TWENTY-EIGHT

Dagne

The damn washer mystifies me. I’ve stood in this same spot for an absurd amount of time, simply trying to figure out which of the two slots I pour the powder into. Damn it. The fact my mind keeps wandering back to Hooch and how he looked might have something to do with my lack of focus.

Right. I’m going with right.

My hand’s poised over the compartment, powder spilling in an avalanche of lavender goodness, when I’m assailed from my left.

Washing powder goes everywhere.

My feet scramble for traction.

And before I can fully comprehend what’s just happened, a mountain of a man has wrapped himself around me. One man, to be exact: Hooch.

“You okay?” I tentatively place my arms around him, completing the circle.

“I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you.” The steady rise and fall of his back as he sucks in deep breaths complement the warm gusts that pepper my neck. He’s tall, so much broader and stronger than me, but in this moment he seems so fragile.

“Well, here I am.” I rest my forehead on his collarbone; his body arced in order for him to rest his face on my shoulder. My arms slip lower to his waist, and in the confines of the clubhouse laundry room, I finally find peace.

All this time I’ve been searching for a place that sets my soul at ease, when all along it was a person.

The things we learn …

I inhale deeply, relishing the smell of a warm masculine body encasing mine as he squeezes me a little, almost as though he’s reassuring himself we’re doing this. In all honesty, I’m wondering if it’s a dream too.

Hooch softens, and then pulls back, leaving his hands rested on my waist as he stares down into my no doubt shocked and confused expression. His mouth opens ever so slightly, and I find myself hanging by a thread for his words, but he snaps his lips closed and looks over his shoulder at the open door instead, huffing. Cool air taunts me as he steps away to shut us in, the loss of the closeness I never knew I was seeking so sudden and confronting.

“Can we talk?” He appears so unsure of himself, as though the idea that I would want to converse with him is ludicrous.

“Of course.”

You’d think I just gifted him a puppy with the way his eyes light up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I kick the pile of dirty denim at our feet to the side, clearing a space for us both to sit. He watches as I fold my legs, and then reach up take his hand and tug it, coaxing him down to join me.

Seeing him contort his broad and tall frame into a pretzel is entertaining to say the least. God only knows how, but he manages it.

“Where did you go?” I ask.

He looks … rough. Given the guy isn’t exactly the clean-shaven and well pressed type to begin with. But his eyes are dark and haunted, his complexion paler than I remember. He seems tired.

“It doesn’t matter,” he answers, dropping his head against the wall.

“Tell me what does then?”

He rolls his head my way, pinning me with a confused stare.

“Something’s clearly upset you,” I elaborate. “So something matters right now, otherwise you wouldn’t have come barreling in here seeking comfort.”

I swear if his face wasn’t covered with that beard I would have seen him blush. “I, uh …” He lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck, the chain attached to one of his leather cuffs jingling as he does. “That behavior isn’t usual for me.”

I point to the washer across from us. “Neither is this for me.”

He laughs, and I vow then and there to stay with the Aces for as long as I can keep getting him to do so. It’s a beautiful sound, and one I suspect isn’t heard as much as it should be.

“I wanted to ask your opinion on something.”

“Me?” What knowledge would I have of his world that he’d need?

“Yeah. I want a neutral viewpoint on it.”

Whatever he needs, I’ll do it. “Shoot.” Isn’t that exactly what I was hoping for in the barn?

He pulls in a deep breath, letting it out slowly before he speaks. “If you knew that your influence on a situation wasn’t a positive one, is it still quittin’ if you walk away from it?”

“I don’t think I fully understand what you’re talking about.”

He rubs a hand over his face, and something in that indication of doubt makes me yearn to snuggle in tight again to reassure him he’s doing okay.

“I want to step down as president.”

“Why?” I might not know much, but I’ve pretty much got it locked down that the position is a revered one.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for it anymore.”

“Because of what happened at the clearing, with you shooting the cop?”

He chuckles. “No, fairy. Because I don’t think someone as weak as me has earned the right to sit at the head of the table. They need someone strong, someone who doesn’t wish he could spend all day in his bed without havin’ to talk to a single person.”

I frown as I shift around to face him fully, trying to work out what exactly is weak about him. “You seem pretty strong to me.”

“That’s because you don’t know me that well.”

“I know you well enough to remind you that choosing to get up and face your demons each day is the strongest thing you can do.”

His lips twitch in a sort of smile, and his eyes soften. He knows I’m right—he just won’t admit it. He’s stronger than he realizes.

“Tell me,” I coax. “What have you done that makes you think you’re weak, not good enough to lead others anymore?”

“It’s what I haven’t done,” he stresses. “I … since Dana and Dad …” He presses his lips tight, shaking his head. “I don’t even know where to start with this shit.”

“Just give it to me as it comes,” I say with a shrug. “I’m pretty good at piecing things together.”

He locks his gaze with mine, and in the space between the dark brown flecks of his eyes, I see hope. He finds something in me, something he seeks but doesn’t understand. And I get that, because I’m searching it out too.

“You’re too good to be true, you know that?”

I look away, sure if I hold his gaze a second longer he’s going to find a pipeline to my innermost thoughts. I’m not ready to be that open yet. I’ve got to understand the way I feel about him before I can share it.

“I just do what I’d hope others would do for me.”

He reaches out and threads his fingers under mine, bringing our joined hands between us on the floor. “Do you think it’s weak if a man admits his fears?”

I frown, squeezing his hand tight. “No.” Why would he even think that? “I think it’s honorable. It takes so much bravery to admit you have faults.”

“You think?”

“I know.” After all, aren’t I the authority on keeping faults a secret?

He sniffs, staring at the toes of his boots where they rest against the base of the washer. “Since everything went to shit last year, I get … I guess the only way to describe it is angry at myself.”

“What for? Do you blame yourself for what happened?”

His head drops back again, and he closes his eyes as his thumb traces a path on the back of my hand. “Yeah, but I know I shouldn’t. Still, knowin’ what I’m thinkin’ is wrong doesn’t make it go away. I still blame myself for everything, still hate myself for it.”

“That’s natural, though. You went through something traumatic, from what you’ve said of it, so you’ve got strong reactions that need a place to rest.”

“I went on a bender after they died,” he explains, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling. “Drank, binged on coke, picked fights with my friends, and it wasn’t until I couldn’t remember what it was like to be straight that I finally realized why I did it.”

“Distraction?”

“Because I want to die.”

A lump lodges in my throat as I take him in. At face value he’s strength and dominance. He’s a huge guy, intimidating to those who don’t know him, with his black clothing, leather, and piercings. He puts out an image of power, over others, and himself. But underneath it all he hides this.

“Don’t,” I utter. “Don’t say that again.”

“Why?” He rolls his head to look me in the eye. “It’s the truth, Dagne. I don’t want to do this anymore. Every day is hard. I wake up wishin’ it was time to go to sleep again, dreadin’ the day before it’s even happened.” His face moves through frustration and anger, glimpses of pain and despair between. “You have any idea what it’s like to just want to curl up in a ball and pretend the world doesn’t exist?”

“Yeah, I do,” I say. “I also know what it’s like to wish for death. To know you’re too gutless to do it yourself, so you hope for something that’ll do it for you, like an illness, an accident, or a sadistic fucking father who hates the fact you breathe the same air as him.” Hooch’s eyes go wide, and I realize in that moment tears streak my cheeks. But fuck it—he needs to hear it. “I also know what it’s like to be hurt so bad that you finally believe that day has come, and in that second your foolishness and selfish thoughts come back to haunt you. What it’s like to realize when you’re faced with your own mortality that you don’t want to die … you just wish you were someone else, living another life.”

“Dagne—”

“Ah.” I lift my finger to stop him. “Nope. I’m not finished, mister.”

A small smile plays at the corner of his lips, and he reaches out to wipe my tears. “Carry on.”

“What you have to face is that you have the power to be somebody else. Fuck what your head tells you, Hooch. Your mind is a goddamn liar. It feeds off your fear, shows you your flaws while hiding your strengths. If you’re not happy,” I say, jabbing him in the chest, “change it. Do something about it. But don’t quit.”

“I’ve tried.” He captures my hand, focusing on the flesh of my palm as he traces the lines with his finger. “I really have, but my battery’s run dry, girl.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “It hasn’t. You just haven’t found what charges it yet.”

“I can’t change the way I feel overnight.”

I wrap my fingers around his, scooting closer. “No, you can’t. But you can promise to stick about until you do. You might think nobody cares about you, but I can guarantee there’s a whole room of men out there who’d miss the hell out of you if you checked out.”

His warm eyes rove my face, the heat from his breath having the opposite effect on my flesh as goose bumps ripple across my chest and arms. “Me sayin’ that really got to you, huh?”

“Yeah,” I admit, the damn lump shifting back to my throat. “It did.”

“Why?”

His whispered word wraps around the space between us, tugging at my resolve to keep a safe distance from him while I worked this out for myself. “Because I think you were right; our paths were meant to cross.”

He nods, pain in his eyes, but relief in the smile he offers. “Yeah, I feel that too, fairy. I feel it too.”