After Dark (19 page)

“She should be eating healthy, at least. Organic food isn’t cheap. And eventually she’ll need those”—he waved a hand—“horrible-looking pants with the stretchy…” He trailed off, glaring at the pizza box.

Mmph
,
adorable.
I kissed his cheek. “Do you want to come?”

“In a manner of speaking.” He grinned. “Nah, you know I don’t. Go on, before I change my mind about helping her.”

“You won’t change your mind.” I nuzzled him. “You’re too sweet.”

“Only for you.”

He helped me carry the grocery bags to the car and then watched me drive off. He always looked so forlorn—when I left for work, an errand, whatever. It was simultaneously heart-melting and heart-crushing.

I watched him grow smaller in the rearview mirror.

Then I turned the corner and started to miss him.

“Be cooler than this,” I muttered. From the dashboard, a plush patchwork squirrel observed me with beady eyes. A gift from Matt.
Ugh, Matt, you’re turning me into a sap.

I rode to my parents’ house with the squirrel on my lap.

I’d arranged to meet Chrissy out back, avoiding Mom and Dad as much as possible, but no one answered when I tapped on the patio door. I tugged at the handle. Locked.

Fuck,
everything would be easier when Chrissy told our parents.

If
she decided to tell them.

I rang the bell and Dad answered. We hugged on the steps. He clung to me a little longer than usual, and a little harder, and I frowned when I drew back.

“Everything okay, Dad?”

“Just missing my girl,” he said. Guilt swamped me. I needed to visit more often.

“Is Chrissy around?”

“No.” Dad frowned at the floor. Chrissy’s choices of dress, occupation, almost everything, disappointed our father. “I thought she quit that job”—he meant stripping—“but she’s off at that
place
with some
boy
doing I probably don’t want to know what.”

Some boy?

“Dad, I gotta go. I’ll visit soon.” I gave him a quick kiss and dashed back to my Civic.

I called Chrissy on my way to Boulder.

“Han?” she answered. I heard music and voices in the background.

“Are you at Dynamite? Seriously?”

“
Yyyup
. Problems?”

“We were supposed to meet at home. I have—”

“Oh, no. Tonight? No, that was Thursday night.” A certain smudge around the edge of Chrissy’s voice told me she’d been drinking.

“It
is
Thursday night,” I hissed.

“I had to go out. Seth came by. Can you believe it?” My sister’s voice radiated awe. When it came to Seth Sky, she was a fan girl, not her usual cynical self.

My hand trembled on the wheel.

I ended the call and chucked my phone onto the passenger seat.

Matt wouldn’t like this, I knew, but I had to see my sister. I had to protect her.

I parked on the street and hurried down the alley, flashing my ID as I ducked into the Dynamite Club. The pink-red light, the throbbing music and scent of alcohol and perfume brought back the memory of being here with Matt. I paused in the crowd and closed my eyes. God, I barely knew him then … he was a captivating stranger … and at dinner and then at the club that night, he’d seemed so capable and controlled.

Only later did I get to know the rest of him. Broken Matt. Sweet Matt. Vulnerable Matt. I loved all of it, the good and the bad.

“You look like you’re having a nice dream,” someone whispered.

I kept my eyes closed and counted backward from ten.

Then I gazed up at Seth.

“Who needs nice dreams?” I said. “I have nice things in my life.”

“Lucky you.”

We stared at one another, openly assessing. God, Seth didn’t look good. He wore his dark hair in a ponytail, which accentuated the sharp angles of his face. He’d lost weight. Quite a bit of weight. Bruise-blue shadows filled the hollows of his features. I recognized the glassy gleam in his eyes. He was high or drunk, or both.

My gaze raked down to his boots. His clothes—a plain gray T-shirt and jeans—were clean but loose on his lean frame.

“I want to talk to you,” I said. “Not here.”

Seth shrugged and moved toward the exit, his rangy body slipping through the crowd.

I found Chrissy sharing a booth with a dancer. At least, the girl
looked
like one of the dancers. Three sweating glasses stood between them.

“You’re drinking.” I frowned at my sister.

“Yeah. One Long Island.”

“Hi!” said the friend. I ignored her.

“One is one too many if you’re going to—” I pursed my lips, but I wanted to scream:
If you’re going to have that baby.
“If you’re going to
drive
, Chrissy.” I laid ridiculous emphasis on the word “drive.” “Even one drink could
impair
things.”

“I think a little bit is okay.”

The stupid friend chimed in: “Driving? Didn’t Seth drive you here?”

“Shut
up
.” I glared at the friend.

“What the hell?” said Chrissy. “If you’re going to be a bitch, I don’t want to talk to you. I’m actually having a good night. Don’t come around with your boyfriend’s shitty attitude.”

Heat rushed to my head.

I vividly imagined throwing my sister’s drink in her face, and I stormed out before it came to that. In the alleyway, I gulped down summer air. A twist of smoke burned my throat. I coughed and glared at the offending smoker.

Seth Fucking Sky, of course.

“Rough night?” He raised a brow.

“Like you care.” I turned away. It hurt to look at him—to see him hurting. I had played a part in his pain, hooking up with him so carelessly, and that memory was too fresh.

“I do care, Hannah.”

I hugged myself. “You look really bad.”

“Hey, thanks.”

“You know you do. Why can’t you just take care of yourself?” I glared over my shoulder, my eyes burning.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“It is
hard
to watch, okay? I know you and Matt don’t get along, but you’re the same. Self-destructive and stupidly stubborn. And—” My throat clenched; my voice shook. I can never speak when I get too angry or sad.

What I really wanted to do was apologize for helping Seth hurt himself by hooking up with him when my heart belonged to Matt, but I couldn’t make the words come out.

“I would have let you take care of me,” he said. Easy for him to say; he was halfway fucked-up. He leaned against the wall and sucked on his cigarette. He watched me, his dark eyes slanted down, and then gestured toward the club. “I doubt that little thing can do the job.”

That little thing
—my sister.

“She needs taking care of,” I said, “not the other way around.”

“I’m gonna try.”

“Is that why she’s in there drinking? God, I want to hate you. I do. I hate you for fucking up her life like this.”

“She was well on her way to fucking it up when I came along.” Seth exhaled away from me. “If not with me, with Wiley, with some other guy. Girl is wild. And Hannah—” He reached for me, the sarcasm draining from his tone. “She came on to me … I didn’t—”

“I don’t want to know.” I sidestepped his hand.

“I want you to know. She did. You left, she came into the room—”

“
No
.” I covered my ears. When he stopped speaking, I lowered my hands.

How long had I been here? I felt for my phone and remembered I’d left it in the car.

A group of people filed into the club.

“We had fun that night,” Seth said. “I mean after the memorial, driving out to that bar. Making our escape.” He laughed. “It was winter, right? Fucking cold. I really thought he was dead.” Sadness, not bitterness, underpinned Seth’s voice. “It’s hard to forgive him.”

I fished the crumpled check out of my pocket and offered it to Seth.

“He wants to help her.”

“I heard otherwise.” Seth unfolded the check and frowned at it.

“He was angry. He came around.”

“Kid’s got a temper on him. I should know.” After a brief hesitation, he pocketed the check. “I’ll see she gets it. We’re doing some … fancy paternity test. DNA stuff. It’s a safe one. We’ll put the money toward that, and anything else she—”

“What the hell are you two doing out here?” Chrissy swayed in the club’s doorway. Instinctively, I moved away from Seth.

“Trying to figure out ways to help you,” I said.

“Yeah, right.” Her eyes flickered to Seth. “Give me a cigarette.”

“Chris, she’s trying to help. Matt wrote you a check—”

“Look at you, defending her.” Chrissy’s nostrils flared. “I don’t want his help. Give me a fucking cigarette, would you?”

“No,” he said. He flashed an aggrieved look at me. “I think you should go…”

Me? Go?
Chrissy was
my
sister.

With stinging eyes, I rushed toward my car, bumping past drunken strangers. I yanked open the trunk and snatched up all the plastic grocery sacks, and I lumbered back down the alley to where Seth and Chrissy were quarreling.

“You don’t get to pick and choose who helps you.” I set the load of groceries at Chrissy’s feet. “Matt bought all this food for
you
, so you and that baby can be healthy.”

Her eyes bored into me.

“He’s a judgmental asshole, and you’re not far behind, all of the sudden.” She kicked the nearest bag, hard. Something inside popped. I pictured Matt shopping for those groceries—looming in the aisle, glaring at the selection of whole-grain breads and inspecting each loaf in his angry way—and I dove down, gathering the bags away from Chrissy.

A slippery trail ran onto my shirt.

Broken egg.

I gasped and tears squeezed out of my eyes. I tried to stop them, but as soon as I tried, a torrent followed. I swore under my breath and swiped at my cheeks, smearing egg.

Strong arms closed around me. Seth guided me to my feet.

“Thank you for the food. Leave it; I’ll get it. Where’s your car?”

I pointed blindly and he guided me away from the light and stink of the club.

“There you go,” Chrissy called. “Help poor Hannah!”

Seth deposited me behind the wheel of my Civic. I sat there blubbering, an eggy, teary mess. He strained across my lap and snagged my phone.

“Matt’s been calling you,” he said. “I think you should call him back.”

At the thought of Matt’s anger—here I was with Seth, whom Matt had effectively ordered me not to see—a new surge of tears seeped into my hands.

“Hannah, calm down. I’ll—” My phone started to ring. “It’s Matt.” Seth hovered on the edge of my vision, holding out the phone while I sniffled and sobbed. Where was all this emotion coming from? Guilt … confusion … fear. Oh God, Matt was going to be so pissed.

“Can you take this?” Seth said.

I shook my head furiously.

He turned away and thumbed the screen. He brought my phone to his ear.

“Hello, Matt.”

Chapter 22

MATT

I overpaid my cab and launched out into the street.

Hannah’s Civic was parked in a metered spot and I could see her sitting behind the wheel. No sign of Seth or Chrissy.

I ran to her.

The driver-side door lurched open and I pulled her out.

“I’m sorry,” she bleated.

“Don’t be. What the hell happened?” I took in her red-rimmed eyes, dry cheeks, and stained shirt. Seth hadn’t given me details on the phone, and I hadn’t listened too well.
Hannah is parked outside Dynamite. She’s fine, but she’s emotional. I think you should come get her.

I cussed him out for being in Colorado.

I threatened him.

I threw
All the King’s Men
across the living room.

I was still shouting into my cell when he hung up.

“I drove to my parents’ to meet up with Chrissy,” Hannah mumbled into my shirt, “and Dad said she was
here
with some
guy
and I lost it, ’cause I knew it was Seth. She was drinking. She was crazy. Matt, she hates me.”

She snuffled loudly and I cupped her face.

“Hey, hey. No more crying. It’s okay. Are they gone now?”

“Yeah. Seth”—she dragged her fist across her nose—“wanted to stay with me, but I made him leave, because…” She looked up at me with watery eyes.

“Good call,” I muttered. “Goddamn it, Hannah…” I clenched my teeth.

We held one another, standing on the sidewalk, and I rocked her gently.

“She kicked your groceries,” she whispered. At that, she nearly started to cry again, and I whispered in her ear that it was all right, and that it was over.

“She’s hormonal and confused. Don’t think about it now. Give me your keys.” I put Hannah on the passenger seat like a baby. Lifted her in, buckled her seat belt. She didn’t protest. She touched my hands and forearms wonderingly, as if my gentleness were a miracle.

Maybe it was a miracle.

I wanted to punch a hole in the nearest anything.

I plugged in my phone and shuffled a playlist for the drive back to Denver. When the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ “Wedding Song” came on, I reached over and rubbed Hannah’s thigh. She’d been mostly quiet, looking out her window. She filled me in on some details—Seth seemed high but genuinely concerned for Chrissy, they were doing a paternity test, she gave him the check—and I didn’t push her for more.

At the condo, I undressed her and we showered together.

She kept giving me quick, wide-eyed looks.

“It’s okay,” I told her again and again. I washed her hair. I stroked her body, nothing more. Afterward, we made coffee and sat on the couch.

I blew a curl of steam off my mug and smiled at Hannah. “Coffee at midnight. Sounds like some bad indie band, am I right?”

She smiled back at me and nodded.

“Bird, talk to me.”

“I’m … worried about him.”

I swallowed a mouthful of coffee. It scalded my tongue. Anger, which I had been tempering all night, rumbled inside me. Clouds massing for a storm.

“Because he was high?”

“He looked terrible,” she said. “Too skinny, miserable. He’s in no way equipped to help Chrissy right now.
He
needs help. And the way she bossed him around, it was—”