Chapter 37
The air is pulled from my lungs so quickly that tiny black spots prick at my vision. The only things I can sense are the echo of my heartbeat in my chest and the taste of bile in the back of my throat.
“I am so sorry,” Sebastian says somewhere in front of me. “I didn’t think he would ever try something like this. I just wanted to give you a heads up, so you weren’t blindsided.”
I want to tell him this is still very much a blind-side.
That no matter how many nights I have sat awake fearing this exact moment, it still comes as a surprise.
Before I can tell him that, a squeal cuts through the air.
I’m swimming in deep water and my feet and arms can’t seem to keep me above the surface long enough to breathe.
The three come up stairs, Winnie hugs Sebastian, and then launches herself into my arms and all I can do is pull her deeper into my chest and meet Sebastian’s sorry expression over her shoulder.
How is this even possible? Why would Ethan even bother after all this time? All these years he never showed an ounce of interest in being a husband or a father. Why now, when he had the entire divorce to fight my request for full custody.
“Han.” Paul nudges me. “Are you okay? Winnie is asking you something.”
I shake my head and pull back to meet Winnie’s expectant gaze. “Yes, sorry. What is it bug?”
“Where’s Tan? I have a present for him.”
I look down at her hands and she’s holding a hat. A Chicago Cubs baseball hat. “It’s like my shirt. The one he packed in my bag at the hosi-bull.”
“I—he’s at work. He might stop by later and you can give it to him,” I assure her. “He will love it.”
“Okay. I will put it next to Fish-Tanner until I give it to real-Tanner.” She climbs off my lap.
“Who’s Tanner?” Sebastian asks causing Winnie to scoff.
“Mom’s boyfriend. Duh.” She spins to go back inside. Mom and Paul must sense something, and they follow in after her.
My eyes flutter closed as I try to suck air back into my lungs.
What have I done? How did I fall into the exact situation I have been warning everyone of all along?
With his family’s influence, surely, they could grant him visitation.
Right? What if he came back to the court and showed that I was gallivanting around Michigan with some younger man and introducing Winnie basically on day one?
Could he petition for actual custody? Could he get visitation every month? Every weekend? Would he?
I have spent years fearing this would be the outcome.
When the baby didn’t fix the problems we had, I could have left.
I knew that, but the fear of him growing a pair of balls and actually fighting for custody was always a possibility and how could I have ever consider splitting my daughter’s time with him?
For years, I tolerated him and the shit he put me through because at least I had her.
I didn’t have to exchange her like damaged goods in a gas station parking lot every other weekend.
I didn’t have to explain why Mommy can’t be with her on Christmas.
He could take everything else from me, but he couldn’t take her. She was, and is, all I have.
He wasn’t going to fight me. Only last fall did it occur to me that he didn’t want custody.
I saw the way Rhett’s family loved each other.
The way their family loved the Auclairs, and I knew Ethan didn’t have that in him.
He wouldn’t be capable of it. Foolishly, I started to believe that I was safe, that things had changed, that I had changed.
I stand, and I don’t know where I’m going, but Seb stands too, looking at me so with much pity, I might drown in it. I might drown in this feeling bubbling in my veins.
“I’m so sorry.” He steps forward and wraps his arms around my shoulder like I imagine a brother would.
“This isn’t how it was supposed to go.”
“I’ll be your lawyer,” he says into the top of my head. “He will only get what you’re willing to give him.”
“Hey,” Paul says, popping his head out the back door. “Winnie is asking about dinner, I was thinking we could head to the diner?”
I nod absently and follow him and Sebastian inside.
“Fish-Tanner looks funny,” Winnie calls from the kitchen. “His tail is a different shape.”
“Maybe he’s just been working out since you’ve been gone,” Paul says.
I only make it a few steps into my room before I am rushing to the bathroom. My white knuckled grip on the porcelain sink is the only thing keeping me up as tears blur my vision. The dread settles in the place that had butterflies just hours ago.
I can’t stay. Not yet at least. I can’t stay until I know Ethan is done fighting me.
I pull my phone from my pocket and call Dollie.
But she doesn’t answer, so I leave a rambling voicemail, telling her that something came up and that I won’t be staying this fall after all.
Then I turn on the shower to mask my crying.
How unfair. How unfair that Ethan got to cheat on me and yet I’m the one who has to live on eggshells.
That I have to live in fear that he could swoop in at any moment and take the one thing I have found purpose in.
All the while he spent years sneaking around with Maggie, avoiding the one thing I treasure more than anything.
Then I hear a little voice call through the door. Asking if I’m okay.
“Yeah baby,” I tell her. “Go show Uncle Seb your fish, okay?”
“Can I come in?” She knocks her little fist against the door.
“No bug, go on. I just have a stuffy nose.”
Her feet pad away, and I crash onto the closed toilet and hug myself. I had been wrong about it being complicated. It was never complicated. Tanner had been right. It was simple. It was really fucking clear and simple that I was never going to live my own life.
“Han,” Paul calls through the door.
“I’m fine,” I spit out, but when he cracks the door open, I find myself glad that I didn’t lock it.
“No, you aren’t.” He comes over to me, rips a piece of toilet paper and hands it to me. He shuts off the shower and sits on the edge of the bath in front of me. “You were glowing two days ago. Now you look like you just saw a ghost. What’s going on?”
“Ethan wants visitation rights.” I pull my shoulders even further in. “Sebastian said he may even want actual custody and might try and take me back to court. He can’t do that. Can he? How can he do that?”
“I don’t know,” Paul whispers.
“I was going to stay here,” I choke out, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes.
“Here?”
“I was going to stay and give things with Tanner a real chance and be with Lauren, but—”
“You still can.” He leans over and pulls my hands away from my face. “This doesn’t have to mean you need to pack up and run home.”
“Of course it does.” My voice is harsher than I mean for it to be. Paul doesn’t deserve harsh words, but I can’t seem to get control of my mouth. Or my mind. “I was always going to have to go back. To you and Mom and to Ethan. I am never going to be rid of him. Not truly.”
“If you need me to take him out.” Paul raises his eyebrows, and a little laugh escapes me.
“I just—” I take in an uneven breath. “I just wish I could actually move on.”
“You will. One day,” he says and pats my knee. “I’m going to walk everyone down to the diner. Join us if you want. Or if you need to pull a Lauren and clean until your knuckles bleed, then do it. But please, don’t let Ethan’s threats ruin your plans. Okay?”
I nod, even though I don’t really mean it. I just want to go find Tanner. I want to bury myself in his arms and tell him everything and have him, in turn, tell me everything is going to be fine. Even if it’s a lie. Because I need to tell him that I’m leaving. And I need him to talk me out of it.
Hannah: Hey, are you still coming over after work? I need to talk to you.
Tanner: can’t tonight, maybe tomorrow.
I stare at my phone and triple check that I texted the right person. Because what the fuck?
I dial his number.
No answer.
Hannah: We don’t have to talk about Dollie. I have something else going on that I need to tell you.
Tanner: Hannah, i’m sorry. i can’t.
The words read severely more permanent that just tonight and something in my gut feels it too. Was the news about Dollie too much? Was being away from me sobering him up?
No. This isn’t right. This isn’t how this is supposed to go. He should be talking sense into me. Telling me to stay.
I throw on my shoes, run down the steps and over to the auto shop where I spot Taylor inside, wiping the sweat from his temple with a shop rag.
“Hey Hannah.” He looks up, surprised to see me. “What’s up?”
“Where’s Tanner?”
He cocks his head to the side. “He took the night off. He came in and said he had dinner plans with you, actually.”
My stomach churns. He didn’t come by. What was he really doing? Why is he icing me out all of a sudden?
I pull my phone out. I call again and this time he answers.
“You aren’t at the shop. Tell me you’re okay.”
He sighs. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m at home feeding the sheep. I will call you tomorrow.”
His words lack their usual warmth and instead are replaced by distance and a cool chill.
“If I did something—”
“Hannah,” he snaps and the tears well up in my eyes already blurring the parking spot where his truck isn’t parked. “Can we please talk tomorrow? It’s been a kind of a big day, and I really can’t talk about it.”
“Yet, right? You don’t want to talk about it yet.”
I hear him sniffle. Even though I can tell he has pulled the phone away, I hear the thickness in his voice and the wavering of his chin.
“Goodnight Han.”
“I love you,” I tell the now ended call.
Next thing I know, I am setting up Winnie’s bed for Sebastian to stay the night, telling him that I am glad he told me, telling my parents goodnight, floating through the motions of getting Winnie bathed and to bed on the couch like she insists. Until finally, I am crawling into my own bed.
Only moments pass before I hear the door creak open and the little whisper asking if she can sleep with me.
“Since when do you ask?” I tease and pull her in.
“I heard you crying and I didn’t know if you wanted me or not.”
“Oh bug.” I kiss her head, and she snuggles in closer. “I always want you.”
“Do you want to say why you’re crying?”
“Not right now.”
She pets my arm that’s wrapped around her. “I like being sad on my own too.”
I squeeze her and all I can think is that six months ago I would have thought that was true of me too. Hiding away to cry in locked rooms, and in my car. Now it feels wrong not telling Tanner about the boring parts of my day. Or crying to him about the worst parts.