No Chance by Lisa Suzanne

CHAPTER 18: HANNAH

The comforting smell of vanilla plows into my olfactory sense, and I’m not sure if it’s Brett, the sheets, or my imagination.

I think it’s Brett.

I’ve only been this close to him once, and it was the night I told him he was a father. I was less focused on what he smelled like and more focused on the task at hand. But now that we’re sharing the five feet of space a queen bed offers, all I can smell is vanilla mixed with some kind of wood scent. It’s sweet and fresh and masculine all at once, and I find it incredibly soothing.

And then I feel guilty for finding it soothing.

I shouldn’t feel soothed by anything to do with him.

I hate him.

Remember?

Although I guess if I have to remind myself that I hate him, maybe I don’t so much anymore. I didn’t know him before. All I knew was that he put a baby in my sister and disappeared.

I put my sister on a pedestal her whole life. She saved me from foster care. She adopted me. She took care of me, and I took care of her, too. We were all the other had for a long, long time.

But maybe I’m starting to see that I shifted all the blame to Brett even though there were two people involved in the creation of sweet little Chance. And maybe what happened doesn’t matter. The fact is that Chance is here, and I’m here, and we only have each other...and this man who seemed so royally against allowing us into his life but is actually putting forth the effort now.

We can’t change the past, but we can certainly reshape the future.

I’m facing toward Chance, and Brett is facing toward the opposite wall. We’re two strangers in a bed together, and we’re only here to sleep.

So why can’t I sleep?

Why do I keep breathing in his woody vanilla?

His breathing evens, and he’s asleep beside me. I try to calm my thoughts by focusing on his breathing. I try not to think of everything I’ve lost, but in trying not to think about it, it’s all I can think about.

I already miss Brie. I miss our meager existence. I’m scared for what the next three months hold, scared to share this bus with this man who doesn’t really want us here and only invited us out of obligation, scared to be on the same bus as Tommy Stevenson who’s known for his penchant for drugs, alcohol, and fast women.

And most of all, I’m scared for what comes next.

Getting on this bus meant leaving my problems behind in Phoenix. But in three months when I return...they’ll still be there. I know I can’t outrun what I’m leaving behind, and the thought scares me.

Nothing is permanent. It’s a lesson I’ve learned all too well in my twenty-two years. People don’t stick around forever. I have Chance in my life now, but what happens when Brett is used to things and this tour is over? He won’t keep me on as a nanny forever.

Life goes on. Right?

These are things we’ll surely talk about over the next few months. They aren’t the things I need to worry about right this minute.

It was a long, hard day, and eventually the rumble of the bus lulls me to sleep.

I wake to the sound of a crying baby, and I’m a little disoriented at first. The bus has stopped moving, and through the blinds covering the windows, I can see that the sun is out again. But it’s neither of those things that I notice first.

Strong, warm arms that smell like vanilla and wood are wrapped around me.

My arm is tossed casually around someone else’s midsection, and my head is nestled in the nook between his shoulder and his chest.

It’s warm here, and it’s comforting, and it smells divine...and it’s completely, totally wrong.

I jump out of his arms before he can even realize that we were sleeping that way. We must’ve both shifted into the other at some point during the night.

I’m sure this bed has seen plenty of women, but the same can’t really be said for my own bed. I’m not a virgin, but I wouldn’t exactly call myself experienced. I slept with Paul when I was nineteen. We’d been dating three months, and it felt like the right time. It was fine, but nothing like the songs tell you. Nothing like the movies show.

The first time was a little painful. The second time was marginally better. The third time was okay. And that was it. We broke up shortly after when he took a job in Tucson and moved south, leaving me behind just like everybody does.

Between school and work, I never had time for a relationship.

That’s not true.

I never made time for one. I didn’t want one when I knew it would only end one way...the same way every important relationship in my life has ever ended.

And this will be no different. Brett will care for his son, he’ll tolerate me, and then we’ll part ways, maybe friends, maybe not. Sharing a bed is where it begins and ends.

I can’t even admit to myself that it felt really damn good to wake up in his arms. Safe. Warm. Comforting. All feelings I don’t think I’ve ever felt before all at the same time.

All feelings that might become addicting if I’m allowed to experience them again.

I hear him shift in the bed as I grab Chance from the crib, cooing softly to get him to calm down. He does nearly instantly, and I think of the millions of times Brie commented about what an easy baby he is. She’s right. He’s easygoing and sweet. He sleeps well and he’s always smiling, and the poor kid doesn’t even know that he just lost his mom. Thank God at least I can still be here for him. I’m a poor substitute for Brie, but this still has to be better than whatever the courts might offer.

When I glance over at Brett, he’s watching me carefully. He’s sitting up in bed, and the sheet has fallen to his waist. My eyes automatically flick to those abs he has. They’re freaking perfect, and my hand was right there on them when I woke up this morning.

I immediately blush at the thought, and I’m thankful it’s still dim in here since the blinds are drawn.

I still hate him, I remind myself. But each time I have to remind myself of that fact, I question the validity of it a little more.

“Morning,” he says, his voice scratchy from sleep.

“Good morning,” I say in a little singsong for Chance’s benefit. “Sleep well?”

He ducks his head a little, and I can’t help but wonder if he knows I woke up in his arms. “Fine. You?”

“Yeah. Fine.” Fantastic, actually, given the circumstances.

It’s the first full day of our new normal, and we start the day with breakfast in the front cabin of the bus. Tommy’s still asleep, the curtain around his bed drawn as we make our way through his room toward the front. Brett watches as I get a squeeze pouch out of the cabinet and start feeding it to Chance, and then he adds water to a coffee pot and starts the process there.

A few minutes later, he sets down a plate of muffins and two premade cheese omelets, one for himself and one for me. “Want anything to drink?” he asks as he starts pouring his first cup of coffee.

“I can get it.” I finish feeding Chance the last bite then fill his tray with Cheerios. I stand and open the fridge to look at my options, and I opt for a Diet Coke. I back up a little, my ass brushes right against Brett’s front side.

My eyes widen as I feel his hardness right there against my backside.

“Oh!” I gasp. “I’m so sorry.”

He grips my hip for a beat to steady me. “It’s fine,” he says, his voice is a little hoarse.

Whoa. My stomach flips wildly.

We both return to the table. I open my soda, trying to pretend like I didn’t just feel his erection on my backside, trying to push it out of my mind, trying completely unsuccessfully to forget about it.

Why can’t I forget about it?

This is ridiculous.

I push it out when the guilt sets in.

I don’t even like this guy. I spent my entire adult life listening to my sister’s obsession with him and his band and everything Brett Pitzer, and suddenly I’m living this life she would’ve given anything to have.

Brett clears his throat. “So tonight’s a gig night. I want you to come.”

“I can’t. It’ll be too loud for the baby.” I press my lips together. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “I asked Amanda if she’ll take Chance since she’ll already be watching Luna and Maya. She’s in.”

My brows dip. “I can’t...” But I can’t really think of a good reason why.

He reaches across the table and squeezes my arm gently. “Yeah, you can. I trust Amanda, and you should, too. It’s okay to have a little fun. You’ve been through a lot, and you deserve a night off.”

A night off.

It doesn’t sound horrible.

I haven’t had a real night off in ages. Between working at the bar and watching Chance when Brie needed me to, it’s been at least nine months since I had a night just to do whatever I wanted. Not that Brett’s offering me that, exactly, but it could be interesting to see how all the backstage stuff works at a concert. I just wish it was for a band I actually liked.

The guilt presses in again, and it must show on my face. I have a hell of a poker face when I’m playing cards, but much less so when it comes to real-life emotions.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“It’s just...” I trail off. How, exactly, do I admit that this is everything Brie never got to have? I bite my lip as tears threaten to fall. Oh, great. Just what I need in this moment. I blow out a breath. Honesty’s the best policy, right? “I feel like I’m betraying my sister. I’m suddenly getting everything she ever wanted.”

His face falls a little with sympathy as his brows push together. His eyes meet mine, and they’re dark and hooded. “It’s not betrayal, Hannah,” he says, and his voice holds this sincerity I don’t know that I’ve recognized in him before. “You’re taking care of her child. Of our child. You’re leaving your entire life behind to honor her final wishes. What you’re doing...it’s strong. It’s courageous.”

A little shudder runs through me at the way he’s looking at me. It starts at the base of my spine and travels all the way up to my neck.

His words aren’t just comforting. They’re beautiful. They’re everything I needed to hear.

And I think I might be in a load of trouble here.