No Chance by Lisa Suzanne

CHAPTER 26: HANNAH

“Tell her about the time you walked onto Ethan Fuller’s bus,” Tyler says.

Danielle laughs. She must know this story.

Brett twists his lips with a touch of chagrin. “Do I have to?” he asks.

The four of us are at the afterparty, but it’s after the afterparty. The guys put in their time and now we’re sitting at a table in the back room drinking the bar’s liquor. Dustin already went back to the hotel, and Tommy found his prey for the evening, but Brett and Tyler weren’t quite ready to call it quits.

They talked me into a vodka sprite. They said it’s a nice, easy drink for someone who’s never had a hangover, and Danielle couldn’t believe I’ve never had a hangover. Something about how clear liquor doesn’t hit as hard as the darker stuff.

I’ve been tipsy before, but never so drunk that I woke up the next morning feeling sick. But just half of one vodka drink so far and I’m already feeling the effects. It’s quite calming, and I don’t feel sick. That’s probably the signal that I should stop drinking. The only way to go from here is down.

Brett sighs then begins his tale. “On the tour when we opened for Vail, Tommy and I were pretty high after a show one night, and I went back to our bus to get more beer.”

“Wait,” I say, holding up a hand. “You were high and drunk?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Yeah. Part of the lifestyle.”

“Uh, I beg to differ,” Danielle says.

Brett gives her a look but doesn’t respond to that. “Anyway, I walked on the bus and opened the refrigerator and couldn’t find the beer. I heard some noise coming from the bunk section so I went in there and it wasn’t the bunks, it was a bedroom. And there was Ethan Fuller, the drummer of Vail who I’ve basically modeled my entire career after, banging into his wife doggy style. I was so fucked up that I just stood there watching until they saw me.” That part elicits raucous laughter from Tyler and Danielle. “When they finally did, Ethan started yelling at me to get the fuck out. And that’s the story of how I made an enemy of my idol.”

I can’t help a giggle. “How long ago was that?”

Brett shrugs. “A few years. He tolerates me now. By the end of the tour, he was talking to me again. But he was pretty pissed that I just stood there watching. I blamed it on bad weed and he seemed to get it.”

“Do you still smoke a lot of weed?” I ask, my brows crinkling.

“Is it a problem if I do?” he retorts.

Danielle and Tyler exchange a glance and I don’t know what to say. It’s not a problem, I guess. It’s just not part of my lifestyle.

Before I get a chance to answer, he amends his response. “Not as often since you and the kid have been traveling with us.”

Even Tyler looks surprised by that. “I told you kids would change you.”

Brett shrugs. “Just trying to do the right thing and adjust to this new normal.”

I’m not sure why, but the new normal line throws me for a bit of a loop. It could be the vodka, but I swear I sense a bit of regret in his tone, and that makes me feel uncomfortable.

I’m not really sure why, though. Of course it’s a new normal for him. It is for me, too. But it’s also a reminder that this is a temporary normal, and it’s really the first time I’ve thought about what might be next for Chance and me once this tour is over.

I’ll be going back to Phoenix, more than likely. Brett paid out the remainder of my lease, so it only makes sense. But will Chance be with me? Will Brett?

Or will I be going home alone?

I stop drinking at that point as a little bit of grim darkness washes over me. I’ve taken myself out of the moment where I was having fun with friends as reality plowed back into me.

I think Brett senses my mood change, and he takes me back to the hotel. I feel bad because I don’t think he was ready to call it a night, but he did it for me. He’s making sacrifices that I’m pretty sure he’s never had to make before.

We stop by Dustin and Amanda’s room to pick up a sleeping Chance. We carry him to our room carefully, and I lay him down in his crib.

I move out toward the bathroom to get ready for bed, and Brett is standing there, blocking my way to the bathroom.

“What happened back there?” he asks.

I shrug as I turn my eyes toward the ground.

“Hey,” he says softly, and he reaches out to brush the hair out of my face. My eyes meet his concerned ones, and a beat of quiet passes between us.

He leans down and nuzzles my nose with his, and my stomach flip flops as I’m certain he’s going to kiss me.

God, do I want him to kiss me.

Instead, he straightens. “You can talk to me, you know.”

I nod. “Thank you. I just got a little overwhelmed with everything.”

He pulls me into him. His arms are warm and comforting, and I rest my head on his chest and breathe in his vanilla wood.

“I know it’s a lot,” he murmurs, his voice soothing and low. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”

“It’s not you,” I amend. “It’s not the story about walking onto Ethan’s bus. I was just...” I pull back out of his arms even though I don’t want to. “I was just having a good time, and I felt a little guilty about it. And then I started thinking about what happens when this tour is over.”

“We’ll cross that bridge in a couple months. It’s nothing to stress over now.”

That’s easy for the guy with the padded bank account to say. I don’t toss that retort at him, though. Instead, I just nod as if he’s right. “I should get ready for bed.” I turn to go into the bathroom, but he grabs my bicep to stop my progress.

“Hannah?”

I tilt my head curiously as I turn back toward him.

“Don’t ever feel guilty for having a good time. Don’t ever feel guilty for living your life. She wouldn’t have wanted you to suffer, and punishing yourself doesn’t do anybody any good.”

I press my lips together and nod, and then I let myself into the bathroom to let the tears freefall while I do everything in my power to truly buy into the words he just said to me.

Brett doesn’t come to bed again, something I already knew as I tossed and turned through the night and is only confirmed when I wake in the morning alone in the big bed. I’m hangover free thanks to stopping at the three-quarter point of my vodka drink last night, and that strange feeling of abandonment is strong this morning after we had fun last night.

I feel him backing away a little—and not just when it comes to sleeping arrangements. He didn’t attempt to grab my hand last night, and I thought maybe he’d try to kiss me. He didn’t.

I’m puzzled by him. One minute he’s being sweet and holding my hand and looking at me like he wants to tear my clothes off, and the next he’s treating me like the employee he hired me to be.

I’ve taken basic psychology classes as part of my prerequisites to that social work degree, and I’m certain there’s an underlying reason to his actions.

Every time we start to get close, he backs off.

Is it because he feels weird thinking that way about me after he had sex with my sister? Somehow I doubt that. It doesn’t seem like that would be a problem for someone like Brett. He strikes me more as the kind of guy who would invite sisters into his bed at the same time if he had the chance.

Is it because he isn’t attracted to me? Or maybe he doesn’t want to push me when he knows how much my life has turned upside down...maybe he’s treating me gently because of my grief.

He’s known for the notches in his belt. Part of me wants to know what it’s like to be one of those notches while the other part of me is terrified of it. There’s a reason he even has that belt in the first place. There’s a reason he doesn’t get involved with women past a single night.

And the more time I spend with him, the more I want to not just uncover that reason...but I also want to heal it.