Whiskey Lullaby(15)

Hannah laughed. “Benjamin? Aw, that’s adorable.”

“Itn’t it?” Grandma nodded. “Give me that photo album back, boy.”

I shook it at her. “No, ma’am, I know what’s on that next page.”

She pushed up from the chair, grumbling as she tossed her hand into the air, her house slippers shuffling over the floor on her way to the kitchen. I tucked the album back in its place on the built-in bookshelf by the fireplace.

“What was next, huh?” Hannah pried.

“A picture of me in a full body cast.”

“What?”

“I fell out of the neighbor’s window when I was four.”

“Aw, that’s terrible.”

“Yep.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Terrible, alright.”

The worst part of it wasn’t the body cast—that is sad—it was the fact that they didn’t make kid’s clothes that fit over that shit, so in the picture, I’m standing there in my body cast with a scowl on my face and my pecker just hanging out. I mean, sure I was a kid, but I don’t want this girl seeing that, and my grandma sure as shit would have shown her.

A low, Frankenstein’s monster-like moan came from the end of the hallway. Hannah craned her neck around the corner, glancing down the hall as her brother came stumbling out of the bedroom with his hand clutched to his head. “Never again…”

“Dear Lord,” she sighed. “Daddy’s gonna know you’ve been drinking.” The second she got within three feet of him, she waved her hand in front of her face, her nose wrinkling. “You smell like a Tennessee distillery.”

Bo slumped against the wall and glared at her. “Not helping.”

“Give him some gum and he’ll be fine,” I said.

“I don’t think gum is gonna help”—she circled her hand over his face—“this.”

Shrugging a shoulder, I nodded toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get your truck out.”

__





I leaned through the open window of the truck and glanced back at Hannah sitting behind the wheel of mine. She looked so tiny and out of place. “Back it up.”

She pulled the gear down so hard her hair bounced, then she floored it. I pressed my foot on the gas, but the wheels only spun. Dirt and mud slung everywhere. I put it back in park and leaned through the window again. “Hang on a sec, Hannah.” I turned the wheel. “Alright. Floor it.”

The engine revved. I watched in the rearview as the truck fishtailed. “It’s fine,” I shouted as loud as I could, pressing the accelerator. The tires squealed. The Bible on John’s dashboard flew into the floorboard when the tires jumped over the rut the truck was stuck in. I slammed on the brakes, put it in park, and opened the door, leaving the truck running.

Bo stumbled into the tree line to vomit. Hannah was already climbing out of my truck. “Thanks,” she said, shutting the door.

“No problem.”

She tossed my keys at me when she passed by, and I grabbed onto her arm, stopping her. “It was nice hanging out with you last night, you know, just talking.” I looked her in the eyes, hard. I wanted her to know that wasn’t some bullshit line. I meant it.

A soft smile slowly inched over her lips. “It was…”

Bo staggered out from the tree line, wiping his mouth before he yanked open the door to their truck and crawled inside.

“Seriously, give him some whiskey.”

“What? Are you crazy, he’ll vomit everywhere. He needs fluids.”

Half rolling my eyes, I patted her back. “Yeah, yeah, nursey, I know, but I’m telling you, give him some whiskey, some water, and a Tylenol. He’ll be fucking golden.”

She glared at me with curiosity, and I liked it. I liked the way she looked at me like I was something she shouldn’t touch but wanted to, because that was exactly how I felt about her. “Trust me,” I said.

“Okay, Noah Greyson, I’ll trust you this once.” She smiled before pulling herself into the cab of the truck. Without another word, she shut the door and spun the truck around.

I took a step back, watching the taillights disappear down the overgrown path.

That girl… God, I knew I could hurt her and I didn’t want to do that, so as much as it felt like the planets lined up just to throw us into each other’s orbits, I swore to myself I would ignore it and walk away.

Some things in life, you just don’t want to taint.





14





Hannah





The long country road stretched out in front of me for what seemed like forever. Blue skies hung overhead with only a few, puffy clouds.

I kept replaying the way Noah sang to me the night before. The way he didn’t try anything—The truck bounced over a pothole and Bo grunted. “What are you over there grinnin’ about?” Bo asked.

“What?”

“You’ve got this dumb grin on your face.” He rested his head against the window.

I glanced in the rearview. Sure enough, I had the stupidest looking smile plastered on my face.

“I hope you didn’t sleep with him.”

“What!” I glared at him, and I could just feel that the scowl on my face probably looked like Momma: one brow arched, my nostrils slightly flared.

“He’s nice, but come on, Hannah. You’re too good for him.”

I faced the road with both hands gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles washed white, my entire body tensed.

“Don’t believe me, huh?”

I didn’t say anything, just flicked the blinker a little too hard.

“He’s been in jail. Rumor has it he screwed Darlene at some party around New Year’s.”

“She’s seventeen.”

“Exactly.” He shrugged. “I mean, I like him and all, but do you think Dad would be okay with you dating him?”

“I don’t want to date him, Bo,” I huffed. “And I’m twenty years old, it doesn’t matter what Daddy thinks.”

“Okay,” he laughed. “I mean, I may be younger than you, but I’m not stupid.”

I turned to shoot another mother-glare at him and he had his eyes crossed with his tongue stuck halfway out of his mouth, like a half-drugged dog. “That’s what you looked like this morning.”

I grabbed one of Daddy’s leather work gloves from the drink holder and whacked him with it. “I oughtta…”

“But you won’t, because you’re my Nanner, and you’re just too nice.” He chuckled, more than pleased with himself as I turn into the drive.

“I want to kill you.”

“I love you too, sis.”

_





It had been a week since I’d fallen asleep in Noah’s truck. A week since I’d seen him because he was always gone by the time I got home from work. But more importantly, during that past week, Momma had been feeling better. I wanted to be hopeful, but I knew it was par for the course. A few weeks after chemo, patients feel better, and then as soon as they go back for treatment, they’re down for the count.

Momma took a seat at her dressing table and I stood behind her running the brush through her hair, horrified when a large clump came out in the brush. It’s something that you can’t truly appreciate until you see it happen. It’s just hair, after all, but it’s such a cruel reminder that something terrible is wrong. I tried to subtly drop the brush to my side when I pulled the hair from it. I wadded it up and tossed it into the small trashcan beside the dressing table.

“Baby,” she said, reaching up and grabbing the hand I was using to brush her hair. “It’s okay.”

I took a steadying breath. She smiled before glancing in the mirror. “We should just shave it.” She nodded. “Sinead O’Connor—I always thought she was beautiful. You think I could pull that look off?”

I leaned down beside her and looked at her in the mirror. “You could pull off any look with an abundance of grace.”

Sighing, she wrapped her arm around me and pulled my cheek against hers. “You make all this easier.”

I choked back the tears and moved away, patting her arm. “Want me to get Daddy’s electric razor?” I should have said thank you, maybe told her I loved her, but all I wanted to do was pretend it was all okay. I wanted peace.

Twenty minutes later, there was a circle of hair on the floor, and she was rubbing her hand over a smooth head. “Well”—she inhaled before grabbing a tube of mascara from the dressing table—“all I need is mascara.”

Even without hair, she was still beautiful.

She swept a coat of mascara on before standing and holding out her arms. “What do you think your father will say?”

“I’m certain he’ll love it.”

“Think he’ll call me a rebel?” She arched a thinning brow.

“I’m sure he will.”

Momma stared straight ahead at her reflection, and after a few seconds, her expression fell, and the smile slowly faded. Swallowing, she dropped her chin to her chest, but before I could say a word, she was making her way to her walk-in closet and shutting the door.

“Momma?” I stepped to the closet door and tapped over the painted wood. “You okay?”

The knob twisted. The door swung open and Momma walked out, wearing one of her white, floral dresses. She moved past me to the doorway, stopping and grabbing the doorframe to catch her breath.