Pulled Back Again Read online

  I was able to hold him off before Janelle was born because I told him I didn’t want to walk down the aisle pregnant. It’s not that I don’t want to marry him, because I do. I adore him

  I guess it’s just a stupid romantically challenged part of me wants to wait until Janelle is old enough to not only share, but remember the event with us. I haven’t told Tobias that though; I doubt he’d want to wait that long. Now that little Nellie is a year old, I’m sure he’ll start asking me to marry him even more frequently, if that’s even possible.

  My life couldn’t be more perfect, which secretly worries me. It seems like when people are the happiest, things start to slide downhill... at least that’s how it always happens in books and movies.

  I snuggle down and give Janelle another kiss on her head as Tobias walks back into the room. Something about his stance is off. His shoulders are tense and eyes are pinched together in worry. Worst of all, though, is the color of his face. It has practically drained out of him. He looks as though he’s going to be sick.

  “What's wrong?” I ask, instinctively latching on tighter to Janelle. She moves a bit under my protective grasp before she sticks her thumb in her mouth and begins sucking, drifting back quickly into her cake-induced coma.

  Tobias's melted-chocolate eyes glaze over with what looks like fear. His breath seems labored and his fingers start to fidget against his thighs as he walks across the living room.

  “Ma! Don’t run away from me! We need to talk about this!” he shouts up the stairs.

  “She’s not there. She just left to check the mail.” Tobias’s eyebrows pinch together in anger. “You're scaring me, Tobias. What is it?”

  He looks from me to Janelle, then back at me again. “He knows.”

  My breath deflates instantly, like I’ve been punched square in the gut. I don't need him to clarify those two words at all. The look on his face explains his meaning perfectly: Hawk knows Janelle is his daughter.

  My pulse quickens as I try to calculate what this news actually means. For Tobias, it means everything. Hawk learning about Janelle is the one thing he’s been dreading would happen since he found out I was pregnant. Hawk didn’t know that he got me pregnant that night. I didn’t tell him. It’s horrible of me, but I didn’t want him to be Janelle’s father. Telling him might take that away. What if he wanted custody? I couldn’t lose my daughter. So Tobias and I agreed not to tell him. Ever.

  But now... now he must have put it together. From the look on his face, I can tell that he’s terrified Hawk will take her away from us.

  Tobias never wanted Hawk to find out about Janelle for completely separate reasons. He is convinced that Hawk is off his rocker. Tobias doesn’t want Janelle anywhere near him. He’s being irrational, of course.

  I mean, yes, Hawk did get me pregnant, but to be fair, he didn’t know I was high on my dad’s meds and didn’t realize what I was actually doing. So although what happened was awful, it’s not like I could blame him for my own stupidity. And, yes, Hawk killed my father, but he was only trying to stop my dad’s drunken abuse. I should be grateful to him. Hawk was sentenced with three years in prison just for making sure my own father didn’t beat me to death. If anything, I think we owe Hawk a world of gratitude. But Tobias refuses to see it my way.

  In fact, Hawk is a topic of constant discussion. It seems as though every month Tobias and I have the same conversation about moving out of New Hampshire. Tobias seems to think we need to hide from Hawk, and I keep convincing him that a move isn’t necessary; after all, Hawk has made no threat to our family or made any indication that he has any interest in seeing us once he got out of prison. I’d be willing to wager that Hawk is actually pretty ticked at us. Neither one of us has been to see him since he was imprisoned. Tobias has put his foot down about it. It’s been his one and only bargaining chip with me. We could stay in New Hampshire, as long as I didn’t visit Hawk.

  Ironically, there is a visiting prison center downtown where we could go anytime we wanted and video chat with him. All we’d have to do is walk into town, check in, and they’ll digitally arrange for an online meeting with him. It would be so easy, and yet, neither of us ever did. If I were Hawk, I’d be pissed at the people I thought were my friends.

  I frown at Tobias’s determined expression. He’s not going to let the moving option go now. I don’t want to move. I like it here. For the first time in my life, I actually feel like I belong somewhere. I have visions of Janelle running up the narrow kitchen back stairs to her bedroom. I can practically hear her feet thundering toward Tobias’s old room—her room. This is her home. It’s my home. It’s been my home ever since his mom took me into her house with open arms when I got out of the hospital. I’m not about to let that go just because of Tobias’s irrational paranoia!

  “Let’s talk about this calmly,” I say, patting the cushion beside me. Tiny bits of dust dance in the slice of sunlight that comes in from the window behind me, but Tobias doesn’t sit. Instead, he continues pacing across the floor, deep in thought.

  “Tobias, you need to calm down—”

  “Calm down? You expect me to stay calm now that he knows about Janelle?”

  At the sound of her name, Janelle’s tiny body shifts under me. I rub slow circles along her back, trying to keep her asleep.

  “Keep your voice down,” I scold. “So Hawk knows he has a daughter? Big deal? It’s not like he’s getting out of prison tomorrow, Tobias. We have time to talk about this like adults. For all we know, he might not want anything to do with us.” Tobias stops pacing and looks up at me. “I mean, it’s not like we’ve gone to visit him or anything. He may hate us for abandoning him like that.” I don’t mean to say that last part, but my guilt let it slip out. I do feel guilty about never visiting him. I know if the tables were turned, he would have been there every day to see us.

  Tobias paces a few more times around the room before he finally comes to sit beside me. He laces his hand into mine and instantly I’m at ease. My whole world is complete when he touches me. It’s a feeling I thought would fade away after the newness of him wore off, but it hasn’t—not even a little. Each time he touches me is like a fire igniting inside my soul, a renewing, a rejoining. I feel whole when his hand is in mine, and when we’re apart, my body mourns his loss.

  “Jada, I know it’s hard for you to think of Hawk as dangerous, but... you didn’t see the things I did.” Tobias looks away from me and to the floor, almost as though he regrets telling me that.

  “What things?”

  He scoots off the couch and kneels in front of me, squeezing my hand. He rubs the pad of his thumb in small circles against mine. I can tell he is struggling to form the words he’s about to say.

  “You haven’t seen the way he’s changed.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head a bit, as though he’s trying to rid his mind of an unpleasant thought. “He’s not the kid I grew up with anymore, Jada. When he met you, he became—”

  “Possessive.” I finish for him.

  Tobias nods at me.

  “I remember.” Although I never knew Hawk when they were younger, I do remember how Hawk treated me when we were alone. It was like he’d staked his claim on me. His hands and words were always firm, laced with malice. But aside from a few bruises along my arms from where he held me too tight, he never hurt me. After what my father had done to me, I could handle a few bruises. Tobias, on the other hand, doesn’t have an aggressive bone in his body, so he’s not the best judge of aggression when he sees it. I can’t help but wonder, too, how much of what he feels toward Hawk—is just plain jealousy.

  “Tobias, what did you see Hawk do that you’re not telling me?” It’s clear that he’s struggling with how to phrase his words. He’s always trying to protect me, afraid that I might break apart. I’ve had my share of hard times. When will he learn that I’m not made of glass?

  He lets out a slow, measured breath before he speaks.

  “That night—the night your father attacked
you—”

  I close my eyes, trying to shut out the memory, but it comes crashing into my mind anyway. Those thoughts are like a car crash; you know you shouldn’t look, but you just can’t seem to tear your eyes away. It’s the smell of my father’s breath infused with booze that hits me first, followed by the memory of his dry and chaffed eyes that glare at me with a murderous scowl. My father’s hand is raised over his head, the broken bottle at the ready to come down against my flesh.

  The traitorous flinch I give causes Tobias to stop speaking. A second later he’s resting his head in my lap, trying to soothe me, and the memory dissolves into the past, where I try to lock it away.

  “I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have—”

  “No. It’s okay. He’s dead. He can’t hurt me anymore,” I say with a smile I hope he believes.

  I move my hand to caress Tobias’s hair. He looks up at me and I peer into his delicious chocolate eyes.

  “I want to understand why you have such a fear of him. Admittedly, Hawk was a bit on the rough side in what little time I knew him, but he certainly wasn’t so terrible that I’d want to uproot our entire family just to get away from him!” I don’t mean to raise my voice, but it pours out of me without control.

  Janelle rubs her eyes in protest at hearing me get upset. I instantly regret my hostility.

  “Hey, peanut,” I coo, lifting her from my chest. Her tiny hands ball into fists as she stretches, her eyes squinting in the sunlight. I lift my shirt and bring her to my breast so she can nurse. When she’s happily latched on and clutching a new clump of my hair, Tobias begins his argument anew.

  “You have to understand,” he whispers, “the Hawk I saw the night your dad died was different. You were unconscious so you didn’t see the methodical way he ripped that arrow out of your father’s chest to replace it with the broken bottle—he did it without even flinching, Jada.” Tobias’s face blanches just at the thought. “When Hawk turned back to look at me after, there was nothing there. His eyes were cold, menacing. Evil.”

  I bite my lip at the worry that has blanketed his face.

  “It was the same look he gave me when I accused him of taking advantage of you in the woods. In the moment before he sucker punched me, his eyes did the same thing. They glazed over. He shifted into something—different. The Hawk I grew up with, the guy who used to stand up for me against bullies, had turned into a monster, and I was afraid of him.”

  Tobias rubs his face with his hands.

  “Something changed in him the day he met you, Jada. I know you don’t believe it, but I just know he’s not going to feel any different once he gets out of prison. In fact, every fiber of my body tells me that he’ll come after you.”

  Tobias takes my hand in his again. “That’s why we have to move.” His voice cracks. “Before he gets the chance to try and steal you away from me, Jada. Please. Do this for me, for our daughter.”

  Those last words land harder in my mind than expected. He knows I’d do anything for Janelle if I thought there were a real threat to her. If.

  “Let me sleep on it, okay?”

  His face breaks into his perfectly crooked smile. He thinks he’s won the debate, but I’m not agreeing to anything. Not yet. Not until I talk with Hawk myself. This whole thing has been blown way out of proportion. I love my home and the life I have here in Webster. I don’t want to move. For once, I finally feel comfortable in my own skin. The last thing I want to do is move to a whole new place where people would gawk and ask questions about how I got my scar. At least here everyone knows my story and keeps their snide remarks to themselves.

  Apparently, it’s time I prove to Tobias that Hawk is no real threat to us. This is just Tobias’s jealousy coming through. It’s time that I prove to him this is all one big misunderstanding.

  Chapter Two

  Tobias

  While Ma resumes cleaning up the living room, Jada heads upstairs to try and put Janelle down for the rest of her nap. Me? I head to the basement to find some luggage. She hasn’t agreed to move—yet, but I want to be ready when she comes to her senses.

  I flick on the lights and cautiously make my way down the narrow staircase, stepping over the broken board on the third step down. The earthy scent coming from our indoor potato garden fills the cool space. They are thriving nicely down here, away from the pesticides that killed off the others.

  Looking around the room under the flickering florescent light, I start rummaging around for the red suitcases Ma used to use whenever she had to visit me in the hospital when I was younger. I remember hating the site of those bags. If she dragged those things up the stairs, it always meant I was getting sick and would be staying at the hospital for a long time. There was always the unspoken truth that I might check in one day and never check out. My lungs were that bad. Until, that is, I met Jada. She was with me when I suffered asthma attacks that should have killed me. I honestly believe because she was with me, I didn’t die back then. I’d been waiting all these years for her. She is my miracle.

  For the first few months Jada and I were together, Ma worried about my lungs, worried incessantly that my recovery was only temporary. As the days ticked by and I got stronger, she slowly started to believe that Jada may be the key. The day I stopped using my meds, she almost had a panic attack. A month later, she moved the red suitcases down to the basement, finally convinced that we wouldn’t need them anymore. I got to hand it to her—she did a damn good job of hiding them. I can’t find anything down here!

  Every corner of the basement is piled high with junk. Trunks filled with Ma’s clothes from her “skinny years.” She’ll never part with them because she swears she’ll fit into them again. One whole corner of the basement is filled to the brim with my old baby clothes, many of them with their tags still attached. She adopted me later in life and had no other kids of her own and overestimated how many onesies a baby actually needs. She was saving them for Janelle, but of course when we found out she was a girl, Ma had to go and buy brand new sets, all in pink. Of course, she won’t throw this batch away, just in case we decided to have more.

  I kick a few old boxes crammed with stuff and labeled “yard sale” out of the way as I search. One of the boxes topples over and comes crashing to the concrete. The sound of broken glass confirms that whatever was inside didn’t survive the fall. Oops.

  I freeze for a second, waiting for Ma to come running to find out what broke, but she doesn’t. Cursing, I start picking up the shards and I place them in an empty box at the base of the stairs. I’ll bring it up with the suitcases, if I ever find them!

  I’m not sure yet what we’ll tell Ma. I highly doubt she’ll wanna come with us. This place is her home. Then again, she may be willing, now that Janelle is here. Ma is just as smitten with her granddaughter as she had been with Hawk.

  Hawk.

  What do I tell Ma about Hawk? She’ll never believe he’d be capable of harming any of us. Of course, she’s never seen his darker side.

  In the end, though, it won’t matter what Ma thinks. I’m moving my family out of this town. I need to protect Jada. She’s been through more than any one person should in a lifetime. It’s my job to protect her in any way I can.

  As I try to move a box full of hangers, it slips out of my grasp and comes crashing to the ground, the hangers tangling themselves into a plastic web of interlocking hooks. Annoyed, I bend over and start cramming them back to into the box. It’s as I reach down to grab another load that I find them: three blood-red cases tucked under the bottom of the mountain. I shake my head. Only my mother wouldn’t actually stack the cases inside one another the way they’re supposed to be stored. Nope. She leaves them out so they can fill as much space as possible.

  Grumbling, I start moving aside randomly filled boxes of junk, not paying any attention to where they land. When I finally grasp the cracked plastic handle, I give it a good yank. The smallest of the cases comes free from the pile.

  I can’t help but frown at the stat
e it’s in. Three corners of the case sport thick coatings of silver duct tape. A new crack along the front will need repair now as well. I’d forgotten how often they’ve been used. Stroking a thumb across the worn leather, I whisper that I just need one last trip out of them.

  The middle case comes free without any effort; it looks a little better than the first. Yanking the largest one from its nesting spot however, I feel my lungs constrict a bit. Weird. They haven’t felt tight in months. Guess I’ve pushed myself harder than I thought. I set the case down gently and sit on the edge of it, trying to slow down my breathing. The pain doesn’t subside, though. In fact, it actually gets a little worse.

  “Ma!” I yell, rubbing at my chest. “Can you toss down my inhaler?”

  I wait, hunched over on the suitcase, for her feet to shuffle across living room and into the kitchen, but they don’t come. She must not have heard me. Annoyed, I yell again. Still, no answer.

  That’s not like her. Ma’s a worrywart. She’s just in the living room. She would have heard me; the floorboards aren’t that thick. Tilting my head up, I listen again. It’s quiet. Too quiet.

  Dropping the cases, I fly up the stairs faster than my lungs would like and immediately scan the kitchen. Ma’s tea water sits blinking that it’s ready yet still un-poured in its carafe. My already strained breath comes faster.

  Spying the white medical kit on top of the fridge, I grab it, flip open the latches, and grab one of three inhalers tucked inside. I take a quick series of puffs before I pocket it and jog into the living room. It, too, is empty.

  “Ma!” I shout again. “Jada?”

  The only answer I get is a creak in the floorboards upstairs. My fists clench instinctively as I run up the stairs two at a time. At the top, I notice that the bathroom door is open and the lights are off. The light drip from the faucet thunders in my eardrums. Our room is down the hall, the door is slightly ajar, but it’s Janelle’s room that pulls me closer. A muted noise comes from behind her closed door. Shadows dance against the sun that pours out of her room from a crack at the bottom of the door. My eyes dart around for something to use in defense. The only thing there is our fake banana tree.