Kristen Ashley - Fire Inside

The next day…

“Hop, please call me. I was an idiot. I shouldn’t have done what I did. I promise I’ll get a hold on the drama. I promise, Hopper. Swear.” I took a deep breath. “We need to talk this out, honey. Please call me,” I begged into my phone.

I’d given it the night but this was my third voicemail that day.

I put my phone on my desk, ignored the cautious vibe coming from the staff in my office that I knew was caused by me, and tried to get to work.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about Hop. What I’d done, what he’d said, how to make it better. Needless to say, I didn’t get anything done.

Hours later, I called him and left another voicemail.

Hours after that, before going to bed, I called him again but since he didn’t answer, I hung up.

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. So I hooked my star to his. At first, he made it worth it, and not because he treated me like gold but just because he was a good man who loved me. You know how it was in the end.”

“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.”