Page 15 of Desperation

“Yes, I do,” he countered, his face set with determination. “Do you think it will end when you have the baby? Do you think he’s going to take one look at that child’s face and be a changed man?”

His condescension made me feel small and naïve, and I didn’t like it. Part of me had hoped that was exactly what would happen. I hoped fatherhood would change him. He had been better over the last several months since finding out about the baby. After his last outburst, he promised me it would never happen again. I’d started to pack a bag, but he’d begged me to stay. I had no idea where I would’ve gone, but I had been determined to figure it out once I'd left.

“He promised.” My voice was low and timid, apprehensive even.

“And you believe him?” he asked incredulously.

“He’s trying,” was all I could say. He turned from me then, looking as though he wanted to shake some sense into me. He kept his hands to himself, though, and that little fact didn’t escape my notice. He paced back and forth for a moment, running his hands through his hair and over his face in frustration.

“He’s never going to change. He’s been the same since we were kids. He solves problems with his fists and bulldozes anyone who gets in his way. I’m surprised he hasn’t gone to jail and can hold down a job.” He finally stopped pacing and came to stand directly in front of me. He was so close I could feel the heat from his skin and smell the subtle spice of his cologne. I fought the urge to bury my face in his broad chest and inhale. “He destroys everything he touches, and he will destroy you if you stay.”

A tear slipped free and rolled down my cheek. I wanted to believe the best of Drake. I wanted to believe he could change, that he would love our baby enough to become a better man, but part of me feared Devon was right.

“We’re having a baby,” I cried. “How am I supposed to leave the father of my child?”

“You could come with me.” My jaw dropped, and my mouth hung open for a moment before I remembered to close it. Did he just offer to take me away?

“I don’t understand,” I replied, confusion clouding my mind. “Aren’t you leaving soon? You’re still on active duty and can deploy any time. How could you take me anywhere? Drake would never let me go without a fight.”

“I don’t know, but I need to get you out of here. I would find somewhere for you to stay until I come back. I’m getting out. I’m leaving the SEALs.”

“What?” I exclaimed. He seemed so passionate about his work. I assumed he’d be doing it for much longer. I had no idea he was trying to get out.

“That’s why I’m dressed like this.” He motioned to himself. “I had an interview today. I’m getting out,” he repeated.

My mind reeled. I couldn’t think. It was all too much. Devon was trying to get out of the SEALs and just offered to help me escape from Drake. Elation warmed me from the inside out, and for a moment, I let myself dream of the possibilities. It wasn’t exactly the out I’d been looking for, but it was something.

Then the harsh, cold reality settled over me, heavy and ominous. Wasn’t that exactly how I ended up in my current situation? I was looking for a knight in shining armor to rescue me from my awful foster parents when Drake showed up on his Harley with promises of love, adventure, and happily ever after. I took his offer and never looked back, and look where that got me.

“I appreciate the offer,” I began, stepping back, “but I’m not leaving. Drake and I are having a baby, and he deserves the chance to get to know his son.” A pained look crossed over Devon’s features, but I continued. I needed to get this out before I lost my nerve. “He’s made mistakes, and he’s even hurt me, but everyone deserves a second chance. I owe it to myself and my child to give him the opportunity to be a part of our lives.”

Resigned, he nodded his acquiescence and took a crumpled up receipt from his pocket. “Do you have a pen?” he asked. I rummaged through the junk drawer until I found one and handed it to him. He scribbled something across it and handed it back to me. “If you change your mind, or if”—he swallowed thickly, his eyes darting away from mine— “things get worse, here’s my number.” He pointed to the ten digits scrawled across the top. “If I’m overseas, and you can’t reach me, call this number.” He moved his pointer finger to the number beneath his. When he didn’t explain, I asked whose number it was. “It’s the domestic violence hotline.”

My stomach dropped, and bile rose in my throat. I couldn't believe he’d uttered those words out loud.Domestic violence. They were a dirty little secret we didn’t talk about. They made me feel ashamed and cowardly, and I never wanted to hear them spoken in regards to me or my situation again. I wanted to ball up the paper and throw it in his face, but I couldn’t.

“Don’t let him find that paper. Hide it somewhere he’ll never think to look, because if he finds it…” He let the rest hang in the air. He didn’t need to say any more. I knew the consequences.

“I understand.” We stood there for a moment, our heads hung low. I didn’t want him to leave, but I needed him to go.

“I don’t know if I’ll come back before heading out again,” he said finally, breaking the silence. “If I don’t see you before I leave, take care.”

I looked at him then, staring into the steely depths of his eyes. They pleaded with me, for what I wasn’t sure. His gaze dropped to my mouth, and I held my breath, certain he would kiss me. I was okay with it this time because I knew he was leaving. I wanted his lips on me before he left, a final kiss goodbye. But the kiss never came. He turned and walked out the door, leaving me hoping he’d come back one day.

Chapter Eleven

Devon

The hardest thing I’d ever had to do in my entire life was leave Hannah there, knowing she was staying with Drake. Not even SEAL training could compare to the pain I felt. I wanted to kiss her goodbye, but I couldn’t. Not that she wouldn’t have let me, because I believed in the depths of my soul she wanted that too. I could see it in her eyes, the way they flared when I came close to her, and she stared at my mouth. The problem was that I would’ve never been able to stop at one kiss. I would’ve lifted her onto the counter and ravaged her mouth with mine until her lips were pink and swollen. I would’ve torn those shorts down her legs and worshipped her, using my mouth to make her see stars burst behind her lids. Her body would quake beneath me within minutes because I would have claimed her right then and there, consequences be damned. We would have done something we couldn’t come back from, and once I made her mine, I’d never be able to leave her with Drake again. I didn’t care that it was his baby growing in her stomach, or that he’d been with her for three years. His claim on her was coming to an end.

I took a detour on the way back to my mom’s house, pulling up to the beach she used to take me to as a kid. Unbuttoning my shirt, I slid it off my arms, revealing the plain white tee underneath. Once I hit the sand, I removed my shoes and socks and rolled up my pants legs. Walking to the water, I let the shallow waves wash over my feet, the sun on my face and the breeze offering a momentary reprieve from the heat. No matter where I roamed, Virginia Beach would always be home. I hoped that my interview this morning sealed the deal, and I’d get to stay next time I came back. I was even more drawn to this place now that I knew Hannah. She was completely incandescent, and I was drawn to her light. Every dark, tortured part of me yearned to bask in the warmth of her glow.

She was all I could think about as I drove home, the smell of the ocean clinging to me. I wondered what she’d smell like with salt on her skin and sand in her hair. If I ever got the chance to find out, I’d be a lucky man.

My mom was cooking dinner when I got home. Leaning in, I gave her a quick peck on the cheek and dipped my finger into the sauce she was stirring. She swatted my hand away, but she was laughing.

“Keep your dirty hands out of the food,” she warned playfully. I was glad to see her up and moving so well. “Why don’t you wash up and set the table?” I did as she asked. It was only three in the afternoon, but I was starving and more than ready for some homemade fettuccine alfredo. I cut up the veggies for a salad and pulled the hot pan with crispy garlic bread from the oven. My mother beamed up at me, and my chest constricted, the ache settling in and nearly suffocating me. She wouldn’t be here forever, and I would miss her like my next breath when she was gone.

From the beginning, it had been me and her against the world. My dad was around for the first thirteen years of my life, but he worked a lot and was never very involved. We sat around the dinner table as a family most nights, but that was about the extent of our interactions. My mother was an angel. She did everything for me and exercised saint-like patience when I started going through my rebellious phase. I regretted all the hardships I’d put her through just because I was a punk.

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