by Scott, S. L.
“What are the chances out of all the people in Austin, we hooked up only to find ourselves pitted against each other six months later?”
We’ll never truly get answers to how the world works, but I wish I could get a little insight into why I was put in the middle of this complicated mess.
Jet sets his guitar down and joins me on the swing. We swing back and forth a few times before he says, “I’m not going to talk about the sex that night because you get all flustered—”
“I do not.”
“You do. Like now. Your cheeks turn red, and you look at me with little lusty memories filling your head.”
So what if he’s right. I’ll never cop to it. Bumping against him, I take my annoyance out on him. Is it sad that I’m not really annoyed and acting like a fifth grader hitting the guy I like?
Like?
I can’t like Jet Crow.
Nothing good will come of it.
There’s no denying good has already come from it. No confession will change the circumstances, though. I’m not supposed to like him or maybe I’m not allowed to like him without feeling like I’m a traitor to my family.
He’s laughing lightly. When it subsides, he adds, “I was going to say that besides the sex you can’t stop thinking about, we had more than just a physical connection.”
“Jet,” I caution before we end up in a downward spiral of emotions we won’t know how to escape. “We shouldn’t talk about things we can’t change.”
“Why can’t we change things?”
“Alfie needs us. He’s so at ease with you already, but I have to focus on his well-being and what’s best for him.”
“Fine. We’ll talk about Alfie.” His tone flips to match his expression—hard lines across his brow and tight jaw as he gazes into the distance.
I want his eyes back on me. I want to ease those lines, smoothing them with care, like I’d want to do with our relationship. I’m close to going inside, worried it doesn’t matter what I say or do. We’re always going to be stuck in this purgatory. It’s best just to face it and accept that this is it between us. “He’s a great kid.”
“The best.” His shoulders appear to bear the same burdens, but like me, he fights his way back to what this is—reality. A small smile finally shines through the darkness. “It was fascinating to watch him today. His mind zooms from one thing to the next. He’s all over the place and smart.”
“So smart. Before I came to stay with them, he was already so self-sufficient. Cassie had been sick for a few years, and in the time before she got too weak, she taught him to take care of himself.”
“He made his cereal before I woke up.”
“If you’re not careful, he’ll have you convinced he can do anything and that he’s a regular adult.”
Understanding crosses his expression. “I can see that. I’ll make sure to keep him six as long as I can.”
Playing along, I say, “I promise to do the same.”
“You’ve done a lot for him, Hannah. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I love him.”
“I know you do. He loves you, too. He talks about you all the time. I definitely have a lot to live up to.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. He’s happy to have a dad in his life. You’re new.”
“And shiny?”
I agree. “It’s hard to compete with shiny.”
“There’s no one to compete with.” He nudges me. “You’re his Hannah. When I become the bad guy and he gets in trouble, you can swoop in and be the fun one.”
“He has Tulsa for that.”
“True.” I start laughing with her. It feels good to laugh this hard.
“The truth is, I’m not sure where I fit in anymore.”
He touches my hand. “Right here, Hannah.”
The sincerity of his words is sharp like arrows to my heart, reawakening every part of me to what’s right in front of me. “With you?”
“For Alfie,” he says quieter, all signs of the laughter I love to hear gone.
“Of course. Yeah.” I stand from the swing, my foolish heart about to beat out of my chest. “That’s what I meant.” I lie, trying to cover for my wrong assumption. I let hope tempt me down a path I knew better to travel. “You should probably get going.”
The squeak of the swing gets my attention. When I look back, he’s still sitting there, patting the spot I vacated seconds before. “I have a little time. Swing with me, Hannah.”
He’s enticing, but I think I should resist the offer after embarrassing myself not even a minute earlier. “I have some research I need to get back to.”
Pressing the heels of his shoes against the cement, the swing comes to a full stop. “What kind of research?”
“Nosy much?” I quirk an eyebrow and crack a smile.
“Yes. I’m very nosy when it comes to you.”
His words are harmless, nothing more than a flirtation, but he’s not laughing like I am. We’re not in the same place we once were, so I can’t fall under his spell . . . not again. I’ll keep my heart in check and my tone all business. “I didn’t expect to move here permanently when I came to Austin to help with Alfie. I’ve been here seven months and burned through my savings.”
“You need a job?”
“Yes.” Shifting, I lean against the doorframe. “With this new arrangement in place . . .” My heart clenches and my eyes burn with tears I haven’t had time to cry. “And Cassie passing, I need to figure out my next step.”
Leaning forward and resting his forearms on his legs, he clasps his hands together and looks up. “Can I ask you something, Hannah?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you the one fighting for Alfie and not Eileen?”
Cassie’s wish versus my aunt’s demands. Just thinking about my and Eileen’s fights has my hands sweating from anxiety. “It’s complicated.”
He looks down and nods. “Okay.” Pushing up off the swing, he says, “I need to get ready to leave soon.”
When he’s only a few inches away, his heat emanates as it blankets me in the subtle scent of his cologne, his breath has a faint smell of Marlboro cigarettes and spearmint gum.
My body freezes, my heart stopping, my breath catching under the intense soul-shattering gaze as he drinks me in and then shifts to the side. “Do you mind?” he asks with a sly smile.
I can’t look away, caught up in him. “Huh?”
“The door. Can I open the door?”
“Yeah, sure,” I reply not understanding.
When he laughs, he says, “Hannah, you’re blocking the door.”
Blocking the door . . . Oh! “Ohhh, sorry.” I move out of the way and let him by. Inwardly, I roll my eyes at myself. Ugh. So embarrassing.
Just inside the house, he stops and looks back. “Sometimes I see that same woman I met all those months ago. Your eyes are just as sad, but every so often, I see the blue shine through. It’s a good look for you.”
And without much effort on his part, my heart leaps through that doorway and becomes putty right in his hands again.
He’s right, though. I am sad. I’m sad that I met him when I did, when there was no chance of it becoming more. I’m sad because I lost my cousin to a cruel, painful disease. I’m sad because her little boy won’t have her in his life forever. But Alfie has Jet, and for that? I’m not sad at all. Alfie has a good man who will love him selflessly, and I can’t feel anything but thankful for that.
But my heart?
One moment, I’m holding my own against the intimidating Jet Crow. The next, my whole hate-the-man stance flies out the window.
Damn him.
11
Jet
Leaning against the tailgate of my truck, I toss the half-smoked cigarette and grind out the flame. A flame burned out too soon reminds me of the woman inside my house.
I grab my guitar case from the back and shake my head. It’s fucking ridiculous that one woman can consume my thoughts as she has.
<
br /> Hannah Nichols is a chick, just like any other. One night is generally a good policy to live by when it comes to letting women into my life. More than once becomes an obligation I have no current intentions of having right now. Add a major life change into the mix, and two nights is out of the fucking question.
I made that mistake with Marcy. Even tonight, she came catcalling, drunk with that look in her eyes. I could have fucked her in the parking lot. She offered. Or taken her in a bathroom stall with other people next door. Another offer that didn’t appeal to me.
That’s not who I am. A woman worth sticking my dick in is worth an actual date, but that’s not what Marcy wants. She wanted to fuck tonight when she came up after the show trying to pull my shirt up and my jeans down. Her sharp nails scratched my side when I removed her hands.
When I told her to find some other guy, a slap followed but was caught before impact. That was when the fun we’d had in the past was just that—over and done and in the past.
She doesn’t want me. Not really. She wants anyone who she can show off. She wants to cling to my minor fame around town. But ultimately, she wants something she knows she’ll never have again—me.
She’s a bad habit that never should have been and will never be again.
Marcy is nothing like Hannah.
That’s a big fucking problem for me since Hannah is the one who doesn’t see us as ever being more than opposing teams.
It would be wise for me not to think of her, but when I saw her standing outside my bedroom, my thoughts ran wild, sticking to me like glue all night. She was buried in every riff of my guitar, the notes that made the melody, the cheering of the crowd. She was at the forefront of my mind as if my muse had tracked me down just to haunt me even more.
What would have happened if I’d invited her all the way in? What would she have done if I had kissed her in the hallway? What harm would be done if we’d snuck in an encore? No one would know but the two of us.
The two of us . . . Hannah is the kind of trouble I don’t need right now. Being conflicted keeps her tied up in her head. Eileen is whispering shit in her ear that’s just not true. I can argue all day long, but Hannah is torn between us. Why would I torture myself by pursuing a woman who can’t see my truth?
Just because she’s sexy as fuck doesn’t mean she’s worth the time trying to convince her I’m worth the effort. The only problem is I don’t believe that shit myself.
Smart. Gorgeous. Strong. Independent. Feisty. She’s worth the trouble.
She’s the sort of woman I want in my life. And if I’m honest, I can see how good it would be to have a partner to come home to. For me and for Alfie. She’s worth every effort, but she doesn’t want me.
Maybe in time she’ll see in me what I see in her—worth the effort.
Until then, two’s a good number—Alfie and me.
I open the front door, expecting to get an irritated glare or a snarky remark. It would almost be warranted, considering it’s almost two in the morning.
But that’s not what I get.
Instead, I’m greeted with the stunning sight of a sleeping siren. Closing the door behind me, I’m as quiet as can be as I lock up. I set my guitar down and sit in a chair. What do I do? Wake her? Let her sleep? Move her to my bed? Send her home?
Sending her home is the last thing I want. I wonder how pissed off she’ll be if I don’t wake her. Leaning back, I like seeing her face free from worries and her body relaxed. I don’t want her to be uncomfortable, but she might kick my ass if I wake her.
I decide to leave her be for now. I brush my teeth and strip down to my boxers, kicking my clothes to the corner of the bathroom. I grab a pillow from my bed and go back into the living room to set it down.
She’s still asleep when I return. I watch her a minute before I get up and stand over her. Reaching down, I lift her into my arms. Light as a feather. I need to feed this woman more ramen and put some weight on her.
Just as I start to walk down the hall, her eyes open and her arms go around my neck. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you to bed.”
So what if I phrase it a specific way . . . I chuckle without shaking her.
“Okay,” she says, her eyes dipping closed.
Okay?
Don’t think my whole body doesn’t react to that response. I set her on the bed and pull the sheet and blanket over her as she snuggles in. I’m surprised she’s “okay” with this. When her breathing deepens I move to leave, but she reaches up and captures my hand. “Stay.”
Stay.
One word.
One request.
It would be so easy to slide in behind her and hold her until morning. I would sleep better than I have since she left the last time. The offer is tempting, just like she is.
But I’m thinking she’s not fully awake. If she was, she wouldn’t be asleep in my bed like everything’s A-OK. Her hand soon falls away, and she’s asleep before I have a chance to talk myself into climbing in this bed with her.
I close the door when I leave and peek in on Alfie. The nightlight allows me to see his sleeping form. Pulling the covers over an exposed foot, I also kiss his head before sneaking back out.
After grabbing a blanket from the closet, I settle on the couch with my pillow and cover up the best I can. My legs are too damn long, but sleeping out here is the right thing to do. Hannah would be furious if she found me sleeping next to her in the morning.
“Sleep on the couch,” I repeat, really for myself. I’ll stay here, even if the couch is lumpy and my feet hang off the side. I left a little piece of my heart in that back bedroom, but it doesn’t make sense why I’d even think that. Hannah and I are a lost cause that’s not going to be found between the sheets despite how good we are when we’re together.
I have to learn to stay away just like she wants.
* * *
My eyes burn.
My body tenses.
My mind is filled with too much groggy fog to reason through. What the fuck hour is it? Squinting an eye open, I’m greeted with an angel in a Crow Bros tee, flowing chestnut hair cascades over the side of her sweet face. I close my eye to see if she remains and if I can get lost in the dirty dreams I’m about to have. When she disappears behind my lids, I reopen my eyes to discover a dream come true. “Hannah.”
“How do you like your eggs?” Soft pink lips. Clear blue eyes. Her voice is only a whisper of the sweet sound of her melodic tone.
Reaching forward, I’m still precariously balanced between sleep and reality. Just to test if I’m awake, I touch her leg and my hand is promptly smacked. She stands and walks away. “He’ll take scrambled, Alfie.”
I lift on my elbow and see Alfie standing next to her at the stove, their backs to me. I forgot I was on the couch. No wonder my back hurts. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Morning, Jet. Hannah stayed. It was like a sleepover, but she slept in your room and not mine.”
Hannah smiles. “Next time, buddy.”
Alfie runs over and sits on the coffee table where Hannah was. “I have school today. Hannah’s going to take me. Will you pick me up?”
Ruffling his hair, I smile. “Course, bud. What time?”
He looks at Hannah, and my eyes follow. Hannah twirls a spatula like a pro. God, that woman’s sexy. “We could use a drummer,” I say. “Got any rhythm?” I know she does in the bedroom, but with the kid around, I keep it to myself.
With a wiggle of her hips, she smiles, and it’s so damn enticing. “I’ve got a few moves. But I don’t know anything about drumming.” Signaling toward Alfie, she adds, “School ends at two forty-five. You should get there around two thirty to find parking. You’ll have to wait for his class to come out, and when the teacher sees you, she’ll release Alfie into your care.”
“Sounds complicated.”
“It’s not.” She laughs. “Safety precautions. I’ll add you to the approved pick-up list.”
I sit all the way up an
d run my hands through my hair. I’m sure I look awesome at six thirty in the morning. Not really. “Approved pick-up list?”
“You have to be on the list to pick up Alfie.”
“Right. Safety precautions.” Maybe it’s because I’m running on four hours sleep, but I’m not feeling cut out for this job right now. Looking back at Hannah and Alfie, she’s moving through this routine like it’s second nature with a smile on her face.
Catching me watching them, she sets a plate down on the bar and tells him to eat. There’s something in her eyes I’m not able to read from here, so silently I ask, “What?”
After taking a seat next to me, she leans in and quietly says, “You can do this, Jet.”
She sees through me, right into my mind, touching on my insecurities. “Do what?”
Nodding toward Alfie, she gives me a reassuring smile. “It’s easier than it sounds. Showing up is what matters most.”
I have a feeling it’s not just school she’s talking about. Her wisdom extends beyond the words. Moving the tips of my fingers under the tips of hers resting on her thigh, I tap. “Message received.”
Not sure what happens, but her smile fades and her lips part as she stares at our hands. When I see how she stiffens, I pull back. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.” Licking her lips, she tugs one side of the bottom one under her teeth. She’s standing too soon for my liking.
Alfie drops his dishes in the sink with a clatter and says, “All done. Come eat your eggs, Jet.”
“I’ll eat, but you need to brush your teeth.”
When he rushes down the hall, I get up and find a plate waiting for me with a mug of coffee next to it. “You cook, you make coffee, and you’re great with kids.”
“Don’t say it, Crow. I have dreams of my own to pursue.”
Guess they don’t include me . . . we’ll see about that. I take a sip. Perfect brew. “What are your dreams?”
She pauses, studying me. “My dreams?”
“Yeah. Your dreams.”
