My Hotshot, page 7
Half-asleep, I’d mumbled something—I had no idea what, probably nonsense—and walked him to the door. I think he said he’d talk to me later. At least, I think that’s what he said. It had been hazy.
I’d locked the door behind him and gone straight to bed, still warm with the scent of him on the blanket.
Could I have been more… aware? More present? Probably. But I didn’t function like a normal person after just waking up, and he hadn’t seemed to mind. That mattered.
Now he had my phone number. And he knew where I lived.
That should’ve freaked me out more than it did.
It was a little scary, sure. I wasn’t naïve. But it wasn’t like I thought he was going to show up on my doorstep unannounced. He knew about Lottie. He knew I had a life before moving here.
But what was he trying to do? Maybe he was asking himself the same question about me because I had been the one to text him.
I wrapped my arms around my waist and leaned my hip against the counter. I stared out the window above the sink. The yard looked the same as it always did yesterday. Faded grass, a wind chime barely tinkling in the still morning air, the bird feeder swinging gently even though I hadn’t seen a bird in days.
It all looked the same, but each day I started to feel different. I was feeling freer.
And now there was Duane.
Was I supposed to tell Lottie?
What would I even say? Hey, I found the love of my life back in high school, and we both decided to just throw it away. Well, he’s back. And he came over last night. And we watched a show about tow truck drivers like it was the most normal thing in the world. And he might want to be in my life again.
Might.
The word was doing a lot of heavy lifting.
Was there really anything she needed to know?
I was a grown adult. I could make my own choices. I wasn’t hiding anything—yet—I was just… figuring it out. Testing the waters. Seeing if this thing with Duane had any legs before I introduced it to the most important person in my life.
Lottie was growing up. She was forming her own world now. One that didn’t always revolve around me. Sleepovers and study groups and weekend movies. She was already halfway out the door, and I had to start thinking about what my life looked like beyond the school drop-offs and permission slips.
Maybe that meant I needed to grow up a little, too. Not in the way people usually meant it, but in the way where I gave myself permission to want something. Maybe someone?
I had been with Lee the past fifteen years, but did he really count? The man had another woman the whole time we were together. I was with him… Hell, I had been with him because of Lottie. Looking back, not my best move, but I couldn’t go back now.
Now I really had the chance to make my life what I wanted.
Was that going to include Duane?
I didn’t know. Not yet.
But he hadn’t run. He hadn’t played it cool or indifferent. He had shown up. Sat on my couch. Made me laugh. Let me fall asleep on his shoulder. And that had to count for something.
My phone buzzed on the counter beside me, and I jumped slightly. I reached for it, and my stomach flipped.
Duane.
Hope your headache wasn’t too bad this morning. Got a few things to take care of. I’ll call you later.
I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the screen. I smiled, just a little.
I typed back. No permanent damage done. Good luck with your things.
Three dots appeared, then disappeared. Then appeared again.
Maybe I shouldn’t have said good luck with your things. I was trying to be cute, but did it come off as a bit catty?
Ugh, I hated texting.
Later, babe
I locked my phone and took another long sip of coffee.
Yeah.
Okay.
That was fine.
Later was good.
I was going to spend all afternoon and night with Lottie, so it was fine that we would talk later.
I tried to quell the panic that was rising in my throat.
This thing with Duane was going to be whatever I wanted. I was in charge now.
I was free to do whatever I wanted, and that included Duane.
Or not.
Or maybe?
Chapter Twelve
Lainey
“This isn’t going to become an every weekend thing, Lottie.”
“Mom, please,” Lottie whined, dragging out the word like it had extra syllables. “We want to watch this old, classic show called One Tree Hill.”
My breath caught in my throat. “Classic?” I gasped. “That show isn’t even that old.”
“It’s from the early 2000s, Mom. It’s a classic.”
She was just trying to hurt me with those words. “I watched that show when I was growing up, Lottie, and I’m in my thirties. M*A*S*H is a classic. Not One Tree Hill.”
Lottie rolled her eyes dramatically, like that was the most mom-thing I could possibly say. “Whatever you say. Can I go to Julie’s tonight?”
“It’s Friday night,” I said, my tone flat with meaning.
“And?” She bounced on the balls of her feet. “We want to stay up late and watch as many episodes as we can. Please?” She stepped forward, clasping her hands together in front of her chest in full-blown beg mode. “Please, can I go?”
“I haven’t met Julie’s parents.”
She grabbed her overnight bag off her bed and slung it over her shoulder like she was about to backpack across Europe, not go ten minutes away. That bag had seen more use since we moved to Mt. Pleasant than it had in the three years prior.
“You can meet them when you drop me off. Please, Mom, please?!”
I sighed and rolled my eyes, already halfway resigned. “Fine.”
“Yay!” she cheered, spinning toward the hallway. “What time do I have to be home? Can it be six?”
“In the morning?”
Now it was Lottie’s turn to roll her eyes. “At night, Mom. We need all the time we can get to watch as many episodes as we can.”
“You know, back in my day, we had to wait an entire week between episodes. No binge-watching.”
Lottie nodded solemnly. “I know. And you also went to those machines to rent records.”
I blinked. I could feel a headache blooming behind my left eye. “They were DVDs, and it was called RedBox. And for the record, there are still RedBox machines. There’s one by the drugstore back home.”
“Good story, Mom. I love when you tell it.” Her voice was pure sarcasm, her smile wide. “Now can we please go to Julie’s? They’re waiting for me to start the first episode.”
I was losing her—one One Tree Hill marathon at a time.
Fridays used to be ours. We’d curl up on the couch, true crime reruns playing while we picked apart delivery pizza and argued over who the real killer was. But now? She had new people, new plans.
It looked like I was going to be solving cold cases with mozzarella sticks all by myself tonight.
I grabbed my keys and shoved my feet into my sandals. “Let’s go. I wouldn’t want you to be late for the first time Lucas sees Peyton.”
Lottie slapped her hands over her ears. “Don’t tell me anything! I want to be surprised.”
“Oh, you’ll be surprised,” I murmured. One Tree Hill was an emotional roller coaster. They had no idea what they were in for.
We stepped into the garage, the fluorescent light humming above us. I hit the button to lift the door while Lottie zipped ahead to the driver’s side.
“I’ll drive!” she announced gleefully.
I stopped mid-step and dropped my chin to my chest. “God help me.”
Just last week, I’d called to make her DMV appointment—and had been shocked to learn we could just walk in. I should have known then my days were numbered.
Now here she was: sleepovers, friend group, and driving. And she’d just called one of my favorite shows a classic.
Grab my walker and haul me to the nearest nursing home. I was officially old.
We climbed in, and I buckled up slowly, my mom senses tingling.
“Maybe you could try to make some friends,” Lottie said as she eased the car down the driveway. “Like, go to the bar or something?”
I looked over at her. “I think I can handle making friends, Lottie. You don’t have to worry about me.”
She shrugged like it wasn’t that big of a deal, but I caught the little side glance she gave me. I appreciated it—even if it stung a bit.
We turned onto the street, and she pointed us in the direction of Julie’s.
“How do you know where we’re going?” I asked.
“Julie lives next to Tiff,” she said confidently, keeping her eyes on the road.
I nodded and sank a little deeper into my seat, one hand braced on the center console. She wasn’t a bad driver. You could just tell she was new. Her hands were too stiff on the wheel, and her foot was still learning the delicate balance between acceleration and panic.
We drove in silence, the kind that felt comfortable on the surface but had a hint of melancholy under it. I kept sneaking glances at her profile—the familiar curve of her nose, the freckle on her cheek, the way she bit her lip when she turned. She was still my little girl. Just… not so little anymore.
When we reached Julie’s neighborhood, I started to relax—right before Lottie took a corner like she was in a NASCAR race.
I braced a hand on the door. “Maybe slow down before the turn next time?”
Even she looked a little rattled. “Good suggestion,” she muttered.
We parked out front and both got out of the SUV. I followed her up the walkway to a neat little ranch-style house with a cheerful blue door.
Julie’s mom answered after one knock, holding a glass of wine in one hand and a polite smile on her face. “You must be Lainey. I’m Meredith.”
“Nice to meet you.” I gave her a once-over—cute sundress, bare feet, glossy nails. She seemed nice enough, maybe a little too into her rosé, but nothing that set off my mom radar.
“Don’t worry,” Meredith said, as if reading my thoughts. “We’re just having a quiet night. The girls are in the basement. I’ll keep an ear out.”
“Thanks,” I said, offering a small smile.
Lottie was already halfway inside, shouting goodbye over her shoulder like we weren’t two feet apart.
“Text me if anything changes,” I called after her.
“Love you!” she yelled, already disappearing down the stairs.
I turned back to Meredith. “Thanks again. If anything comes up—”
“I’ve got your number from the contact form. She’s in good hands.”
I nodded and headed back to the SUV. Once I was alone in the car, I pulled the door shut and let out a long sigh. One single tear rolled down my cheek before I even noticed it.
“Man,” I whispered to no one. “Growing up sucks.”
Not just for Lottie. For me, too.
But maybe it wasn’t just about losing something. Maybe it was about getting something else in return.
A new kind of time. A blank page. I just had to figure out what to write on it.
I started the car and shifted into drive, heading down the quiet street.
And that new page?
It was going to include pizza.
And finally finishing the painting in the hallway.
Chapter Thirteen
Dice
The text stared back at me.
Hello.
One word. Simple. Harmless. And it was currently ripping a hole through the middle of my chest like it was laced with dynamite.
I had told myself, promised myself, I needed to wait on Lainey. That it wasn’t the right time. Not when things were the way they were with the club. Not when Boone and Gibbs were still breathing.
But now… here she was. Texting me.
“You good?” Pirate asked and leaned forward to squint at me across the table.
I gave him a tight nod and kept my eyes on the screen.
“Bro, you’re lookin’ at your phone like it bit you. What the hell is up?”
Without saying a word, I turned the screen toward him so he could see.
He wrinkled his brow. “The word hello pissed you off?”
I turned the phone back to me, and my thumb hovered over the screen like it might detonate. “It’s from Lainey.”
Pirate’s expression softened. “Oh. Things not good between you two?”
“Things are fine, I just…” I trailed off, jaw clenched.
The thing was, I had told myself very clearly that I needed to let her go for now. Told myself I couldn’t bring someone like her into my life—especially not now. She had a daughter. A life. And I came with blood on my hands and a target on my back.
But then she’d gone and texted me.
It had been four days since I left her place with a mumbled half-asleep goodbye from her. I said I’d talk to her later. Apparently, she decided later was now.
“You just what?” Pirate prompted when I didn’t finish.
I sighed. “I just don’t want her wrapped up in all this club shit. She’s got a kid, man. What kind of asshole tries to date someone when his daily reality includes guys trying to kill him?”
Pirate gave a little shrug. “I mean… yeah, fair. But have you talked to her about it? Told her the situation?”
“Pretty sure Yarder wouldn’t be thrilled about me handing out details of the Iron Fiends’ current shitstorm.”
Pirate nodded at my phone. “Then don’t tell her everything. Just give her enough to understand the kind of storm she’d be walking into. Let her decide what she wants.”
I pressed the heel of my hand to my eye socket and groaned. “Right. I’ll just say, ‘Hey, I’m being hunted by a couple of psychos, and if they find out we’re close, they might slit your throat in the grocery store parking lot. So… want to grab dinner?’ Sounds like a hell of a first date.”
Pirate chuckled under his breath. “You’re dramatic, man.”
I raised my head and stared at him. “I’m serious. Boone and Gibbs don’t play games. If they think for a second she matters to me—”
“You don’t know they’ll go after her.”
“No, but I know me. And I know what it would do to me if they did.”
Pirate leaned back in his chair. “Yarder said they’re pulling in, right? Closing their ranks. That means they’re feeling the heat. Leo and Brynn are watching every move. This thing will be over soon.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, “I’ll believe that when I see Boone bleeding out in a ditch.”
“Then tell her to leave you alone,” Pirate said, simple and blunt.
I glared at him.
He raised his eyebrows. “What? You’re not gonna do that either. So you either respond, or you ghost her and feel like a piece of shit about it. Pick your poison.”
“I need a pause button on my life,” I muttered and dragged a hand down my face. “That’s what I need. Just give me a damn pause until all this blows over.”
“Good luck finding one,” Pirate said and pushed up from his chair. “Let me know when you do.”
He walked over to the couch where Saylor was curled up with a blanket, watching something mindless on TV. They murmured something to each other, low and easy.
I stared at the screen again.
Hello.
That was all she’d said. No pressure. No accusation. Just… an opening.
She’d made the move. Now it was on me.
And as much as I wanted to pretend I was strong enough to ignore it, I wasn’t. I didn’t want to blow her off. I didn’t want to push her away.
But I also didn’t want to drag her into this world and watch her get crushed under the weight of it.
My fingers hovered over the screen.
Hey, babe.
Chapter Fourteen
Lainey
I shouldn’t have been surprised he texted me back. I was the one who started it, after all. But still, seeing Hey, babe pop up on my screen nearly knocked the wind out of me.
It was just two words. Nothing poetic. Nothing even remotely dramatic.
But babe. Babe was a lot for someone who hadn’t been in my life for sixteen years and then showed up again to watch tow truck drivers on my couch while I fell asleep.
I stared at the screen for way too long.
I needed to respond. I wanted to respond. But what the hell was I supposed to say?
I’m lonely, come over.
Lottie left me again and I don’t know what to do with myself.
Or the most humiliating and honest: I’ve been thinking about you all week and I want to see you.
Yeah, no. Definitely not going with that one.
Instead, my fingers typed out the dumbest, most Lainey-brand thing I could think of:
Want to watch some tow truck drivers with me? Pizza?
Brilliant. Just sheer Shakespeare-level brilliance.
I tossed the phone onto the couch and immediately face-planted into the pillow beside me.
“You’re an idiot,” I screamed into the fabric, the sound muffled but full of despair.
The ding of my phone made my stomach flip.
He was either telling me to get lost or, by some divine miracle, charmed by my awkwardness.
I sat up and grabbed the phone like it might disappear if I didn’t act fast. It had last time…
On my way.
Ope. Guess awkward charm was still in style.
My smile tugged wide across my face until I looked down at myself.
Ratty old sleep shorts and an oversized black shirt that used to be my favorite but had somehow developed a hole near the hem. Barefoot. No bra. Hair a mess.
Last time Duane came over, I didn’t even have pants on, but at least I thought I looked cute. That had been wine-induced confidence.
