“You didn’t know about Cody, babe, I didn’t know about your dad.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“I’ll remind you, you didn’t either.”

“Oh, you don’t have to remind me, Hopper. I remember. God, I remember,” I told him, the words sounding choked in the end so I swallowed as Hop shifted toward me but I took a step away so he stopped.

“This doesn’t work,” I declared.

“Yes, it does,” he contradicted.

“No,” I shook my head. “It doesn’t. We fight all the time.”

“We also fuck all the time.”

He had a point there, just not a good enough one.

“We don’t work,” I stated.

“Baby, the good we got, how can you say that?” he asked.

“I have a week and a half of knowing it, Hop,” I answered. “You cut me out.”

“You fucked up then I fucked up, babe. We’re gettin’ to know each other. That’ll happen and, just a head’s up, even when we got time and experience in, it’ll still happen.”

“You cut me out.”

“I fucked up.”

I leaned in and hissed, “You cut me out,” and he blinked at the sudden harshness of my tone. “Do you have any clue, any fucking clue how much pain I’ve been in? A week and a half, knowing I hurt you like that, knowing I forced you to relive that, knowing I did wrong, calling you, texting you, begging you to let me talk to you, apologizing and you not giving me anything?”

He stepped out on the stoop and I took another step away.

“Lanie, come here,” he urged.

“No.” I moved back another step.

“Goddamn it, Lanie, you’re gonna fall off the fuckin’ stoop,” he growled so I stepped down the two steps and stood on his front walk. “Jesus, lady, just come inside the fuckin’ house.”

“I wanted one night,” I reminded him.

“Lanie, baby—”

“That’s it. One night. But you pushed in, I let you in and now I remember, Hop. I remember what, for seven years, I’ve been guarding against.”

He stepped down. I stepped back.

“You have something, you have something to lose,” I went on, slowly backing up. “You don’t have anything, you have nothing to lose. I didn’t want any part of it but you made me want it then you gave me something and you took it away and reminded me how bad it hurts, how it kills to have something to lose.”

“Please, honey, fuckin’ come inside.”

“We’re done.”

“Take a deep breath, calm the drama, think a second then come the fuck inside.”

I stopped dead, he stopped dead and I pinned him with my eyes.

“This isn’t a drama, Hop. Pay attention. I’m not ranting. I’m not in a tizzy. I’ve given this a lot of thought. Thanks to you, I’ve had a good amount of time to think about it. And we’re done. I don’t need this pain. I’ve had twenty-eight years of living with this kind of pain, watching my mother endure it, and I’m done.”

His face went hard.

“I’m not doin’ to you what your motherfucker of a father is doin’ to your mother,” he growled.

“It’s not the same but it’s still heartbreak,” I returned and, just as quickly as it came, the hardness washed out of his features.

“Do not do this, Lanie.”

“It’s already done. It was done when you got off your bike, walked into your house and broke my heart. Just like my father. You didn’t even have it in you to do it up close and personal.”

He grabbed my arm but, with a savage twist, I pulled away and took two steps back.

“It was good you shielded your kids from what we might have been, Hop. I’ll miss them but they won’t miss me.”

“Jesus, fuck, babe, I’m beggin’ you, come inside.”

“Good-bye, Hop.”

“Baby—”

I turned and ran.

He turned and ran into his house.

He didn’t have his keys.

This was good.

This meant I got a head start and when I hit a motel parking lot, Hop had no idea where I was.

It was only when I was sitting cross-legged on the ratty bedspread did I allow myself to burst into tears.

* * *

Two days later…


I sat on my couch, twisted toward Tyra to my left, lifting a bent leg just like hers to rest it on the couch and I sucked back some wine.

Since I gave her the wineglass before I sat down, she’d already had her sip, so when I took my glass from my lips, she was prepared to launch in.

“I don’t blame you.”

I closed my eyes.

“Lanie, honey, look at me.”

I opened my eyes.

She leaned toward me and wrapped her fingers around my thigh. “I don’t blame you for me getting stabbed.”

“I know,” I whispered something I did know but had been denying for insane reasons until that moment I wouldn’t allow myself to get. Understandable fear after what happened that led to irrational guilt that no one gave me any indication I should feel. I just fed off it, or more to the point, let my monster feed on it in a vain and crazy attempt to keep myself safe from ever being hurt again.

“I hope so,” she told me. “Since I told you way back when that I didn’t.”

I drew in breath then confided, “I hear it over and over again in my head.”

Her head tipped to the side and she scooted closer. “You hear what in your head?”

“Our conversation. You telling me to end it with Elliott. You advising me that his getting us kidnapped was a concrete wall you can’t scale when it comes to love. Me telling you—”

“Stop it,” she interrupted, squeezing my thigh.

“I think that’s it, sweetie. I think that was why I couldn’t forgive myself even though you and Tack never blamed me. I think it’s because I play that conversation over and over in my head and it reminds me there was something that needed to be forgiven,” I admitted.

“Honey, you didn’t kidnap and stab me and you have to find some way to get that straight. I don’t know how to stop you playing that conversation in your head,” she stated. “I just know, together, Lanie, we have to find a way to do that.”

I took a sip of wine, my way of being noncommittal. I couldn’t tell her we could do that, since I hadn’t been able to do it for seven years. With this, I’d taken a big step. Who knew how long it would take me to get to the next one.

The day after the break with Hop, I’d called her and told her I was ready to do this. Not surprisingly, she’d told me to tell her when and where and she’d be there.

I gave her the when and where and last night, sleeping at home again, I waited for Hop to show or call.

He didn’t.

It was over.

That killed but I’d survived worse (I told myself) so now it was time to move on with my life. Do this. Fight the monster myself without Hop at my back.

And hope I won.

“I think this all might have to do with, uh… well, me getting you hurt, feeling guilt about it since you told me to dump Eli but also, mostly, that whole thing,” I waved my hand around, sloshing the wine I held dangerously, so I righted it and finished, “in Kansas City.”

“Do you think you need to talk to a professional?” she asked.

I put the wine to my lips, murmuring, “Maybe,” before I took a drink.

Her next question was voiced with hesitancy. “Do you want to talk about Kansas City?”

I didn’t.

Even so, I looked her straight in the eye and declared, “He used me as a shield.”

“I know,” she said so low I could barely here her.

“You know and you knew,” I stated and her head gave a slight jerk of confusion.

“I know and I knew?”

“You know what happened and you knew it would happen. That was what you tried to warn me about.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t know the Mob would find you in—”

“That’s not what I mean,” I cut her off. “You knew, in that situation or any situation in life, Elliott getting involved with the Mob at all stated it clear to you, he would not protect me.”

She sighed before she scooted closer, took another sip of wine, then locked her eyes with mine.

“Yes, I knew. There are some guys, and Elliott was one of them, that just aren’t built that way. Luckily, the Mob doesn’t normally enter someone’s life so they aren’t put to that test. I didn’t know, if it came down to bullets flying, he’d use you to take them for him. I just knew that he made a bad decision on how to invest money. Then, when he lost his money, he made a bad decision on how to get it back, and it just went downhill from there. So, yeah, I knew. But I didn’t love him, Lanie. Tack is the exact opposite of that. He’d fight, kill and die before he let anything happen to me, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t sometimes a pain in my ass. He is. Elliott made it worth it to you in his ways. Tack makes it worth it in his. It’s just the way it is.”

I couldn’t argue with this so I said nothing.

She took another sip of wine before she finished.

“It’s easier to see this stuff clearly when emotion isn’t involved and, remember Lanie, you didn’t want Tack for me in the beginning. You hated him, wanted me to quit and walk away. Pretty much any good girlfriend at that time, before he exposed the man he really is, would say the same thing because they care about their girl, not the guy. They see stuff from the outside, not with emotion coloring everything. Sometimes they’re right, like I was with Elliott. And sometimes they’re wrong, like you were with Tack. But neither of us had all the information. It’s just that you got it all when it was too late.”

That was very true.

I took a sip of my wine then set the glass on my coffee table, dropped my hands in my lap and looked at her.

“I dream of Kansas City.”