I groan to myself and consciously refrain from rolling my eyes back in my head. I knew this was coming. It’s Jay’s birthday, so of course Hildy’s best friend will be in attendance. But the last time I saw Hannah was just over a week ago at the Rickhouse, after narrowly escaping an attempted assault and exchanging sordid accusations with her in a public restroom. Not to mention all this happened while I was trying to evade my newly acquired stalker who’s already broken into my vehicle and is obviously the one who left garden bricks piled behind my car months ago. Seeing Hannah only reminds me of all the things I’m actively trying to avoid.
Because that’s what I do.
Leona’s shrill voice cuts through the air, turning my attention away from another awkward encounter with Hannah.
“Girl, what is wrong with you—you drove into the creek?” Leona chides from the other side of the table, “You could’ve died!”
“You told my mom on me?” Hildy whips around to Jay.
“Hey, all I said was that we got held up down by the creek…” he averts his eyes, “and that you might need a change of clothes.”
Hildy swipes a towel off the table with an irritated growl and starts drying off.
“And where were the two of you when your wife and your sister were driving off to their death?” Leona turns her ire to Jay and Bowen.
“Towing their asses out!” Bowen tosses his balled-up shirt onto the table, “Well, Jay towed the quad. I towed them.”
Jay holds out his phone to Leona, unable to speak as he’s overcome with laughter again. She squints and cranes her neck to look at the ridiculous picture of Bowen carrying Hildy and I across the creek.
Her eyes fly open, “Brett was stuck in the creek, too?” Leona reels back and smacks Bowen across the shoulder, giving him a start.
“She was riding with Hildy!” Bowen draws his shoulders up, his eyes darting back and forth with bewilderment.
“Boy…” Leona points her finger up at him with a warning look, “you’re her older brother, you need to be a role model,” then she points a finger at me, still glaring up at him, “and that’s your future wife, use your head!”
Hildy’s mouth stretches into a grin that extends from one ear to the other, relishing her brother getting lambasted by their mom. Leona is over a foot shorter than Bowen, but she still gives him the business like she’s going to knock him from here to next Tuesday. And she’s not done.
She whips around and shoots Jay a look, “And don’t even get me started on you,” she scowls before starting back toward the house, leaving Bowen stunned and with eyes wide.
“We’re the same age and she’s a grown-ass woman,” Bowen calls after her, “with a husband!”
Leona waves him off, not even turning around.
Bowen’s eyes shift to Hildy, “Next time, I’ll leave your ass out there,” he hisses at her, grabbing a towel off the pile.
“Would you leave me out there, too?” I smirk as I take a seat and start running a towel across my legs to soak up any remaining creek water.
“Nah,” Bowen flashes me a smile, “I’d save you, no matter what. Then kick her in so Jay can fish her out when she washes out downstream.”
“Hater, tsk, tsk…” Hildy gives him a smug look and a shake of her head.
“What happened to you guys?” Hannah asks Hildy from across the table.
“Small problem with the quad,” she utters nonchalantly, dismissing the event.
I collapse back in my chair, laughing uncontrollably, “Jack Sparrow over here almost sunk us,” I gasp, wiping the tears from my eyes.
“It didn’t look that deep, OK?” Hildy whips around, pointing a finger at me, “Don’t act like you’re not complicit in this!”
“What was I supposed to do,” I shoot back, “grab the handlebars from you?”
Bowen steps behind the edge of the truck bed, out of view, and starts unbuckling his belt, “Like old times, huh?” Bowen says to Hildy as he drops his jeans and kicks them off his feet. Then he looks at me, “Like you’ve always been here.”
He throws his drenched jeans and boxer briefs over the edge of the truck and starts wrapping the towel around his waist. I watch Hannah steal a glance at him, but when he catches her, her eyes dart back down to the ground. She starts picking at her nails, avoiding eye contact with anyone until he comes out from behind the truck. Good thing, because if she looks my way, I’ll burn holes in her with my eyes.
Suddenly, I feel a pair of arms wrap around my shoulders and Hildy leans over my chair and presses her cheek to mine. I pause at the unexpected gesture and reach up to squeeze her arm. She remains there for a few moments, holding me in a tight embrace.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she murmurs before loosening her arms.
I momentarily forget my animosity toward Hannah, “Me too.”
And I am. She and her family are the closest thing I have to one that doesn’t require a round-trip airline ticket. Their love comes with a type of acceptance and security no one else has ever been able to offer and every time I’m around all of them, I feel like I’m home. Which is why when I look at Hannah, I feel nothing but disdain. Whenever she’s around, it throws a damper on that security and I start to feel like I’m an unsuspecting mouse waiting to be ambushed by a viper in the weeds.
Hildy gives me another squeeze before letting her hands fall from my shoulders, “Are we going out right after dinner?” she asks Bowen. “I still have to shower.”
“Yeah,” he glances at his watch, “I’ll take one now.”
Not only do I have to spend another evening with Hannah, but I’m not sure whether it’s better to be intoxicated or not. I search the patio for the cooler sitting in the shade by the back door and decide that, between being stuck on a quad in the middle of a creek and spending the rest of the evening with a woman who doesn’t hide the fact she hates me, I could use a beer.
And, of course, when I get halfway across the patio, I realize Hannah is already crouching down to dig through the cooler. As much as I’d like to avoid her, I decide it’s more awkward to do an about-face back to the table for no reason. When I arrive at the cooler, she glances up at me briefly before returning her focus to the cans buried in the ice.
I crouch down next to her, “Is it all the same?” For some inexplicable reason, I’m still trying to make small talk even though I definitely called her a salty bitch only a week ago.
I assume there’s more than one kind of drink because Hannah doesn’t answer me and continues digging through the ice. I roll my eyes and wait for her to finish tossing cans around, also deciding that this will be the extent of my congeniality today.
As Hannah bends over the cooler, her shirt rides up, exposing two large, dark bruises along her waist and back. The one on her back is oblong and dark purple in the middle, bordering on black, and changes from purple to brown as it fades back into her normal skin tone. The one on her waist is slightly smaller, rounder, and purple with dark speckles throughout.
“Oh my god,” I peer around her back at the splotches radiating across her skin, “are you OK?”
