Fire Inside by Kristen Ashley
Tomorrow.
I’d try again tomorrow.
I settled into bed.
I didn’t sleep.
* * *
Three days later…
I know you’re angry, honey, but please, PLEASE, call me. I need to apologize face to face.
That was text two of the day. It was nine o’clock in the morning.
There would be five more before I laid my head down on my pillow in order not to get a wink of sleep.
* * *
Two days later…
I sat sipping a beer in the Compound. Brick was with me, shooting the shit.
I knew he knew or suspected. All the brothers did. I knew they knew I was hanging there hoping to see Hop.
This was kind of embarrassing.
I did not care.
Hop had his kids so it was a long shot in the evening he’d show but I was willing to take it. I was willing to do anything.
“Gotta hit the head,” Brick muttered. I gave him a smile I knew he knew I didn’t commit to by the sweet smile he gave back and the squeeze he gave my knee before he took off toward the bathroom.
I felt a hand warm and strong at the back of my neck and I twisted to see Big Petey standing close.
“How you doin’, sweetheart?” he asked quietly.
Yes. They all knew.
I stared at Big Petey thinking I had nothing left to lose.
Nothing.
“Do you know where Hop is?” I asked and his face got soft.
“No, Lanie darlin’. Sorry to say, I don’t,” he answered.
“Have you seen him?” I asked.
“Seen him around. Haven’t had words with him in a while.”
“Is he okay?” I went on, needing something, anything, even just the knowledge Hop was in a bad mood would feed the need.
“Don’t know, honey.”
I pressed my lips together before I went for broke.
“If you see him, can you ask him to call me? It’s important. Like really important,” I stressed.
His hand still at my neck gave me a reassuring squeeze that didn’t reassure me. “Will do.”
“Thanks,” I whispered, then said, “Can you tell Brick I have to go? I forgot, there’s something I need to pick up at the drugstore.”
“No problem.”
I smiled another smile I didn’t commit to. Big Petey let my neck go and I skedaddled.
Hours later, lying in bed, I called Hop.
“You’re worrying me, honey,” I said into my phone, my voice sounding strange, hoarse.
Scared.
“Call me,” I finished then I hung up.
Again, I didn’t sleep.
The next day, Hopper didn’t call.
* * *
Four days later…
I’d been sitting in my car at the curb outside Hop’s house for a very long time before he pulled up on his bike. It was Monday, after his kids were gone.
It was also time to know.
He didn’t return a single message I left and I left many. He didn’t return a single text and I sent loads of those too. And he didn’t show at the Compound in the evenings. I knew he didn’t because I went there every night and had a drink just in case I’d run into him.
So when Hop showed at the Compound the day before, walking in, spotting me, turning right on the spot and leaving, even though I made a fool of myself running after him, calling his name, he didn’t look at me when he threw a leg over his bike, made it roar and rode away.
After that, I needed to know.
And as I watched the single headlight approach, watched Hop ride into his front drive, watched him switch off his bike, walk to his front door and then walk through it, all without glancing my way, I knew.
He was done with me, no going back.
So he needed to know.
I took a deep breath, threw open my door, walked up to his house and hit the doorbell.
No answer.
I hit the bell again then knocked.
He made me wait.
I fought back tears.
He finally opened the door and, with a bottle of beer in his hand, cut me off before I could start.
“This isn’t going to happen.”
“I was eleven, I was in the city with my class on a fieldtrip, we were there to see a Broadway show when I saw him,” I began.
His eyebrows drew together but his lips said, “Lanie, whatever you gotta—”
“My dad in a restaurant, kissing the neck of a woman who was not my mother.”
His mouth snapped shut.
I held his eyes and gave it to him as I’d practiced during the two hours I sat in front of his house.
“He saw me, right through the window. I just stood there, staring at him. I didn’t get it. I was too young. But I sure grew up fast, standing on that sidewalk staring at my father with another woman.”
“Lanie—”
“Our teacher shouted my name because I wasn’t moving. That’s why he turned his head and looked out the window. He must have heard her shout my name.”
“Lanie—”
“You bought this, you take it,” I whispered and his chin jerked back before his face went soft.
I wasn’t immune to the beauty of that look. It took a lot, but I didn’t give him a single indication I wasn’t immune.
“He didn’t move, Dad didn’t. Didn’t get out of his seat and come to me. Didn’t even mouth my name. He just sat close to her, holding her hand on the table, staring at me until the teacher pulled me away. Dad never mentioned it. Not a word. He never explained himself. He never even lied to try to make it better. But, I figure, with what happened next, he decided, since the cat was out of the bag, he didn’t have to bother with pretending. Hiding. So he didn’t.”
“Come inside, lady,” Hop invited gently.
Lady.
Gutted.
Again.
Like he did after every call he didn’t return, every text he didn’t reply to, walking away from me the night before as I ran after him, calling his name.
Gutted until I was hollow.
Again.
“I’m good out here.”
Hop’s jaw clenched but he said nothing more.
I did.
“I don’t know if she moved there or he moved her there or what, but they didn’t carry on their affair in the safety of the city anymore. He wasn’t blatant about it but he didn’t give keeping it under wraps a lot of effort. People saw him going to late movies with her. Saw them eating dinner together one town over. Saw them shopping together. My sister Lis saw them, too.” I paused. “I saw them, too.”
“It’s cold, baby. Come inside,” Hop urged, but I didn’t move.
“That’s why my mom is an alcoholic. It’s an addiction, a weakness; it isn’t all his fault but I know that started it. Looking back, I think she knew he was stepping out on her even before he moved his mistress to our town. If she didn’t spot them together sometime in all these years, it would be a miracle. But people talk. She’d hear the whispers. She’d catch the looks. Her friends would find their times to tell her. I know. I heard the whispers, I caught the looks but I was too young to drown in a bottle the pain I felt living in a house where love was a lie.”
“Lanie, honey, please, come inside.”
“That’s why I picked him.”
Hop closed his eyes, opened them and I saw disquiet in them when he murmured, “Baby—”
“Don’t get me wrong,” I interrupted him. “I loved Elliott, I really did. I didn’t put myself in front of bullets just for a guy I felt safe with, knowing he’d never cheat on me. But, having thought on it for years, as much of a bitch as this might make me sound, I gave him a shot because he wasn’t in my league. I gave him a shot because I knew he’d worship the ground I walked on and never treat me like dirt. I’d had guys treat me like garbage for a long time, my father being the first of them, so it wasn’t lost on me that having a man that devoted to me was a good thing.
“You don’t come inside, Lanie, I’ll carry you inside.”
“You touch me, Hop, you’ll never see me again.”
His body went visibly solid even as he flinched.
“You’re right,” I continued. “I heard Tyra talking about you and I did what I always do. I flew off the handle. I had no idea about Cody. I knew your breakup with Mitzi was bad but that kind of bad never entered my mind. But you know I’m like that. You know I blow things out of proportion. What you didn’t know was, even if I was wrong, thinking for even a second you’d cheat on your woman would hit me somewhere deep, somewhere that’s been wounded and bloody since I was eleven. You got angry with me for not giving you a shot at explaining. But you didn’t give me that shot either, Hop.”
“You’ve done it, lady, now come inside so we can finish talking this shit out where it’s warm.”
“That isn’t going to happen,” I declared and his head jerked.
“What?”
“I am who I am and I can’t be something else for you. For over a week, I’ve called, texted and sat in the Compound while your brothers knew I was waiting for you, humiliating myself by sitting there, hoping I’d get the chance to make things right with you. They did their best to be nice, it’s their way. But you didn’t give me that shot, they all knew it and I knew it too. You didn’t return a call. You didn’t send back a text. You walked away from me, twice, and just now you saw me and walked into your house without looking at me. You don’t need my drama in your life, Hop? Well, I don’t need a man who can so easily cut me out of his.”
“You didn’t know about Cody, babe, I didn’t know about your dad.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I’ll remind you, you didn’t either.”
“Oh, you don’t have to remind me, Hopper. I remember. God, I remember,” I told him, the words sounding choked in the end so I swallowed as Hop shifted toward me but I took a step away so he stopped.
“This doesn’t work,” I declared.
“Yes, it does,” he contradicted.
“No,” I shook my head. “It doesn’t. We fight all the time.”
“We also fuck all the time.”
He had a point there, just not a good enough one.
“We don’t work,” I stated.
“Baby, the good we got, how can you say that?” he asked.
“I have a week and a half of knowing it, Hop,” I answered. “You cut me out.”
“You fucked up then I fucked up, babe. We’re gettin’ to know each other. That’ll happen and, just a head’s up, even when we got time and experience in, it’ll still happen.”
“You cut me out.”
“I fucked up.”
I leaned in and hissed, “You cut me out,” and he blinked at the sudden harshness of my tone. “Do you have any clue, any fucking clue how much pain I’ve been in? A week and a half, knowing I hurt you like that, knowing I forced you to relive that, knowing I did wrong, calling you, texting you, begging you to let me talk to you, apologizing and you not giving me anything?”
He stepped out on the stoop and I took another step away.
“Lanie, come here,” he urged.
“No.” I moved back another step.
“Goddamn it, Lanie, you’re gonna fall off the fuckin’ stoop,” he growled so I stepped down the two steps and stood on his front walk. “Jesus, lady, just come inside the fuckin’ house.”
“I wanted one night,” I reminded him.
“Lanie, baby—”
“That’s it. One night. But you pushed in, I let you in and now I remember, Hop. I remember what, for seven years, I’ve been guarding against.”
He stepped down. I stepped back.
“You have something, you have something to lose,” I went on, slowly backing up. “You don’t have anything, you have nothing to lose. I didn’t want any part of it but you made me want it then you gave me something and you took it away and reminded me how bad it hurts, how it kills to have something to lose.”
“Please, honey, fuckin’ come inside.”
“We’re done.”
“Take a deep breath, calm the drama, think a second then come the fuck inside.”
I stopped dead, he stopped dead and I pinned him with my eyes.
“This isn’t a drama, Hop. Pay attention. I’m not ranting. I’m not in a tizzy. I’ve given this a lot of thought. Thanks to you, I’ve had a good amount of time to think about it. And we’re done. I don’t need this pain. I’ve had twenty-eight years of living with this kind of pain, watching my mother endure it, and I’m done.”
His face went hard.
“I’m not doin’ to you what your motherfucker of a father is doin’ to your mother,” he growled.
“It’s not the same but it’s still heartbreak,” I returned and, just as quickly as it came, the hardness washed out of his features.
“Do not do this, Lanie.”
“It’s already done. It was done when you got off your bike, walked into your house and broke my heart. Just like my father. You didn’t even have it in you to do it up close and personal.”
He grabbed my arm but, with a savage twist, I pulled away and took two steps back.
“It was good you shielded your kids from what we might have been, Hop. I’ll miss them but they won’t miss me.”
“Jesus, fuck, babe, I’m beggin’ you, come inside.”
“Good-bye, Hop.”
“Baby—”
I turned and ran.
He turned and ran into his house.
He didn’t have his keys.
This was good.
This meant I got a head start and when I hit a motel parking lot, Hop had no idea where I was.
It was only when I was sitting cross-legged on the ratty bedspread did I allow myself to burst into tears.
* * *
Two days later…
I sat on my couch, twisted toward Tyra to my left, lifting a bent leg just like hers to rest it on the couch and I sucked back some wine.
Since I gave her the wineglass before I sat down, she’d already had her sip, so when I took my glass from my lips, she was prepared to launch in.
“I don’t blame you.”
I closed my eyes.
“Lanie, honey, look at me.”
I opened my eyes.
She leaned toward me and wrapped her fingers around my thigh. “I don’t blame you for me getting stabbed.”
“I know,” I whispered something I did know but had been denying for insane reasons until that moment I wouldn’t allow myself to get. Understandable fear after what happened that led to irrational guilt that no one gave me any indication I should feel. I just fed off it, or more to the point, let my monster feed on it in a vain and crazy attempt to keep myself safe from ever being hurt again.
“I hope so,” she told me. “Since I told you way back when that I didn’t.”
I drew in breath then confided, “I hear it over and over again in my head.”
Her head tipped to the side and she scooted closer. “You hear what in your head?”
“Our conversation. You telling me to end it with Elliott. You advising me that his getting us kidnapped was a concrete wall you can’t scale when it comes to love. Me telling you—”
“Stop it,” she interrupted, squeezing my thigh.
“I think that’s it, sweetie. I think that was why I couldn’t forgive myself even though you and Tack never blamed me. I think it’s because I play that conversation over and over in my head and it reminds me there was something that needed to be forgiven,” I admitted.
“Honey, you didn’t kidnap and stab me and you have to find some way to get that straight. I don’t know how to stop you playing that conversation in your head,” she stated. “I just know, together, Lanie, we have to find a way to do that.”
I took a sip of wine, my way of being noncommittal. I couldn’t tell her we could do that, since I hadn’t been able to do it for seven years. With this, I’d taken a big step. Who knew how long it would take me to get to the next one.
The day after the break with Hop, I’d called her and told her I was ready to do this. Not surprisingly, she’d told me to tell her when and where and she’d be there.
I gave her the when and where and last night, sleeping at home again, I waited for Hop to show or call.
He didn’t.
It was over.
That killed but I’d survived worse (I told myself) so now it was time to move on with my life. Do this. Fight the monster myself without Hop at my back.
And hope I won.
“I think this all might have to do with, uh… well, me getting you hurt, feeling guilt about it since you told me to dump Eli but also, mostly, that whole thing,” I waved my hand around, sloshing the wine I held dangerously, so I righted it and finished, “in Kansas City.”
“Do you think you need to talk to a professional?” she asked.
I put the wine to my lips, murmuring, “Maybe,” before I took a drink.
Her next question was voiced with hesitancy. “Do you want to talk about Kansas City?”
I didn’t.
Even so, I looked her straight in the eye and declared, “He used me as a shield.”
“I know,” she said so low I could barely here her.
“You know and you knew,” I stated and her head gave a slight jerk of confusion.
“I know and I knew?”
“You know what happened and you knew it would happen. That was what you tried to warn me about.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t know the Mob would find you in—”
“That’s not what I mean,” I cut her off. “You knew, in that situation or any situation in life, Elliott getting involved with the Mob at all stated it clear to you, he would not protect me.”
She sighed before she scooted closer, took another sip of wine, then locked her eyes with mine.
“Yes, I knew. There are some guys, and Elliott was one of them, that just aren’t built that way. Luckily, the Mob doesn’t normally enter someone’s life so they aren’t put to that test. I didn’t know, if it came down to bullets flying, he’d use you to take them for him. I just knew that he made a bad decision on how to invest money. Then, when he lost his money, he made a bad decision on how to get it back, and it just went downhill from there. So, yeah, I knew. But I didn’t love him, Lanie. Tack is the exact opposite of that. He’d fight, kill and die before he let anything happen to me, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t sometimes a pain in my ass. He is. Elliott made it worth it to you in his ways. Tack makes it worth it in his. It’s just the way it is.”