Chapter Eleven #2
She turned onto her street and pulled into the driveway. Travis had left the porch light on, but the inside lights were off, which meant he was in bed. Thank God. She wasn’t up to talking to her brother tonight.
The blood in her veins churned like water, and her stomach quivered. She sat in the driveway, tilted her head back on the headrest, squeezed her eyes shut, and shivered. She wasn’t at all sure she was strong enough to fight her attraction to Hank Haverill.
And that scared the stuffing out of her.
Hank entered his hotel room feeling good, but it didn’t take long for his mood to sour. It came in the form of a phone call from dear old dad. The old man possessed a sixth sense capable of zeroing in on Hank’s happiness and then blasting the emotion to smithereens.
“Hank, it’s your father. Sorry to call so late, but I have something important to talk to you about.”
“Does it begin with an M and end with a Y?” Hank put his phone on speaker and closed the blinds on the view of the city and twinkling lights outside.
You never knew when a crazed photographer or fan would decide to climb the building just so they could peer inside his window and snap a few pictures.
He did not relish the thought of being caught in his boxers.
“No, it begins with a C.”
“Coins?” He set the phone on the bed and sank down next to it, eyeing the clean lines of the plush ivory comforter.
“You always did have an odd sense of humor.”
“How would you know? You weren’t around for the majority of my childhood.”
“Are we back to that old song again? How many times have I explained that I visited when I could? I had a lot going on back then.”
Hank’s blood sizzled like water on a hot pan. Sweat dotted his forehead. He pulled his shirt over his head and shivered as the cool air from the air-conditioning hit his skin. He removed one shoe, then the other and stretched his legs across the bed. “I didn’t need a visitor. I needed a dad.”
“You have a dad.”
“Now who’s joking? All right, I’ll play along. What do you want . . . Dad?” Hank slipped off his shorts until he was sitting in his boxers.
“Connor mentioned you’re in Cleveland this weekend, investing in some kind of fitness center. What’s that about?”
“Yeah, my advisors and staff seem to think it’s a good investment. I’m not sure I’ll do it, though. There are four mom-and-pop businesses in the building. If I open a center, I’ll force them to move, which would probably make them close. I’m going to be here a while longer, while I figure it out.”
“It’s not your job to keep a bunch of little mom-and-pop stores alive, is it?”
“Well, no, but—”
“This could be real promising for your brother.”
“Opening the center?”
“Yeah. It could be a great career opportunity. You know, I’m real proud of how he’s pursuing his education. He’s got street smarts, but he’s always struggled in school. His grades aren’t real good. He’ll probably have a tough time landing a job when he graduates.”
“What Connor’s lacking is stability. It’s hard to get good grades when your dad’s never around and can’t keep a job and take care of his family. His grades will get better now he doesn’t need to worry about funding his education.”
“Well, he’d never ask you, but I hope you’ll consider him as a possible manager after he graduates, when you open the center.”
Hank rubbed a hand back and forth across his head to ease the ache behind his sinuses. “Sure, if I open a fitness center, Connor’s welcome to be a part of it.” That would have to satisfy his father.
“I’m not surprised you’re staying on in Cleveland. You always did like that city. Remember the old house your mom’s folks used to live in?”
“You mean the one you sold out from under me?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his tone. “Of course I remember. All of my favorite childhood memories were spent in that house. I used to stay a month every summer.”
“Now don’t get all mad at me. I thought I was doing you a favor at the time. Never understood what you and your mother loved so much about the old place. Just a bunch of crumbling bricks if you ask me. We didn’t get much for it when it sold.”
Hank rubbed his burning eye sockets and flopped back on the bed. The house was a sore spot. It had been a legacy from his mother’s family. It never should have been sold, but somehow his dad had managed it while Hank was half out of his mind with grief.
He put his hands behind his head and studied the curves in the ceiling so he wouldn’t lose his temper. A chandelier hung in the middle of an oval medallion above his bed. “Is that all? ’Cause I’m beat. It’s been a long day.”
“Son, I wish you’d give me a chance. I’m proud of you, ya know.
You’ve done well for yourself. You shouldn’t get mad because I’m asking you to send a few opportunities your brother’s way.
Family first and all that. Speaking of which, I hesitate to ask but .
. . I could use a little loan. Just enough to cover the rent and truck payment for the next couple of months. I promise this will be the last time.”
“What did you do with the money I gave you six months ago?”
“It’s gone.”
Gone? “That was ten thousand dollars. What did you do with it? You were supposed to use the money to get settled.” He couldn’t afford to keep giving money away. Especially now that his series was canceled.
“I did. But we had debts to pay—car loans, your sister’s braces. And then . . .”
His father’s voice trailed off. Hank leaned closer to the phone. “I can’t hear you.”
“I lost my job.”
Hank stifled a groan. “What was it this time? Fight with a coworker? Showing up late?”
“Guess they thought I called off one too many times.”
“I’m not always the most punctual, but even I know you need to show up for work and behave to hold down a job.”
“I was sick. Bad case of bronchitis. I’ve been having trouble keeping up. I can’t put your sisters and stepmom through moving again. We just got settled in this apartment in Nashville. It’s expensive. Plus, we have to pay utilities. We barely have any money left over for food each month.”
A muscle twitched in Hank’s jaw. So they had landed in Nashville. “Will five thousand cover it?”
“Yes, yes it will . . . well . . . thanks, son . . . it’s getting late, so . . .”
“Goodbye.” Hank did not wait for a reply but ended the call. He got up in one fluid movement and prowled the room until he ended up in the bathroom, where he eyed his reflection with distaste. His eyes looked like they could burn a hole through the mirror.
Why had he answered his father’s call? He had known as soon as he’d seen the number that the old man wanted money.
He always did. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise.
Yet, somehow, he always took the call, hoping his father wanted something more.
Something like a real relationship. Something like the warm affection he’d glimpsed in Bethany’s eyes when she’d talked about her family over lunch.
Would he ever know what it felt like to be loved for something other than his money?