I wasn’t nervous because it was Friday and timing was tight. By my calculations, I’d have just enough of it to watch Mamie’s recital, maybe be with Hixon after she was done as he gave her the big bouquet of flowers he’d brought with him, before I had to take off and get to the Dew Drop. There, I had to slap on some extra makeup, do something with my hair, pull on my dress and be onstage for the first of my sets, which thanks to Gemini being cool, started that night at nine thirty not my usual eight thirty.
No, I was nervous because I’d been able to talk Hix out of pressing me into going to see any of Corinne’s volleyball games because I didn’t want to be too in your face to Hope about my place in Hix’s life so soon after they’d established their détente. Even if it made timing to get to the Dew tight, I went to all the home football games with Hix because Raider Field was larger, more open and seemed safer, for Hope and for me. The gymnasium seemed more closed in, smaller, with less opportunity to be able to put space between us.
I felt guilty about this because Corinne definitely wanted me to go see a game. She didn’t come right out and say it but I could tell by her demeanor when the Drakes talked about the games around me that she was disappointed I didn’t show. And the season was almost over. Not to mention, it hadn’t been days since Hix and Hope sorted things out, it was now weeks. I needed to hit a game.
But Mamie’s dance recitals didn’t come around very often. The next one was a Christmas show that would heavily feature the younger dancers, with no solos, while this one was about the older girls, and specifically Mamie, who had a solo. The next big recital wasn’t until spring and it wasn’t a given she’d have a solo.
So I had to attend.
I wanted to attend.
However, the auditorium was even smaller than the gymnasium and Hope and her entire family would be there.
So I was nervous. I didn’t want an incident. And Hope had proven to be like my mom in some respects, especially the ones where you couldn’t predict when she might pull something.
This was why we hadn’t brought Andy. It sucked because he’d wanted to come. But if some scene was to play out, I didn’t want it to play out in front of him, especially in public. He had an excuse for his unpredictability, but he was still unpredictable, and if something should happen, I could deal. I didn’t want Andy to have to deal too.
We’d promised he could go to the Christmas recital. I just hoped Hope would carry on as she was so he actually could.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Hix whispered in my ear as we walked down the aisle, the attention we were getting something we always got because Hix was Hix, I was with him, all that had gone on had gone on, and that came with the territory.
“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled.
“Babe,” he said as he stopped us beside a row but didn’t start leading us in.
I looked up at him.
“It’s been weeks. And this is Mamie’s night. She’s makin’ an effort. I know her, Greta. Can’t say I fully understood the games she played over the last year but the woman we’re dealin’ with now I know well. She loves her daughter. She’s not gonna screw up this night for her.”
Before I could reply, I heard, “Hix, son. Greta, darlin’. Good to see you both.”
We turned to see Jep and his wife Marie standing close.
Jep had his hand raised.
Hix took it, shook it, offered a greeting to them both and let Jep go to move in and kiss Marie’s cheek.
Jep then moved in to kiss mine before Marie moved in to give me an awkward hug.
We settled in our uncomfortable huddle with eyes all over the auditorium on us and Jep said, “Lookin’ forward to watchin’ our little girl wow us tonight.”
“Yeah,” Hix replied.
“Heard . . .” Marie started, stopped, and started again. “Heard that cute thing you did on Halloween, Greta. Mamie told us all about it. Reckon all the kids in town’ll be goin’ up Hixon’s walk next October thirty-first.”
I smiled at her and at the kind way she made it plain she thought I’d be with Hix next Halloween and she was (relatively) okay with that.
“Best buy more candy then,” I replied.
She smiled back and I turned when a man’s voice said, “Ma, Dad, we need to find our seats.”
It was then I saw one of Hope’s brothers standing not close but not far. But how he was standing was turned slightly to the side, his arm up behind him toward Hope, like he was holding her back because she faced some physical threat from Hix and me.
“Reed, have you met Greta?” Jep asked.
“Heard enough about the woman, don’t need to meet her,” Reed replied.
I stilled.
Hix turned fully to Reed, his frame set in a way that was more than a little alarming, but the vibe coming off him was beyond alarming.
“Reed!” Marie snapped like he wasn’t whatever-age-he-was (I was guessing mid-forties) but instead about eight.
“Son, this is not—” Jep started.
“Reed, for crap’s sake,” Hope hissed, rounded her brother’s arm and got closer to all of us in order to whisper irately, “Don’t be a dick.”
This time it was Hix who grew still.
I blinked.
“Hix, pretty flowers, Mamie’ll love them,” she said to Hixon and looked to me. “Hey, Greta. Sweet you can make it. Mamie was hoping you could.”
My mind was tumbling with things to try to catch onto in order to push out a reply, but Hope kept talking before I got the chance to say a word.
“Now the curtain will be up soon and seats are filling so we should find some. Hix, Greta, enjoy,” she bid us then started hustling along.
It was then I got over my surprise and noted how much that took out of her because she didn’t do it for the audience of onlookers who were watching with avid interest. She did it for Hix. For Mamie. And maybe for me.
But it hurt her to do it.
It hurt a great deal.
“Hope’s right, we best be gettin’ on. Take care, you two,” Jep said, and he led Marie after Hope.
Her brother Reed glared at us as he stomped past but her other brother stopped, said hello to Hixon and so did Jessie, his wife. Molly, Reed’s wife, who looked fit to be tied, also stopped, forcing a smile at me in between glaring at her husband’s back.
They left.
Hix guided me into the row, right in the middle, where we could see everything. It was also four rows back from where Hope and her family settled, also right in the middle.
Hix took my hand.
I pulled in a deep breath.
“That cost her,” I whispered trying not to stare at the back of Hope’s head.
“Yeah,” Hix whispered back.
I turned eyes up to him. “You okay?”
He looked down at me. “Sure. You?”
I nodded.
He bent in and touched his mouth to mine.
When he pulled back a couple of inches, he grinned gently and said softly, “This is gonna work.”
I grinned back and nodded.
“You think we’ll miss complicated?” I asked.
He settled in, eyes to the stage, muttering, “It’ll come back, sweetheart. So let’s enjoy this while it lasts.”
I knew he was not wrong.
What I didn’t know was how heartbreaking it would be when he was proved right.
I was up in my bathroom putting the final touches on when the doorbell rang.
I turned and stared at the opened doorway to my bathroom, frowning and wondering who that could be.
It couldn’t be Hix. I’d given him a key. He’d come right in the side kitchen door and shout, “Babe!” to let me know he was there seeing as that’s what he always did when he showed and I wasn’t on my porch.
But I was expecting Hix. We had a reservation for Jameson’s that night. It was Tuesday, a kickoff to a big week that included Thanksgiving Thursday.
And I couldn’t wait to have what was really our first, official, just-him
-and-me romantic date (we’d been to the Harlequin together repeatedly, we went out with the kids and/or Andy also repeatedly, we met his friends at the Outpost often, and once we went to a movie together, but that was just a date, not a romantic one).
I was totally looking forward to it.
But what I really couldn’t wait for was Thanksgiving.
The kids were spending the morning and early afternoon with Hope and her family at her mom and dad’s ranch, and then they were coming to my place for pie and more football. In the meantime, Andy, Toast, Tommy, Lou, Maple, Snow and Bill were coming over, and obviously Hix would be there, and we were doing dinner together with the added goodness of the kids being there in the evening.
This was a bigger occasion than just our first family holiday together, because in all this time, the kids had never been to my house. Hix and I had talked about me making them dinner but with them at their mom’s half the time, games, dates, practices, me singing at the Dew Drop, we could never get anything scheduled (ditto that for our date at Jameson’s).
As much as I’d wanted that to happen, things worked out the way they should and I loved it that the first time they’d be in my house, at my table, was Thanksgiving. A family day. When Andy and Hix’s friends, and Lou and her family would be there.
But right at that moment, I loved that Hix had made reservations at Jameson’s for a special date for just him and me where I could wow him with my new dress (forest-green, chunky cable-knit, slinky, clingy sweater dress with a cowl neck).
I’d ordered an amazing pair of fawn suede booties to go with it. I had big hair and smoky eyes. I knew Hixon was a sure thing, but I also knew that he thought I was beautiful and loved the way I dressed, so I was hoping that sure thing would get (even more than usually) inspired after sitting through dinner that night with me wearing that dress.
What I didn’t love was having an unknown caller when Hix was due any minute and I hadn’t put on the finishing touches.
Since they were unknown and Hix was due, I decided to go through those finishing touches, hoping it was someone who wanted to guide my path to Jesus or something like that, and who would take a hint when I didn’t open the door. But I did it in a hurry just in case it was something else.
So when the doorbell rang again, I was putting my gold hoop earrings in at the same time zipping up my booties, going back and forth between each.
I finished with the last earring after I got the second bootie on and hurried down the stairs toward the door.
When I hit the bottom, I became confused. Through the sheer curtain, silhouetted by the outside light, I could see a hulking frame that could be Hix’s but also couldn’t because he’d come right in.
Maybe he’d lost his keys.
Though if he did that, he’d phone me.
I hastened to the door, pulled the curtain aside and stared in shock up at Keith who had noticed me and was staring down at me.
What in the hell?
In that moment of surprise, I took him in. His brown hair. His beautiful straight nose. His big, brown eyes. His square, clean-shaven jaw. His broad shoulders.
He was maybe an inch taller than Hix, but though his build was strong and could not be described as lean, it was somehow less substantial than Hix’s. Hix had slightly more bulk, but since it was all muscle, it gave his frame that nuance of added power.
Keith had the body of a tight end.
Hix had the body of a linebacker.
“Greta,” I heard him clip, and it was then I saw he was not only surprisingly there, standing on my porch, unexpected, at six twenty-seven at night, two days before Thanksgiving, he was doing it pissed.
What in the hell?
I quickly unlocked the door, pulled it open and only noticed then he’d already opened my storm door and was standing in it.
I then immediately scuttled back because he was forcing his way in.
“Keith, what . . . I . . . hey. What are you doing here?”
He looked me up and down and he did it seeming strange, like he was holding himself in check and the effort to do that was immense.
Suddenly, he lost that battle and reached out with both hands, yanking me to him and wrapping his arms around me tight as I stood in them, my hands held slightly out to the sides because I didn’t know what to do with them and I had no clue what was going on.
“God, God, God, honey,” he whispered into the top of my hair. “God. Okay. I’m here. It’ll be okay. I’ll make you safe.”
I stared at his jacket in my face and it took a few seconds before I pushed out, “What?”
“He won’t hurt you again. I’ll get you safe. I’ll get Andy safe. We’re going home.”
Safe?
Home?
I was home.
I blinked at his jacket and repeated, “What?”
He transferred his hands to either side of my face, tipping it back and coming right in.
I stiffened entirely as his mouth brushed mine and I hadn’t recovered from the shock as he pulled back, and that shock deepened when he spoke.
“I fucked up. I knew it then,” he whispered. “I just couldn’t see past it. It tore me apart but I couldn’t see past it. Then Tawnee called me. Told me what was happening. Showed me what was happening. And I saw past it. Now I’m here. I’m here to make it all better. I’m here to get us back to where we’re supposed to be.”
Oh no.
What had my mother done?
I carefully tried to pull back, starting, “Keith—”
And then it happened.
Coming from the direction of the kitchen, we both heard, “What the fuck?”
It was Hix.
I tore myself from Keith’s hold and turned to Hix, watching him prowl down the hall from the kitchen, past the dining room, his eyes darting from me to Keith, his face carved from granite, his gait beyond aggressive straight to hostile.
I began to move to him, opening my mouth to speak.
But Keith hadn’t needed a chance to recover.
He was approaching Hix in the same manner and doing it talking.
“You are no longer welcome here.”
That jolted me out of my inactivity, that and the fact that Hix’s face changed to incredulous fury, not to mention they were about to connect in a way it looked like both of them would be thrilled to start brawling in my living room.
I ran directly to them, shouting, “No!”
They had fists raised, torsos twisted to put power behind whatever they were going to do, but I shoved in between them, hands to Hix’s chest, pushing him back (he wouldn’t budge), so I twisted my torso and kept one hand in Hix’s chest and added a hand to Keith’s chest and shrieked, “Stop it!”
“Greta, step aside,” Hix ordered, his hand to my waist trying to make that so.
But I held steady even if I wanted to scream or stamp my foot or at least glare at him, because he was ready to throw down and not only did he not know what was happening (as, I will point out, neither did I), he didn’t even know who Keith was (though, he was the sheriff, he probably could guess).
“Calm down, Hix,” I hissed and looked to Keith. “Step back, Keith.”
“Greta, move,” Keith growled.
“No!” I snapped then shouted, “Step back, Keith! Right now!”
His eyes cut down to mine. “Do not protect this man. I know what he is. I know he’s got you twisted up. And I know I’m gonna get you free.”
“Okay, that. That right there,” I stated, shoving into Keith’s chest (who also didn’t budge) standing firm between them, my other hand still to Hix’s chest, “needs to be explained because I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“You do,” Keith retorted.
“I do not,” I asserted.
“Then you’re twisted up more than Tawnee said you were.”
God!
My mother!
“Keith, you realize you’re spouting shit Mom told you, and first, you know anything she s
ays is suspect, and second, you know anything she says that’s suspect is also bullshit. So putting that together, pretty much everything out of her mouth is pure bullshit.”
“I have pictures,” he declared.
“Pictures of what?” I asked.
At that, thankfully, he stepped back (though unfortunately not very far), his gaze slicing to Hix’s face as he pulled his phone out of his back pocket.
He engaged it not looking at it but eventually looked down only to lift it up and turn it our way.
I was pretty certain I gasped but I was too busy staring in complete and utter disbelief with a healthy mingling of being creeped right the fuck out at the picture on the screen.
It was of me with the shiner Andy gave me. I was walking from my Cherokee toward the salon.
“Not enough?” Keith asked snidely, but I didn’t take my eyes from the screen when his finger came up and he swiped the picture to the side.
My stomach dropped at what I saw next, and Hix growled, “Jesus Christ,” from behind me as we were treated to a picture of Hix pinning me up against the shelves at the grocery store, the photo taken during the part where he had his hand locked on my neck and his face right in mine.
“Want more?” Keith asked antagonistically, and another swipe showed a photo of me with my nose completely taped up after the kitchen incident, the photo taken while Hix was escorting me to his Bronco that Monday in order to take me to the hospital to have my dressing changed.
“More?” Keith went on, swiping again, and we had a photo of me, again walking into the salon, but this time with only tape on my nose, however the bruising under my eyes was horrendous. “I don’t know what hold this asshole has on you, Greta, but it ends now.”
I looked from the phone to him, feeling Hix pressing into my hand in his chest so I removed it but moved in a way his chest was now pressing into my back and I was returning that, leaning into him.
“Keith, Hix didn’t do those things to me.”
“Yeah, your mother said you’d say that. Small town, fucked-up, shady sheriff gettin’ away with fucking with women. He’s got power. He’s got authority. He’s got ways to fuck with your life and make bad shit turn nasty, so you can’t get away.” His gaze lifted beyond me to Hix. “Wife got fed up, yeah? Took years of it then finally kicked your ass out? So you had to go lookin’ for fresh meat.”
Complicated Page 50
