what was in Hope’s best interest.
It’s been hell watching him raise her with me having so little say in what happens in her day-to-day life. Our moments together are so fleeting. It makes me feel like she’s slipping away from me.
It’s unbearably frustrating that my economic situation is what is holding me back from playing on a level field with Nelson.
My mind drifts briefly to Asher and his incredibly ridiculous offer, and there’s a moment of wistfulness as I consider what that bonus could do for Hope and me.
Pushing that out of my head, I turn the rearview mirror my way to take a quick peek at myself. I didn’t get home from work until about three AM, and I couldn’t get to sleep weighed down by my worries about Hope and Asher’s bold offer to be his “house manager”.
Ridiculous.
I sigh, disregarding the black circles under my eyes and the fact I didn’t even bother to put on makeup this morning to cover them up. Pushing the mirror back into place, I get out of my car, taking only my keys with me.
After I lock the car, I cross over Nelson’s perfectly manicured lawn to the large portico. I trot up the steps, ring the doorbell, and step back to wait for him to make his way through the cavernous house to greet me. Sometimes, I’ll hear the patter of Hope’s feet as she races to the door in excitement to start our short weekend together.
Right now, I get nothing but silence.
I ring the doorbell again.
When no one comes, I finally hit the button repetitively, hearing the gong of the bells inside over and over again.
Nothing.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, stomping off the porch and back to my car. I unlock the passenger door, reach into my purse, and pull my phone out, angrily tapping on the screen to pull up Nelson’s number.
I dial him, and he answers in a breezy tone. “Hello?”
“Where are you?” I growl. “I’m here to pick up Hope.”
“She’s on a camping trip,” he replies with a smirking undertone. “I texted you about it yesterday.”
“You did not text me about it,” I grit out, my voice quavering with fury.
“I did,” he insists, and I can see the smug look on his face in my mind. If he were here before me, I’d claw it off him. “It’s not my fault you’ve got a shitty phone. It probably didn’t come through or something, but when I didn’t hear back from you, I just assumed it was okay.”
“You are an asshole,” I screech. “You know I wouldn’t have agreed to it. I get so little time with her, and I would not have let her go.”
“She really wanted to, Hannah,” he chides me. “You know, it’s not all about you. You have to let Hope do stuff without you.”
My body starts shaking over the unfairness of what he’s saying—as well as the little bit of truth within.
Sucking in a breath, I let it out slowly. “Fine. Then I want her on Monday and Tuesday night to make up for it.”
Nelson laughs through the phone. “What are you going to do, Hannah? Have her sit up at the bar while you serve drunks?”
My free hand balls up into a fist, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t even fucking have my kid on a weeknight because I have to work to be able to support her. It’s fucked up and incredibly unfair.
Tears spring to my eyes. I blink furiously to battle them back. It doesn’t work, and they slip down my cheeks.
“Listen,” Nelson says dismissively. “I’ve got to go. But I’ll make sure to tell Hope when she comes home tomorrow that you don’t want her to go on any trips with friends in the future. I’m sure she’ll love you for that.”
“Don’t you dare,” I hiss, but all I can hear is dead air.
The asshole hung up on me.
“Goddamn motherfucker,” I scream as I turn and slap my hand against the hood of my car. The shock reverberates through me, causing my bones to ache.
The anger starting to swiftly turn to depression, I make my way around to the driver’s side and throw myself into the front seat. Just as I start my car, a text chimes through. I have an insane thought that perhaps Nelson has had an attack of conscience and is reaching out to make things better.
When I look down at my phone, I’m hit with another punch of despair to my gut.
It’s not from Nelson, but from Toby, my brother.
There’s a Fender guitar at a pawn shop that’s an incredible deal. Can you loan me $200?
A maniacal laugh comes unbidden, and I think I might be cracking up under all this stress.
From the weight of all the things pulling at me.
No, I write back.
It’s a short, curt response from me, and he quickly responds. No worries. Thanks anyway.
He even puts a kissing face emoji.
I had a hand in raising Toby and Frank because my mom worked herself to the bone to be able to afford rent, utilities, and food. She waited tables at a honky-tonk bar in rural South Carolina where the pay was horrible and the tips even worse. I admire the hell out of her for it.
I toss my phone back in my purse, then head back across town to my house where I suppose I’ll spend a lonely day laying on my couch watching sad movies.
I’m strangely blank as I make the fifteen-minute drive, refusing to let my mind obsess over my shitty situation. If I had to put a name to the numbness starting to creep through me, I might even label it as “giving up”.
“It’s okay,” I tell myself gently. “You can give up this hard fight. No one would think badly if you did. It’s not winnable anyway.”
Maybe I should give up. Move away. Hope might be better off without such a mother in her life. What could I possibly give her? What lessons could I even teach her when I can’t even support her or myself?
I come from a family that has always slogged through hard times. Perhaps I should move back to South Carolina to live with my mom. There’s no shortage of bartending jobs there.
I’m beyond mired in depression by the time I pull up to the curb bordering the small, dusty front yard that is my abode. It’s in a terrible section of town, but the rent is affordable, which is all that matters.
I dejectedly haul myself out of my car, so lost in my own misery I don’t hear the vehicle pull up behind me.
It’s not until someone says, “Excuse me… are you Hannah Madigan?” that I snap out of it and turn that way.
My stomach cramps as I see an overweight man heading toward me from the tow truck that just pulled up to the curb. He’s carrying a clipboard. Even though I don’t acknowledge his question, he goes on to say, “I’m here to take your vehicle.”
Just fucking great.
I snatch my purse out of the car, then set it on the hood. Without a word to the man, I get in the backseat, unlatch Hope’s car seat, and yank it free. After I set it on the ground, I close the door with a bump of my hip before angrily removing the car key from the key ring. When it’s free, I toss it at the repo man. It’s an unexpected move, and he drops his clipboard as he tries to catch it.
I don’t look back at him, though. Instead, I grab my purse and the car seat, then move across my yard to my house.
Yes, it would be so easy right now to just give up on everything.
Instead, as soon as I step over the threshold and close the front door behind me, I call Asher.
He answers, not with smug anticipation but rather a guarded question. “Have you changed your mind?”
“I have,” I respond smoothly and with a confidence that shocks me since I was contemplating throwing in the towel just moments ago. “I accept your offer on the condition that I have weekends off.”
“That wasn’t part of the deal, Hannah. I want you at my beck and call, and that means whenever my fancy strikes me.”
“Then find another ‘house manager,’” I say with quiet sarcasm that I should bear such a ludicrous title. “Because I need weekends off. It’s non-negotiable.”
I’m not giving up one more minute of my time with Hope, and I’m going to use that crazy signing bonus to hire an attorney first thing on Monday. I’m going to fight Nelson for joint physical custody, and I’m not going to stop until I succeed.
Even if that means I have to suck Asher’s cock Monday through Friday.
Although I grudgingly admit it doesn’t really sound like a chore to me.
Regardless, I have a new plan of action. I’m going to make this work for Hope and me.
He’s quiet, and I panic for a moment that the deal might be blown. My mind scrambles to find a middle ground with him, but it’s not needed.
Asher’s words are nonchalant. “Be here at eight AM on Monday.”
“I’ll be there,” I clip out with a modicum of geniality in my voice. He is my employer after all. “But I need to have Monday afternoon off to take care of something personal.”
“Fine,” he mutters. “But you’re going to the club with me Monday night.”
“Fine,” I snap.
“Fine.” This time, he adds a low, sexy laugh. “Maybe we can work out some of that aggression you seem to be harboring right now. I like a little rough, angry sex. Don’t you?”
A shiver tickles up my spine at the prospect. My sex life wasn’t overly adventurous with Nelson, so I have no clue if I like it rough or not.
Something tells me, however, that I’d probably like anything Asher offers, so I throw caution to the wind by taunting, “Do your worst, Asher.”
“Be careful,” he warns in a low growl. No doubt he wants to strip away any fake aura of confidence I might be trying to fool him with. “I’m of the firm belief that pain enhances pleasure. I can’t wait to teach that to you.”
My brain fuzzes up a bit at the prospect, an ache forming between my legs. While I have no clue if I would even like such a thing, my body clearly is interested in the concept.
I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into with this man, but there’s no turning back now.
As of this moment, he’s the key to getting my daughter back.