Tommy says I need to hear him out, but Tommy didn’t get a visit from Alex Offerman the way I did. I wish the fact Alex somehow knew where I moved was the scariest part of his visit, but it wasn’t—not even close.
All I have to do is close my eyes and I’m right back in that conversation, mind reeling with panic, instantly hatching plans and constructing a web of lies that would keep Bristol safe.
Three Years Earlier
I wonder how long I can manage to do this job without someone realizing I’m pregnant. I can scrub toilets pregnant, right? I can definitely take out the trash and push that cart around the empty halls and workshop rooms. The smells and chemicals, however? Those might become a problem.
It took me a little more than two hours to get through everything on the custodial list tonight. Ruben, the head janitor, seems really nice. It’s only my second day at the gig and he already told me to half-ass some of the things and get myself home early. Ruben has six kids and a wife who must be an amazing cook. His dinner in the fridge has looked unbelievable the last two nights. Beats my PB and J. That’s about all I can stomach for now, and barely, at that.
I clean myself up and tuck the cleaning smock into the metal locker by Ruben’s desk. My stomach turns over a few times so I wait it out before getting in my car and heading to my small apartment. I’d rather throw up here than in my car or off the side of the road. When I no longer feel as if I’m rocking on a ship, I slip out the back door of the maintenance office. It’s dark out here at night, and I don’t love the walk to my car when I get off shift. Ruben says there are cameras all over this place, but I don’t know. I’ve looked and I haven’t seen a single one.
Pulling out of the institute parking lot, I plug my phone into the car charger and check my messages. Bailey finally texted me back. She said she got her registration settled for senior year. The news was a huge relief. Of everything I left up in the air, the plans Bailey and I made nagged at me the most. Our friendship was the victim of collateral damage. Bailey did nothing wrong. She supported me and my choice, in fact, though it meant I’d be leaving her in the dust.
I texted that I would call her on my way home, but I better make it home first in case I need to make an emergency stop. Plus, I want to tell her everything. I’m gonna need to be sitting down and comfortable for this conversation. Not only will my news rock her world, but she’s bound to have advice for me. Advice I should probably take, and at least need to be in a position to hear and consider with a clear head.
Rather than rushing our conversation, I text her that I’ll call in twenty minutes, and allow myself a leisurely drive home—through the Milk Shake Shack drive-thru. The vanilla is soothing. Or at least, it was yesterday. It’s still strange to call this suburb home. I’m in a nice apartment, considering the price. A few hundred bucks a month for enough space for me. Nine months from now, I’m going to have to rethink things. I don’t see an infant working out well in my current situation.
I swallow hard at that last thought. An infant is going to change a lot of factors in my current situation. Namely, how am I going to work under Jorge LaRonne? I won’t have time for studio sessions and massive projects. I won’t be able to build a portfolio that anyone will think is worth a damn. Maybe this entire dream is the joke my parents always told me it was.
My stream of negative thinking is interrupted by the drive-thru voice, so I put my worries off for at least a few more minutes and order my shake for the drive home. I’m halfway through it by the time I pull down the long, narrow driveway of the house I’m staying at. Sheila Lexington built this place near the campus that she founded. I lucked into getting this place, really. Blessings . . . I need to count those more.
I pull up close to the steps on the side of the garage and kill the engine and lights on my old sedan. I sit back in the worn cloth seat and sip the remaining half of my shake, poking the straw up and down to melt the ice cream better. I miss the Supra. I felt safer in that thing, even though it was built for speed. I guess I knew I could outrun danger behind that wheel. It was never really mine, though, and keeping it would have been a huge reminder in my face at all times. I didn’t leave Camp Verde to be cruel. I left because I had to. Dustin and I weren’t in a good place, and I fear he’s too lost to find his way back to good. His life has been too damn hard, and he feels owed—owed money and power, damn the legalities that get in the way.
I have to fight for him now, though. If anything can hold him to the fire, bring him back to the light—and away from trouble like he found in Vegas—it’s our child. In his heart, I know he would want to protect this baby from all the world’s evils.
Too full to finish the rest of my shake, I take the near-empty container and my purse and roll out of the car onto extremely tired legs. I meander my way to the trash can I should probably pull to the curb for Sheila and drop my cup inside. I’ll wake up early and get it out before the truck comes. Tonight, I’m just too exhausted. I don’t know how I’m ever going to be awake with enough energy to work on my oil strokes or sketching.
I drag myself up the stairs and slip into my small apartment, still void of things that say I live here. I had plans to decorate, but my finances have changed course a little over the last few days. I fumble for the chain lock and just as I’m sliding it into the slot, someone knocks at my door.
I leap and yelp at the same time, dropping the chain and letting it swing against the door. It’s probably Sheila, checking on me. She’s been pretty attentive since I came home in tears after taking two pregnancy tests. I think somehow she feels this is all her fault. I assured her the only two people involved in making this baby were me and the baby’s father. I haven’t uttered who that is, not to anyone, even though nobody around here knows who Dustin is. My life link to him is severed in this place, and for the purpose of a clear head, I need to keep that up for a little while. A few days, at least.
“Sorry if I woke you, Sh—”
It’s not until I open the door wide, foolishly thinking I am safe in this quiet college town, that I realize I’ve let in the devil.
“Alex.” I say his name loudly, maybe a bit wanting to announce my visitor as if someone is around to hear me say it. Sheila can barely hear me when I’m in the same room with her. I’m sure she’s either long been in bed or is hidden away in her bedroom reading those cowboy romances she loves.
“Hannah, I know it’s late. I’m sorry. I wanted to wait for you to come home and I guess you get home late. College life, huh? Ha ha. I probably could have come back in the morning, but . . . I’m needed back in Vegas. You know how it goes.” He’s walking this fine line between considerate and creepy. He smells like cigar and whatever cologne it is he wears. I’m not sure whether he dunked himself in it or my nose is incredibly sensitive, but I feel like throwing up all over him.
I hold a hand on my chest and feign startled, which I am, but mostly I’m masking the acid crawling up my esophagus.
“Sorry. You— Wow! You scared me.” Play innocent, Hannah. Give nothing away.
“I’ve been known to do that. Sorry.” What the fuck? Uh, yeah you have been!
He leans into the door jamb so I step back to gain some space. He’s already too far into my doorway to lock him out. I could never overpower him.