Hannah
One year later
Ihear Ruth screaming from upstairs as I head round the side of the house.
Brigid’s good with her, but babies cry, that’s one thing I’ve learned over the past three months.
I’m grateful for my sister’s help. She could have walked out just like Dietrich did, never looked back, kept all her acting income for herself, but she didn’t.
She stuck around. Because that’s what family does.
“Get the fuck out of our house!” I hear her voice as I reach out for the kitchen door, and my heart leaps into my throat.
This again?
Have they hurt my baby? Please tell me they haven’t hurt her…
“You borrowed five fucking grand, bitch! You haven’t even paid me the interest. You think we’re going to just forget about that because you’re losing your home? No fucking way.”
“We don’t have any money, asshole! Why can’t you get that through your thick fucking skull?”
“And we’ve told you, there are other ways to pay off your debt. Sweet little thing like you, you’ll be clear inside of a week.”
“I’m not a prostitute.”
I hear the crunch of a fist connecting with bone, and fury washes over me.
As I put my shoulder to the swollen old door, I hear another punch thrown and his growl.
“You’re whatever we say you are. You think being a whore is so bad?
I can make things much worse. I can make that baby stop fucking screaming, for a start—”
The door flies open, and I don’t waste a second. Brigid is crying, hanging onto the kitchen table for support as she clutches her face, blood trickling from her lower lip. She tries to tell me to stay back, but there’s no way that’s happening.
As I move forward, I notice Oscar aiming himself blindly at the intruder’s legs, reaching him before I do and latching on.
“You touch my baby, you fucking cock sucking coward, I’ll kill you.” I scream as I launch myself at the stranger, grabbing my phone from my pocket as the first solid weapon that comes to hand.
The thug screeches hysterically as I use it to club him right across the face.
He throws a punch that connects with my arm, but he’s trying harder to avoid Oscar’s attack, dancing around as he tries to free himself from those powerful jaws. He might only have a few teeth, but Oscar knows how to use them.
“Get this fucking mutt away from me or I’ll shoot him!” He draws a gun, but I knock his hand away, and get pistol-whipped across the shoulder for my trouble, my phone skittering across the tabletop right under his nose. “I’m fucking warning you!”
Then he glances at my phone, and it’s like a light goes on in his eyes.
“Oh, you have bigger problems now, sweetheart. Much bigger problems.”
“Get out of our house!” I scream, pushing him toward the kitchen door. “Out! Go tell your stupid boss we’ll get him his money, but my sister is not going to come work for him.”
Oscar growls but I pull him back as the thug retreats.
“This ain’t fucking over, bitch. I’m going to be back, and next time I won’t be alone—”
He falls silent as Oscar lets out a low bark, then turns and flees for the door. And I go straight to Brigid.
“We shouldn’t have borrowed that money,” she cries. “This is my fault. You and Ruth should go. Get away from here. I—”
“This isn’t your fault, Brigid,” I tell her, grabbing a bag of peas from the freezer and pressing it against her face.
“We needed the money. Me, you and Ruth. You did what you thought was best. If this is anyone’s fault, it’s Dad’s.
And Greg’s. We had forty grand before they decided to lose it all.
And did they stick around to help pick up the pieces? ”
She shakes her head, tears trailing down her cheeks.
I kiss her forehead and stand, giving Oscar a fuss behind his ears. “We need to leave. The house foreclosure is in two days, I say we stay until then, enjoy sleeping in a bed while we can, then get in the car and go.”
“Where?”
“Away from here. I don’t know. I don’t care. I’ve got waitressing experience now, I can get a job somewhere and take care of us. But we can’t stay here. That guy will be back and he will want his money. Zeneli won’t let this drop.”
“Did you notice how he changed when he saw your phone?”
I nod, remembering the look he gave. I cross the kitchen and grab the smashed phone from the table where it fell, studying it. There’s nothing there, no messages, no alerts. Just that stupid selfie of me and Dietrich that I haven’t had the heart to delete.
Because despite what I might say, a part of me still loves him. Stupid, I know, after all he’s put me through. If I had any sense, I should be wishing I never met him. My life before was bad, but since Dietrich it’s only gotten worse.
The only light in that darkness is Ruth. And Brigid. We promised to make our own family different from how we grew up, but we’re sort of sucking at it right now.
But still. I loved him. I did, and I can’t change that. Will I ever be able to delete that one and only photograph I have of the father of my child?
I don’t know.
But my time here in Vegas has come to an end.