Hansel 4(27)

I don’t fucking know.

As I stand up, the answer comes to me: Next time I’m here, I’ll be by myself. The thickness in my throat tells me how much I’ll be missing Leah.

Fuck.

I turn away and run my hand along a One Direction poster till I get myself together. Jesus. All I need to do is buy some panties and a bra. Except, well fuck, that’s sexist, isn’t it? The average woman is stronger than the average man. I believe that.

I think about the way Leah pursued me. Coming to me with that mask on. Coming back, even though she knew how royally fucked up I was, having taken care of my blackout drunk ass the night before.

By the time we go downstairs, Leah and Kin are walking in front of me, talking about Gabe, some prick who wants to take my baby girl to prom. We see Melissa and Rob in the kitchen. They’ve got chips and dip, and covert smiles aimed my way.

I arch my brows at Melissa, and the next hour unfurls without a lot of fuss. Sipping beer in the backyard. Kin’s younger sister, Blyss, comes home, and the two of them do cartwheels while we old folks talk about how cold it is for this time of the year.

The drive back to the hotel is quiet, and longer than it felt on the way over. My hand burns for Leah’s, but she keeps hers in her lap. I take it for the sign I know it is. I can’t seem to look at her as I navigate the interstate. The heat is on, and the air feels too thick for my throat.

Leah seems to feel it, too. I hear her swallowing a time or two. I hear her clothing wshhh as she shifts around in my passenger seat. Is this the last time? After we part ways at the hotel, will I ever see her again?

I try to focus on the road. The last few miles of our drive go by so quickly, I’m surprised when my navigation system tells me to turn into the hotel parking lot. As soon as I shift the car into park, a painful, prickling heat sweeps through me, neck to thighs. I have to force my head to turn and look at Leah.

Her eyes are on the car parked in front of us. Because she can’t look me in the eye, either.

“Thanks for coming with me,” I hear myself say.

I think back to how I kind of forced her into going with me. That’s fucking embarrassing.

“I hope you didn’t have a bad time.”

“Are you kidding me?” Her voice squeaks. “No way.” She turns toward me and smiles. “I had a great time.” But her eyes are troubled.

“Don’t worry about your mom, okay? I’m not gonna ask her to do that. She didn’t know. Mother used to brag about the way she’d get kids. The fake resume that she would give. It’s fucked up, yeah, but it was all just…fate or some shit.”

Leah’s eyes widen. Her mouth pulls into an offended little ‘o’. “Don’t say that.”

“Why?”

Her brows pinch together, and she gives me a skeptical look. It quickly turns to disappointment. “You don’t remember…?”

I frown. “No. Should I?”

She shrugs, looking out the window for a moment before returning her blue eyes to mine. “You said one time that good stuff should be attributed to fate, and bad stuff more like accidents. I can’t stand to know you think of Mother’s house as fate. That’s not your fate.” Her eyes glimmer, and I can feel my stomach curl into a knot.

“How do you know,” I ask her, hoarse, “that I view it as bad stuff?”

Her brows raise. “Don’t you?”

“I think I just answered that,” I tell her.

“What do you mean?”

I sit there, very still, my heart pounding, my lungs straining, and tell myself to shut the fuck up. I swallow down the words I want to say and even get out of the car. I know what I should do—that I should stop and turn around. Tell her that, yes, lately, when I think about it, I’ve began to consider Mother’s house part of my fate. If there is such a thing. I should say it was my destiny to go through hell at the hands of a mad woman because it gave me Kin. And I should end things there.

I can lie to her. She would be better off. I can almost fucking bet she would be better off without me in her life. So I should do that. I should do whatever I need to, to send her on her way.

Instead, I find myself walking briskly through the lobby, with Leah on my heels. I’m on the fifth floor, but I don’t stop for the elevator. I can’t. I have to move, to keep moving. If I stop—

Just move, Lucas.

I hear her panting as she tries to catch me on the second flight of stairs.

And then she does.

She grabs my elbow, and I freeze in place.

“Luke, what are you doing?” she says, stepping around me, so she can look into my face. “What’s the matter?” Her blue eyes are wide and sorry. “Is it something that I said?” Her shoulders heave, because she’s breathing hard. From chasing me.