Page 15 of Protecting What Is Mine

I’ve got to say something. I’ve got to do something.

Without so much as a glint of hesitation, Hank steps into Clint’s finger poke as he moves to set our drinks on the table. As a result, Clint's arm is pushed back into his chest as Hank's shoulder bumps his. The action isn’t aggressive, per se, but it catches Clint by surprise and forces him to shuffle to maintain his footing.

With his hands now free, Hank takes a half-step back, standing confident and tall as he clears his throat. “Friend, I don’t know what you’re looking for here, but this is your lucky night. I’m going to offer you a one-time pass. But, it expires in thirty seconds. You’re welcome to that beer there.” Hank points to the table. “I suggest you take that drink—my treat—and you move along. Now.”

“And if I don’t? Friend.” Clint growls.

That’s enough. The connection between my brain and my mouth may not work, but I refuse to allow Clint to walk back into my life and immediately start tearing it apart. I’m not the same girl he used to push around. I leap out of my seat and step between the two goliaths, pushing against them with all my strength. “Clint, please! Just back off.” My eyes well up as fear of what might happen next takes hold.

I glance back and forth between them. The look on Clint’s face is the same as ever. Cold and emotionless.

But the look on Hank is the opposite. When he sees me standing between them, shaking in fear, his eyes soften, and his shoulders relax a fraction. “You want to get out of here, babe?” he asks.

I turn away from Clint and vigorously bob my head. “Yes. Please. Anywhere else would be better at this point.”

Hank steps forward again to pick up his hat from the table, then takes my hand in his and leads me toward the door.

“Don’t worry, cuz. I’ll be seeing you again. Real soon,” Clint yells as we walk away.

Not a word is spoken between us as Hank walks me to his truck, opens the door, and helps me in. Not a word is spoken as he brings the engine to life, backs into the empty street, and throws the truck into gear. There is nothing to break the silence but the sound of wind whistling past the cab as we drive through the dark night.

“Hank,” I finally begin. “Let me explain.”

Hank’s eyes remain focused on the road, but he shakes his head. “No need. I would have guessed old boyfriend. But the whole ‘cuz’ bit as we were leaving sort of gave it away.”

“Right.” I bite my bottom lip. “Yeah. But it’s more than that. It’s…it’s…a long story. You know—family history and all that.”

Hank nods. “I understand family history. Any reason to worry? I mean, he didn’t seem too pleased about not getting to finish your conversation. Whatever it was about.”

I pause. Hank’s right. And if I know anything about Clint, he wasn’t joking when he said he’d be seeing me again. But I don’t want to worry him, and I’m not ready to risk letting my family drama ruin another relationship.

Even if it is premature to think of this—whatever it is happening between Hank and me—as a relationship. “Nah. I’m sure he was just drunk and talking trash.”

“Alright then. Guess I probably ought to take you home?” Hank asks quietly.

I don’t want to go home. I don’t want this evening to be over. And I certainly don’t want it to end this way. “Okay.” My head falls, saddened by the turn the evening has taken.

It’s just past ten p.m. when Hank pulls into the driveway. By the glow of the television seeping through the gap of the drapes, it looks like Sam may still be awake. Worry over whether I should tell her about Clint grips me. She deserves to know. But can’t it wait until morning? Doesn’t she deserve at least one more good night of sleep before her world comes crashing down?

Hank doesn’t shut off the engine. He doesn’t hop out and come to my side to open my door for me. He sits quietly for a minute, then slides his hand off the wheel and places it on my knee. “I’m sorry about tonight. Truly. Maybe I should’ve handled it differently…better.” He clears his throat. “Maybe if I’d taken a second to find out he’s your cousin…”

“Please don’t think this is your fault. Not for a second. Clint. That’s my cousin. He’s not a nice man. Even if you had sat down with us, politely introduced yourself, and offered to buy him a drink, he would’ve pushed you until you’d had enough. It’s what he does. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

Hank lightly squeezes my knee. “Why in the hell should you be sorry? You didn’t know he was going to be there tonight.”

“No, but…if he hadn’t shown up, maybe I would have gotten to hear you sing?” I place my hand on his and lightly return his squeeze as I giggle to myself.

Through the dim light from the dash, I see the corners of Hank’s mouth curl into a smile. He bobs his head. “Now we’ll never know what might have been.”

With that, the tension between us fades. Everything else about the evening falls away, and it’s just Hank and me.

I scooch across the bench seat, nudging myself closer as I lean in to kiss him goodnight.

Hank lifts his hand from my leg, moving it behind my head and guiding my mouth to his. Our lips touch and fireworks ignite inside me. His touch. His kiss. They’re lightning in a summer storm, illuminating the night sky. Beautiful and terrifying.

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