Page 6 of Desperation

His face was the last thing I thought of before drifting off to sleep. I wish it hadn’t been. He invaded my dreams, and when a loud pounding on my door woke me sometime later, I was all hot and sweaty again, but for a different reason.Damn pregnancy hormones.

The sound grew louder and more insistent as I shook the sleep from my head. Throwing off the covers, I headed for the door.

“Hannah, are you in there?” Devon's voice sounded from outside when I was only a few steps from the door. He sounded frantic. What the hell was wrong?

I flung open the door, and he stepped inside, invading my space.

“Is everything alright?” He framed my shoulders with his big hands and searched my face. My confusion slowly started to fade as the afternoon sun poured in through the front door.

“Yeah, what time is it?”

“It’s after two. I’ve been knocking on that door for ten minutes. I was about thirty seconds away from kicking it in. I thought something was wrong. I thought maybe…” His voice trailed off, but I read his unspoken concern. He thought Drake was home.

“I was taking a nap.” My voice was husky from sleep and breathy from his proximity. He finally came to himself and dropped his hands, taking a few steps back. His eyes widened when he took me in, and I glanced down to see what had captured his attention.

I was wearing sleep shorts and a flowy tank that almost hid the fact that I was nearly seven months pregnant.Almost. My legs were bare, my shoulders exposed, and his eyes were drinking it all in. When his gaze reached my middle, a pained look crossed his features, and he swallowed hard before looking away. Shame overcame me. I shouldn’t have wanted his hungry look. I shouldn’t have dreamed of what his rough, calloused hands would feel like on my skin.

“I need to get dressed,” I muttered and ducked my head before retreating to my room.

I slipped on a flowy, lightweight sundress and combed my hair into a ponytail before stepping into my flip flops. When I returned to the front room, Devon was slowly meandering through the small space. He took in the room, surveying it almost like a crime scene. He picked up a framed photograph of Drake and me on our one year anniversary. I still looked vibrant and healthy, young and in love. It was taken before things started to get bad.

“I’m ready,” I blurted out. I couldn’t stand to see him look at that picture, fearing what he would see. It made no sense, but I didn’t want him to see us happy. I didn’t want him to think the couple in that picture was the same as the couple of today.

He glanced at me and nodded, not sparing me more than a second before placing the frame back on the end table. I followed him to the door, grabbing my keys and purse before walking outside. A blanket of thick, stifling heat slammed into me, taking my breath for a moment. My torso was already thick, my expanding belly crowding the space my lungs needed to draw in a deep breath, and the humid air did little to help. Beads of sweat formed instantly on my brow.

We slipped silently into his truck, and he cranked the ignition. Instantly, cool air pelted my skin, and I closed my eyes, sinking into the passenger seat. I let my head fall back on the headrest and soaked in the rescuing chill of his air conditioner. I felt his gaze on me but didn’t have the energy to lift my head. Between the unearthly humidity and my limited lung capacity, my breaths were labored from the effort it took to walk to his truck and climb inside. My chest heaved as my head lulled to the side, and I let my eyes drift open. His eyes darted away, and he cleared his throat.

“It’s miserable out today. Do you want to stop for ice cream before we pick up the truck?” Surprised, I lifted my head and gaped at him. I wasn’t expecting that, and his kind offer took me off guard.

“I would love that, but I don’t have my wallet with me.”Not that there’s much of anything in there.

“Don’t worry about that. It’s my treat.”Why would he do that?I was instantly suspicious. He knew I was Drake’s girl. Why would he offer to take me to get ice cream? Was it some kind of trick? Was he hoping to get me to spill the beans about our relationship? Would he tell Drake and make it look like I was being unfaithful?

My head was spinning from his simple offer. I’d grown to question everyone’s intentions. Drake always had ulterior motives. Nothing he did was ever out of the kindness of his heart.

I should turn him down, just say no. I could lie and tell him I was lactose intolerant, but ice cream sounded like a dream. The cold sweetness was exactly what I needed right now.

“Okay,” I conceded quietly. “Thank you,” I added hurriedly, not wanting to appear ungrateful.

We pulled up to the local dairy bar, and Devon asked for my order, instructing me to stay inside where it was cool while he ordered our food. He came back with two giant cups and a white paper bag bursting at the seams. When his door clicked shut behind him, the aroma from the sack of goodies wafted toward me, and my mouth watered.

He shot me an impish grin as he passed me the peanut butter milkshake I’d requested. “I got hungry while I was ordering,” he explained, unrolling the top of the bag and opening it. The scent multiplied, and I had to fight the urge to lick my lips. “I grabbed some burgers, fries, cheese curds, and mozzarella sticks. I wasn’t sure what you liked so I got a little of everything.” I nearly teared up at his thoughtfulness. I hadn’t asked for anything to eat, but my stomach had been rumbling on the way over here. I slept through lunch and had hurried out the door without a second thought, eager to get Drake’s truck back. I swallowed past the lump in my throat once, twice, and finally after a third time, I was able to speak without my voice shaking.

“Thank you. That sounds great.” He handed me a foil wrapped cheeseburger, and I flinched when his fingers brushed over mine. I pulled my hand away quickly, my face heating. He remained silent. If he noticed, he had the decency not to let on. I peeled the foil from my burger and sunk my teeth into it. So much for that healthy eating.

A little noise escaped me as I chewed, savoring the mixture of greasy beef, melty cheese, and tangy pickles. The sound of Devon’s breath hissing between his teeth drew my gaze to his. He was watching me, his eyes zeroed in on my mouth. I paused, my heart rate picking up steam until it thundered in my ears. After a moment, he shook himself but then reached for me. I froze, paralyzed by the anticipation of his touch. He brushed a flimsy paper napkin over the corner of my mouth, and I finally swallowed the bit I’d been chewing.

“You had a little mustard there,” he explained, nodding toward the spot he’d wiped.

“Oh, thanks,” I replied shyly. We nearly finished the contents of the bag and drank down our shakes as we drove to the body shop.The pristine shiny truck was waiting just outside an open bay door. Devon pulled up next to it and parked. I followed behind him, the tight ball of anxiety that settled in my chest the moment my bumper collided with his finally starting to unravel as we stalked toward the office. Devon’s friend caught sight of us and stood, offering a greeting.

“Hey, guys. Truck’s all finished.” He reached for a peg board next to his desk and swiped a set of keys from it, offering them to Devon before the two men shook hands. “She’s good to go.” I fought an eye roll at his feminine distinction of an inanimate object. I never could figure why guys did that with their cars.

Devon thanked him and led me outside, handing the keys over when we reached the driver’s side door of my escape vehicle. I was a little weary of climbing behind the wheel again, afraid I would somehow find my way into another accident on the short drive home. He opened the door for me, and I hesitated, my teeth digging into the inside of my cheek. My reluctance didn’t go unnoticed.

“It’s okay.” Devon’s voice was low and melodic, a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. “It’s completely normal to be afraid to drive after an accident.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “It was just a little fender bender. I shouldn’t be scared at all.” But I was; not for the reason he thought, though.

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