Page 18 of Desperation

“Good idea. Nothing goes better with pizza than cookies,” Devon declared.

Drake huffed out a laugh and opened the fridge. “Nothing goes better with pizza than beer,” he corrected, pulling out a can and cracking it open to emphasize his point. “That’s why I got a case.”

Chapter Thirteen

Devon

“I hope you ordered pepperoni and didn't let her talk you into getting that nasty shit she eats on pizza.” He motioned toward Hannah, shivering dramatically like the mere thought disgusted him.Idiot.

I’d texted him earlier to let him know I planned to stop by and provide dinner. He offered to provide the booze, but I didn’t really care. I didn’t plan to do much drinking tonight anyway. I wanted to keep a clear head around Hannah.

“Don’t worry. I only got that on half,” I assured him.

“Half?” he asked incredulously. “She’s never gonna eat that much pizza!”

“I kinda wanted to try it too.” I shrugged. That was a lie. I thought it sounded gross, but I wasn’t in the mood to deal with his whiny ass. Besides, if I could distract him with talk of pizza and beer, maybe he’d forget how guilty we both looked when he got home, and how Hannah couldn't meet his eye.

When the pizza finally arrived, we each took a couple of oversized pieces.

“This is my favorite pizza shop,” Hannah gushed when she saw the box.

“I’m glad I decided to order from there then.” I smiled at her, and her cheeks flushed, making her look even younger than her twenty years. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Drake go still, and his burning gaze bore into me, burrowing beneath my skin. I ignored the sensation and dropped my eyes to my plate, shifting focus to the half-eaten slice in my hand. Bringing it to my mouth, I tore off a piece, chewed, and swallowed before taking another enthusiastic bite. “This really is good pizza,” I declared, finally looking at Drake.

“Yeah,” he replied gruffly, eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion. “We used to eat there about once a week when we first started dating.” He turned to look at Hannah and gave her an affectionate smile. “Before she learned how to cook all the fancy stuff she makes now.”

“I wouldn’t call what I make fancy, but I do try to find recipes I know you’ll like.” She basked in his praise. It was apparent to anyone paying attention that she didn’t get it often.

“She spoils me,” Drake announced, grinning around a mouthful of food.

When our plates were empty and everyone had their fill, Hannah excused herself, leaving me at the table with my cousin. He watched her retreating form disappear down the hall, turning to me once she was out of sight.

“I am one lucky bastard,” he proclaimed. I stayed silent, unwilling to take the bait, and I took a swig of the beer I’d been nursing all through dinner. “Pay attention, cuz, ’cause I got a little advice for ya if you ever decide to settle down.” Well, this ought to be good. “Find ’em young and domesticate ’em early.” My jaw clenched to avoid gritting my teeth or saying something that would start a fight. He took my silence as an invitation to keep going. “Hannah was ripe for the picking and easy to train. She was looking for someone to love and a place to call her own.” He leaned in close like he was about to divulge a secret. “I gave her exactly what she wanted, and in return she treats me like the Lord of the manor.” He settled back in his chair, a smug smile spreading over his face. “She keeps my house clean, has dinner ready for me when I come home, and keeps me warm at night; if you know what I mean.”

With every word he spoke, my fists clenched tighter and tighter beneath the table until I was sure I’d feel blood trickling down my hand from my nails digging into my palms. From the chest up, I appeared calm and collected, but inside there was a storm brewing. It raged and swelled just below the surface, ready to unleash hell on anyone who stepped into its path. Just when I thought all my fury would break loose, striking him down like a bolt of lightning, Hannah returned to the table. She gently rubbed her stomach as she settled into the chair across from me.

“Anybody want a cookie? They should be cool enough to eat by now,” she offered, oblivious to the simmering rage about to boil over. The timer had gone off while we were eating, and she’d taken the pan from the oven. I wasn't sure I could stomach anything after hearing the way Drake talked about her, and how she was basically a warm body for his bed and a glorified housekeeper. But I didn’t want to hurt her feelings by refusing her. After all, I'd helped her make them. Sort of. They were special. They wereours.

“Sure,” I replied, forcing a smile.

“You already know my answer. I’m always down for eating your cookie,” Drake joked, pawing at her.

“Drake,” she gasped, her face flushing in embarrassment. He pulled her in for a kiss, and she visibly stiffened. Was she thinking about the kiss we’d shared earlier? Did she think he would know somehow, that he could taste the betrayal on her tongue? Or did she just not want his kiss anymore? I hoped it was the last one. If he noticed her reluctance, he didn’t let on. He held onto her for long seconds, his lips pressed firmly to hers. When they finally broke apart, her cheeks were a deep shade of pink, and I wanted to pummel Drake for embarrassing her like that.

She hastily added some cookies to a plate and placed it in the center of the table. She looked mortified and ready to run out of the room at any second. But Drake couldn’t even grant her retreat.

“Hey, babe, do we have any vanilla ice cream left? It’d be really good with this.”

“I-I don’t know. I can look.”

“Would you please?” he asked sweetly and shot me a smirk. She pulled the freezer open and rummaged through it, bringing out a carton of ice cream.

“Found it,” she announced and retrieved a few bowls. Scooping a serving into each, she nestled two warm, gooey cookies next to the mound of ice cream and placed one in front of each of us. She passed Drake and I spoons before digging into her own dessert. She really did spoil him, trying so hard to please him. Did she think she had to do those things to earn her keep, or did she genuinely like taking care of him? Both possibilities made my stomach sour.

“Are the cookies not any good?” Hannah’s voice drew me out of my thoughts, and I looked up. I hadn’t realized I’d gone quiet, staring blankly into my bowl.

“Uh, no,” I stuttered. “They’re fine. I just, uh, didn’t realize how full I was from the pizza.” I tentatively dug my spoon into the cookie, scooping up a bit of ice cream with the bite, and brought it to my mouth. The still warm chocolate chips and cold vanilla creaminess melted on my tongue, and my earlier nausea was forgotten. Hannah watched me chew with a hopeful gleam in her eyes, and she smiled when I muttered a satisfied “Mmm.”

Being under her approving gaze was like basking in the sun after a long, cold winter. It warmed me from the inside out, hope filling my chest for a brighter future. The moment was broken, and that flood of relief was dammed up in an instant.

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