All I Ever Wanted

Chapter 1

Chapter One

“Hannah?” I hear my name being called through a sleepy haze.

“Hannah, baby, wake up. Your phone is blowing up,” Logan mumbles, his voice gravelly from sleep.

Groaning, I snuggle deeper into his warm chest. Sunday afternoon is for napping, and I have no desire to check my notifications.

After a busy week of lectures and assignments, we deserve this quiet time alone together.

Why did my past self forget to silence her phone?

“Turn it off,” I whine, “I just want to sleep.” We are pressed tight together, half my body draped over his, on the sectional couch in my tiny apartment.

It is way too big for my small living room but it’s ridiculously comfortable.

A heavy fleece blanket is draped over us, and I can hear Hotchner from Criminal Minds talking quietly in the background.

This is pure bliss and it’s currently being disrupted by the chime of my phone.

Student housing was fun for a while; a bunch of teenagers living free and in the wild for the first time with next to no supervision. Spending their student loans on questionable things and eating whatever they want, whenever they want.

But the thrill of it died quickly. By the end of my first year, I knew I needed a space of my own if I was going to pull more than a C average. Somewhere I could actually focus on studying and get enough sleep. Thankfully, my parents agreed.

Technically, I live alone but most of Logan’s things are here, and he plans to officially move in at the end of the semester. It just makes sense for both of us. Though our romantic relationship is relatively new, we have been best friends since we were in second grade.

The notifications continue to chime annoyingly. I have a distinct tone for each of my parents, so I know it’s not either of them, but I should probably check and see what’s going on.

“Ugh. Can you look and see who it is?” I ask, burying my face further into his soft hoodie, inhaling the fresh scent of his fabric softener combined with spicy body wash.

I feel him reach across my body to grab my phone off the coffee table, knocking his sketch pad and pencils onto the floor in the process.

He slowly pulls himself up into a sitting position, adjusting me as he goes to straddle his lap.

“Who is it?” I ask, pushing my blonde loose curls from my face. When Logan doesn’t respond right away, I look up at his puzzled expression.

“This is weird, you have been tagged several times in the Emerley News Facebook group.” He looks adorable with his nose scrunched up and light brown hair disheveled from sleep.

“That sounds fake. Emerley isn’t big enough to have their own Facebook group.

” I roll my eyes dramatically before resting my cheek on his solid chest again.

But of course, they do. The small town we grew up in has 4000 year-round residents – give or take a few – and two stoplights.

Most of the activity in the group consists of bored middle-aged women posting about current events and yard sales.

Men share traffic reports and weather updates.

You know, only the most important things in a small town.

But it has also become a go-to forum for neighbours to air their grievances sometimes passive-aggressively and sometimes outright. Because that’s very adult of them.

“There are a lot, Hannah. You should check and see what’s going on.” He tries to hand me my phone.

“I’m not even active in the group. I’m sure someone has just tagged everyone and I’m getting notified with all the responses. You can check if you want, I’m quite happy to sit right here.” I smirk as I adjust myself on his lap and nibble on his neck.

“Behave.” He laughs, playfully smacking my ass.

I feel his body tense under me as he unlocks my phone and opens the app.

“What is it? Did Mrs. Wilson’s cat go missing again?

” I gasp dramatically sitting back, holding a hand to my chest because that has really happened.

The elderly woman was in a total panic last fall, and half the neighbourhood was on high alert.

She was eventually found sleeping under her own porch. The cat, not Mrs. Wilson.

He scowls as he silently scrolls through the notifications on my phone. “What’s going on?” When I reach for it, he holds it out of my grasp. “Logan, give me my phone.” I swat at him playfully.

“Umm, there’s some pictures. You don’t need to see them.” He shuts the app quickly before I can peek.

“I’ve been tagged so someone must want me to see them.” I reach again, and this time, Logan reluctantly hands me the phone. Opening the app, I tap on my notifications.

Emerley News, February 1

Posted by user whiterook16, 2:15 p.m.

Displayed there for everyone in the group to see are a few black-and-white photos of my father, Richard Knight, his hand resting intimately on the lower back of a light-haired woman.

They are standing a little closer than what most would consider appropriate, and it looks like he is whispering in her ear.

Her features have been altered so you can’t make out her identity, and I’m unfamiliar with the location.

Okay, I’ll admit that it’s very weird but not newsworthy until I read the caption.

“So much for family values, eh, Dick? This definitely isn’t your wife. I wonder how Hannah will feel about this?”

I audibly gasp. “What the hell? Who is whiterook16 and why did they tag me in this shit?” I look at Logan for the answers. My dad is one of the best men I know and for someone to insinuate otherwise is wild to me. He would never betray my mom like that; he loves her.

“No idea,” he shakes his head in disbelief, staring down at my phone.

Within minutes of posting, the comments start rolling in and guessing who my father, a successful realtor, is cozying up to. And as the caption reads, it’s definitely not my mother.

“For fuck’s sake.” Glancing at Logan, I see he has his phone out as well.

“What is it now?” I quickly scroll to see what he’s looking at.

“Brian Marshal just made his own post in the group asking if anyone knows who the woman is. What the fuck is wrong with him?” he asks, scowling as he continues to read the comments.

“Of course he did. He just wants to stir the pot because he can’t stand Dad. This probably made his day.” Brian went to school with my parents and rumor has it he had a crush on my mom, and she chose my dad instead. It was like 25 years ago; he needs to get over it already.

“He’s so miserable and boring he needs to gossip about other people to feel anything,” I say as I continue to read the comments on the original post.

“Look, there’s another post by whiterook16.

” Logan shows me his phone. Yep, at 2:30 p.m. more photos of my father hugging the same woman have been shared.

Arms circling her waist, her back is to the camera as my dad looks down at her with adoring eyes and a smile.

He looks so happy. They are standing beside his car, but I can’t tell where the picture was taken.

I slowly climb off Logan’s lap and move onto the cushion beside him, blanket forgotten on the floor where it lands, and he instantly clasps my left hand in his.

What the actual fuck? A couple of random photos of my father being overly friendly is one thing that could be easily explained away.

Maybe? This second batch of pictures, not so much.

Nausea is beginning to settle in my stomach, and my head begins to ache.

“Everyone thinks you are a devoted family man. Too bad this isn’t your wife, Dick. I wonder how Hannah will feel knowing her daddy isn’t as perfect as she thinks he is?”

Nobody calls him Dick, so this was obviously a stupid play on his name.

More than thirty people comment on the post. Some defend my father, outraged at the poster. Others harshly criticize him, and those comments are hard to read. Whiterook16 stays silent, quietly liking each comment.

“I don’t understand why anyone would take the pictures let alone post them. It’s creepy, right?” I ask Logan as I continue to read the comment section.

“It’s insane. Like, stalker-level insane,” he agrees.

At 2:45 p.m. two more pictures are posted of my father clearly kissing the same woman.

Hands in her hair, gripping her head. The woman has been further pixelated to conceal her identity, but my father is in plain sight.

Somebody took the time to pixelate the side of her face, but you can tell it was the same woman from the earlier posts.

Who is she? A client? This time I know exactly where the photo was taken.

At my family’s cabin on Crystal Lake, I would know that view anywhere.

I can’t believe my dad would bring another woman into our home.

“Isn’t this cozy?

Maybe your perfect family isn’t so perfect after all.”

Fifty comments. I know because I count and read each one.

Brian’s thread is still going strong. Words like disappointing, hypocrite, outraged, and arrogant are common themes.

There are several comments pitying my mom and me.

Abandoning his own phone face down on the table, Logan wraps a protective arm around my body.

“Are you sure you want to see this? You don’t have to,” he asks in a soothing tone. His voice contradicts the anger I feel radiating from his body.

“I need to know. I can’t pretend this isn’t happening, while the entire town has a front row seat,” I whisper, squeezing his thigh. Thankfully he’s here with me, I would be completely losing my shit if I was alone right now. Even angry Logan is a calming presence to me.

I gasp when the final grainy photo is shared.

There he is, my father, leaning back on a leather couch in his office with the woman straddling his lap, skirt bunched up around her waist. Her feet are bare.

Shoes forgotten, fallen to the floor. There is no denying what they are doing.

It’s an image that will be seared into my brain for the rest of my life, I’m certain.

My body is vibrating with anxiety, and I feel like I am going to throw up any second. My eyes are burning from unshed tears as I read the text under the photo.

“Checkmate. You’re finished.

Rook takes Knight.”

That’s it. In exactly one hour my world flipped upside down. This doesn’t feel real, but I have seen the evidence.

Jumping from the couch, almost tripping over the blanket on the floor, I rush from the room into the bathroom where I violently empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet.

Logan is right behind me, pulling my hair away from my face, rubbing his hand in circles on my back.

Standing on shaky legs, I make my way to the sink, rinse my mouth with cold water and look at Logan.

“How could he? How could he do this to Mom?”

The one thing I have always been confident about is how much my parents love each other. He has always been so wonderful to her. I don’t know what to do, she is going to be absolutely devastated. I need to talk to her right away, but what do I say?

“I don’t know,” he says shaking his head in disbelief. “What can I do? What do you need?” His chocolate brown eyes search mine. Frozen, I stare at him blankly as he reaches for my hand, leads me back to the couch and pulls me down next to him.

Picking up my phone, I refresh the page, and my eyes widen in disbelief. “Oh my god, the posts are gone. All of them!” I shriek, thrusting it in his face.

“Do you think a moderator removed them? Is Brian’s post still there?” Logan looks back and forth between my eyes and the phone clutched in my hand.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I repeat for at least the tenth time. Whether removed by the poster or a moderator I’m not sure, but evidence of my father’s complete betrayal is now gone. “Of course, Brian’s post is still up. We couldn’t be that lucky.”

Bending forward, I rest my elbows on my knees.

The phone startles me when it begins to ring.

Glancing at the display, I groan when I see it’s my father calling.

I’m not ready to speak with him, I need to collect myself and check on Mom first. As quickly as I can dismiss it, he calls back.

This repeats three more times before Logan gently takes the phone from my hand just as I am about to throw it across the room.

“Let me answer it, okay? He will just keep calling, and this way I can get you some answers, yeah?” Nodding, I sit back on the couch, pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. Logan rests his hand on my foot and gives it a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

“Hello,” he answers and switches it to speaker phone. Gone is the soft voice he uses with me. Instead, he sounds harsh and angry.

“Logan, is Hannah with you?” I hear my father’s pained voice over the line. It sounds like he is in his car.

“Yeah, she is.” Logan raises his eyebrows, silently asking me what he should do. I shake my head vigorously in reply. “She doesn’t want to talk to you, sir.”

“So, she has seen the posts then?” My father sighs heavily. “I’m so sorry this is happening, Logan.”

Seriously, why the fuck is he apologizing to Logan? He should be on his knees begging my mother for forgiveness right now.

“We have,” he responds curtly, adjusting his position so he can pull me close.

“I’m sorry to ask you this, son, but can you please bring her home?

I’m sure she has questions, and I want to answer all of them, but not over the phone and not by text.

I’m on my way back home now. Hannah, honey, I know you are listening.

I know you don’t want to, but will you please come home so we can talk?

” I nod at Logan, agreeing silently to my father’s request. I need to go.

I need answers, and I need to see my mother as soon as possible. This is so fucking bad.

“We will leave soon,” Logan confirms.

“Thank you. Drive safe – it’s starting to snow here.

” I look out the window and notice that the snow has started falling here as well since we fell asleep.

He clears his throat, emotion thick in his voice, and he continues, “I love you, honey. It’s going to be okay, I promise,” he says before the call disconnects.

How? How does he possibly think any of this is okay? My mom doesn’t spend much time on social media, but there is no way this information hasn’t reached her yet. I just pray she didn’t see the pictures. Her mental health isn’t fabulous, and this is going to be absolutely devastating to her.