Chapter 5 - Echo #2
"Job went bad. Client wanted me to find dirt on his wife so he could avoid paying alimony. I found dirt on him instead. He was abusing her, and I gave her the evidence. Got fired. Word got around that I couldn't be trusted to do what I was paid for."
"Good," Hannah says fiercely.
Yeah. I've never regretted that choice.
"Couldn't get work after that. Ended up drifting. Hit Millhaven three years ago because I heard there might be work. Met Phoenix in a bar. We got to talking. He told me about the club he was building and asked if I was interested."
"Just like that?"
"Not quite. I told him I'd think about it and came back the next night. And the night after that. Spent two weeks watching him and the brothers. Trying to figure out if this was legit or if it was another situation I'd have to walk away from."
Hannah sets down her fork. "And?"
"And I realized they were exactly what they said they were. Good men trying to build something that mattered. Protecting people who couldn't protect themselves. Being the family they never had."
"Like us," she says softly.
"Like us. Three years ago, and I’ve been here ever since."
"And the war with the Vipers? What was that about?"
I tell her. All of it. How the Vipers used to be honorable before Demon took over. How they corrupted into trafficking and drugs and violence. How Phoenix's parents were killed. How we rescued six women from a warehouse. How they kept coming after our families.
"So, you attacked them," Hannah says. "Burned down their clubhouse."
"We ended it. They're not a threat anymore."
She looks at me for a long moment. "Do you regret it? Any of it?"
"No."
"Not even the violence?"
"Especially not the violence. They hurt people who couldn't fight back. They deserved everything they got."
Hannah nods slowly. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay. I understand now. This isn't just some gang. It's a family. And you protect family."
"Always."
"Good." She picks up her fork again. "Because Theo's family now too. Which means if anyone comes after him—"
"They'll have to go through me first," I finish. "And the eight other men who just claimed him as a nephew."
Her eyes go shiny again. She blinks rapidly and shoves more pancakes in her mouth to avoid dealing with emotions. Claire comes by to refill our coffee. I nod my thanks, and when she leaves, I lean forward slightly, elbows on the table.
"My turn," I say. "What happened after you left Sacred Heart?"
Hannah wraps both hands around her fresh coffee cup. Stares into it like she's reading tea leaves.
"I aged out at eighteen like you did. Got the same duffel bag and fifty dollars. Difference was they had a placement for me, a group home for women transitioning out of the system. Shared apartment with three other girls, all of us trying to figure out how to adult when nobody ever taught us how."
"How long did that last?"
"Six months. Then I had to find my own place. Got a studio apartment in a terrible neighborhood. I worked two jobs, waitressing during the day, cleaning offices at night. Barely made rent most months."
I watch her face. See the exhaustion that's been building for years, not just months.
"I did that for five years," she continues. "Just surviving. No friends really. The girls from the group home all moved on or moved away. I dated a few guys but nothing serious. Nobody I trusted enough to let in."
"What changed?"
"I got tired of barely surviving. Went to community college at night. Got my Associate's degree in early childhood education. I thought maybe I could work with kids. Be the kind of person I needed when I was young."
"Did you?"
"For a while. Got a job at a daycare. Loved the kids. Hated the pay. Still had to work a second job to make ends meet. Then the daycare closed. The owner retired and nobody wanted to buy it. I was back to waitressing and cleaning offices."
She takes a long drink of coffee. Her hands are steadier now. Telling the story seems to be calming her down somehow.
"That's when I thought about you," she says. "I was alone and tired. And I remembered this boy from Sacred Heart who understood what it was like to be completely alone in the world. Wondered if he was still alive. Still surviving."
"You found me through mutual connections."
"Yeah. Some girl from Sacred Heart who knew someone who knew someone. She mentioned your name. Said you were in Millhaven. I almost didn't reach out."
"Why did you?"
She meets my eyes. "Because I was lonely. And I thought maybe you were too. And maybe two lonely people who understood each other could be less lonely together."
The honesty in her voice hits me hard. That's exactly what it was. Two people from the same broken place trying to be less alone.
"We talked for weeks before we even met in person," I say, remembering.
"Two months. Every night. I'd get home from work, and we'd talk until two in the morning. About everything. About nothing. About what it was like to grow up the way we did."
"You drove three hours to meet me."
"Well, you did offer to come to me, and I said no. I wanted to see where you ended up. What you built for yourself."
I remember that weekend. How nervous I was. How she showed up looking exactly like I remembered but older, more tired, more guarded. How we spent two days just talking. Walking around Millhaven. Sitting in coffee shops. Getting to know the adults we'd become.
"It wasn't supposed to be romantic," Hannah says. "At least that's what I told myself."
"Me too."
"But it was. Almost immediately."
"Yeah."
She's quiet for a moment. "I've never felt that way about anyone. Before or since. Like I could actually let my guard down. Like maybe it was safe to want something."
"Why did you leave?" I ask. The question I've been avoiding. "You said you needed to figure some things out. What did you need to figure out?"
She looks down at her plate. "I was falling in love with you.
Real love. Not the casual thing we were pretending it was.
And that terrified me. I didn't know how to do that," she continues.
"How to love someone. How to trust that you wouldn't leave.
Everyone always leaves. Everyone always has.
So, I left first. Before you could hurt me. "
"I wouldn't have hurt you."
"I think I know that now. I didn't know it then.
" She looks up, eyes bright with unshed tears.
"And then I found out I was pregnant and I was so scared.
Because if I told you, and you stayed, I'd have to trust that you'd keep staying.
And if I told you and you left anyway, it would break me. So, I decided to handle it alone."
"Until you ran out of options."
"Until I ran out of options," she agrees.
"And even then, driving here, I almost turned around a dozen times.
Almost convinced myself I could figure it out some other way.
But Theo's surgery date was set, and I was out of time and you were the only person I could think of who might actually help without making me feel like I owed something I couldn't pay back. "
Claire appears with the coffee pot again. We both wave her off. The booth feels like its own private world right now.
"I would have helped," I say. "Even if Theo wasn't mine. Even if you'd just called as an old friend asking for help. I would have helped."
"I believe you." She wipes at her eyes quickly. "Which is terrifying in its own way. Because now I have to figure out what to do with that."
"What do you want to do with it?"
"I want to stay. At the clubhouse. With you and the club and all these people who welcomed me like I belonged there. I want Theo to have the surgery and get better. And I want to figure out what we are to each other without the panic and fear driving every decision."
"That sounds good to me."
"But I'm still scared," she admits. "Still waiting for something to go wrong. Still don't totally believe this is real."
"It's real," I tell her. "All of it. The club. The help. Me. We're all real."
She nods. Takes a shaky breath. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay. I'll try to believe that. Try to trust this. Try to let people help instead of doing everything alone."
"Good."
We sit there for another moment, just looking at each other across the table. Then Hannah glances at her phone and her eyes go wide.
"We've been here almost an hour and a half. Theo's probably awake by now. He's going to be hungry."
"Then we should get back."
I pay the check despite her protest. Lead her back outside into the late morning sun, and she climbs onto the bike behind me without hesitation this time. Wraps her arms around my waist and leans against my back.
Trusting me to get her home.
Home.
To the clubhouse where our son is waiting.
To the family we're building.
To whatever comes next.
I pull out of Mac's parking lot and head back toward everything that matters.