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Nothing will happen. Several hours later, her gaze on the clock, Annie repeated the mantra in her head as the time nudged closer to the site tour. "Nothing to worry about." When a shadow loomed before her, she startled.
"Easy, sweet." Hank's voice joined her at the counter she swiped it for the hundredth time. "Y'all shouldn’t have anything to worry about on a day as pretty as this."
"Hello, Henry." His friendly eyes matched his smile. Now, an entirely different set of nerves began buzzing—for an increasingly irresistible man. She hoped he couldn't read the eagerness tracing through her. "Are you ready for the kids?"
"We're ready," he confirmed, his eyes sparkling. "Me 'an the boys have got a couple surprises lined up." He was enjoying this as much as the kids would later. "I'm excited to see how Tommy and Jason like the show this afternoon."
"They could barely sleep last night," she confessed. Hank's smile soothed her jumping nerves. The wound-up feeling in her stomach slowly uncoiled. There was something calming about his easygoing confidence. "Tommy wanted to get on the bus at six this morning, just so the day would go faster."
His smile broadened. "How about you? Any chance I can convince you to take a break and join us?"
Staring into magnetic, blue eyes, Annie could feel heat radiating from him, the scent of outdoors and sunscreen filling her senses with a sharp pang of longing. Despite the counter separating them, she wanted to take a step closer. "I couldn’t sleep either," she confessed, launching her secret out there on a test balloon of sudden boldness. The flare of surprise in his eyes was followed by a burst of heat that sent her heartbeat into a strange, skittering rhythm. "I’d love to come this afternoon."
He leaned in, brushing his mouth against her ear, sending shivers of heat cascading down her back. "Maybe we could grab dinner after? Someplace the boys would like?"
Though he couldn't hide the eagerness in his voice, Hank’s expression was a blend of hope and carefully schooled resignation, as though preparing himself for her to say no once again. But, how could she say no? When everything inside her was singing yes? "I think that's a wonderful idea."
He stilled, then released a gusting breath. "Really?" Pushing off the counter, he nodded. "Okay, then. It’s . . . a date." An irresistible dimple winked in one cheek. He checked his watch. "I’ll see you outside in an hour."
***
"REMEMBER YOUR BREATHING," Marisol coached Annie an hour later as they stepped carefully through the dirt to reach the demonstration site. "Keep taking deep breaths and you should be fine. We're right here with you."
"Where . . . where are the boys?" Distracted, she glanced back over her shoulder. They were a long way from the door. But . . . her boys were out there, too. Her brain on overload with too many problems to worry about at once, she had trouble concentrating. "Where's Tommy-"
"He's right there, Sugar." Sharon pointed them out. "He and Hector are thick as thieves and Big Pete's standing five feet from them." She captured her nervous fingers. "He's not gonna let one tiny thing happen to any of our boys."
"And girl," Marisol pointed out, chuckling. "We have at least one little girl who was interested."
Smoke belching from the equipment, the air hung heavy with diesel, adding to the aura of excitement for the boys. Annie managed a smile. She'd have to remember all the details so she could talk to Tommy and Jason about it that night. Her eyes sought Hank, as he directed the subs, his smile easing her worry. He won't let anything happen.
Across the site, Hank winked at her as he began introductions. She couldn't contain her smile when he presented each of the kids with a miniature hardhat with their name on the brim. He'd thought of everything . . . down to the smallest detail. They were all wearing miniature neon yellow safety vests. She heard him talking about the equipment, how fast it could go, how much weight it could carry and how dangerous it could be if they didn't pay attention. Safety, his low, sexy voice reminded, was the most important thing. His drawl wandered through her system. That if they remembered all the safety rules, there'd be a surprise at the end. How could his voice . . . act like a sedative to her rapidly fluttering heart?
Allowing it to wash over her, Annie sensed something strange begin to happen. Her gaze glued to Hank, she slowly felt herself calm. Felt her worry drizzle away. She was a hundred yards from the building, her brain lazily reminded her. Maybe another day, she responded. Another day, she would worry enough for ten people. But today, for right now . . . she was going to enjoy the intoxicating sense of freedom.
Fifteen minutes later, Hank's surprise elicited shrieks from six little boys (and one very happy red-haired girl).
"Y'all have been great listeners to all the safety tips," Hank explained. "So, each of you will get to take a turn driving the roller with Lefty and the bucketloader with Chico."
Annie smothered her laughter when the kids erupted, jumping around as though it were Christmas morning. Hank startled. For a moment, he looked bewildered by their response, before his face split with a grin. Even Pete's perpetual scowl wavered for a moment. Six burly men cracking up over the kids' excitement. They were all having way too much fun.
Jeff Traynor quickly lined everyone up. One of the guys on the site crew would hoist a kid onto Lefty's lap for the quick trip around the site, followed by Chico and another child on a piece of equipment that looked very much like one of the bright yellow toys Hank had brought Jase and Tommy. Annie watched, chest tight with joy as Tommy was lifted up for his turn at the controls. His face wreathed in smiles, Tommy jabbered away in Lefty's ear. She could see him nodding as he answered a million questions. How long since you've seen him this happy?
"What'd you think?" Hank joined her, his familiar scent as comforting as his presence. Marisol drifted away to join Jeff Traynor and collect Hector.
"I can't thank you enough." Lifting up on tiptoes, she planted a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear. "Thank you." His arm came around her, his hand at her back, as though he didn't care whether anyone saw them. "You've made two little boys happier than I've ever seen them."
Beautiful eyes sparkled. "How about their mom?"
She swallowed around the sudden dryness in her throat. It was a day for boldness. For not turning back. For not second-guessing. "You've made her happy for the last seven weeks."
His hand stilled before nudging her closer. "I can't tell you how glad I am to hear that." He lowered his mouth to hers, giving her a brief kiss before pulling back. "Let's hold this for later," he suggested. "I've got a tour to wrap up."
***
LATER, SEATED IN A booth at dinner, Hank couldn't stop smiling, though exactly what the hell he was smiling over, he wasn't sure. Carnival noises overwhelmed from the kiddie arcade behind them, bright lights flashing. The McKenna brothers swiveling around in their seats, barely eating their dinner as they tried to observe everything going on around them. The swell of a blaring jukebox prevented him from having much of a conversation with Annie . . . who was equally distracted. Either she was cutting up food for Jason, breaking up a squabble between the boys or glancing around the restaurant, seeming to need to eyeball every person who walked through the door.
But, they were out. Away from the shelter. The boys were thrilled. They were together—eating dinner like a family.
"Mr. Hank, can we go to the arcade?"
He glanced at Annie, who frowned. "Not until after dinner, bud." Hank pointed to his plate. "You've only eaten two bites of your hamburger."
"But . . . we need to see stuff." Tommy's expression suggesting that should be a good enough explanation.
"If you don't eat your dinner, how will you be strong enough to run around later at the park?" Taking Annie's lead, he tried to imagine ways that would gain cooperation without scolding. "I'm gonna end up being faster than you. And I'm old," he tacked on.
"I'm eatin' all my chickens," Jason pointed out around a mouthful of food.
"I'll be the fastest," Tommy boasted, before picking up his burger and taking a huge bite.
"Don't forget to chew." Hiding his smile, he glanced at Annie. "You can eat it slow, bud. We're not in any rush." Behind Jason's head, he fistbumped her hand.
"Can we play on swings when we get there?" Jason waggled a french fry in his direction. "I don't like the teeter-totter."
"Honey, if you're done, put that down on your plate." She glanced up. "Tommy, be careful with your drink-" Annie's distracted voice made him smile. As usual, she was trying to stay on top of everything.
"We can play on everything," he assured. "Why don't you like the teeter-totter?"
"Cuz it thumps down." Jason's earnest eyes stared back at him. "It scares me when it bumps." He bounced up and down in his seat to demonstrate.
"I don't think I'd like that, either." The next second, Jason's glass toppled over, sending a river of chocolate milk streaming across the table toward Tommy. "Oops—I'll help you-" Hank rose from his seat, intent on stopping the flow before it dripped over the side.
"I's sorry-" Jason's eyes filled with tears.
Tommy bolted up from his chair, nearly toppling it. "Don't—don't hit him," he pleaded, his eyes filled with terror. "It's . . . an accident." He gulped in several breaths as Hank froze in his steps. "Don't . . . please don't . . . h-hit him."
"Tommy, it's okay." A chill raced down his spine, his heart fisting with the sudden realization the little guy was terrified—of him. That he actually expected him to- He swallowed hard. Holy hell. A little boy . . . expected to be beaten. Over an accident? His thoughts splintered with too many questions. When? How often? Sweet Jesus—their father hit them. He'd beaten—his children. And maybe—his wife. "I would never hurt you."
Annie. He couldn't risk looking at her, almost afraid of the disturbing knowledge he might read in her eyes. His heart pounding like a freight train, Hank was entirely uncertain what he would do with confirmation. Jesus—had she been abused, too? He dragged in a shallow breath, almost afraid to breathe. "Buddy, I promise . . . it's okay. I promise."
Frozen in place, Tommy stood in front of his brother, shaking off Annie's hand when she tried to comfort him. "I'll . . . c-clean it for h-him."
"How about . . .we clean it up together?" Unwilling to move until he received Tommy's consent, he held his breath, the noise of the restaurant swirling around them as though they'd been frozen in a slow-motion carnival tableau. Happy noises drowning out terror. Annie, too, seemed suspended in place, stroking Jason's back after he'd leaped into her lap.
He sniffed back tears. "O-okay."
"Can you . . . walk over there and get us a few napkins?"
Several seconds passed before Tommy would risk shifting his gaze from Hank, before finally nodding. "Where we gots our drinks?"
"Uh-huh." Hank was careful to remain still, as though he were approaching an injured animal. Heart beating out of his chest, he forced himself to remain calm. Don't make it worse, his brain shouted. But . . . how many times? How many beatings did it take . . . before you learned to watch every move your father made? The part of his brain that wasn't frozen was calculating math. Two and four. They'd been two and four when she left him. The bastard had beaten a four-year-old? He shuddered. Or younger. "Just grab a bunch and come back here," he heard himself say, his voice nearly clinical in tone. "We'll get this cleaned up in no time. Then—if everyone's done . . . we'll go to the park."
Tommy blinked. "We—we can still go? You'll . . . still take us?"
"Of course, we're going." Slowly, he lowered into a squat so he'd be at Tommy's eye level. "TomTom, I promised you and your brother we would go to the park. That means we're going."
"But . . . we spilled-"
"No 'buts', buddy." Hank maintained eye contact. "If I'm ever not sure about something, I don't make a promise." Her boys didn't know what to expect. Promises broken. Cruelty inflicted. His stomach roiled, remembering Tommy's hair-trigger terror. He suspected punishment had been all-too-familiar to them. Tommy didn't know what to believe. Likely, from anyone. But, definitely not from him—an adult male.
Still not looking at Annie, he forced a smile. "I'll bet on a night as pretty as this, there'll probably be an ice cream truck there."
Tommy shot a glance at his brother. "We could get popsicles."
When Jason nodded, thumb in his mouth, Tommy finally relaxed his stance. "Okay, I'll be right back."
Watching him run to the drink station, Hank released a ragged sigh. "Jase? Come here, little man." Annie had turned her head, likely blinking back tears. Likely worried about him. Likely beating herself up. He waited for Jason to scoot across the booth. "You okay, bud?"
When Jason nodded, he scooped him up in his arms and planted a kiss on his forehead. He'd never needed the touch of another human being more than he did just then. When Tommy returned, he pulled the little boy in for a hug. "C'mon guys, lets mop up this chocolate river and then we'll head to the park."
"Wouldn't it be cool if rivers were chocolate?"
Tommy's innocent smile made him want to weep. As though he hadn't just been completely terrified of—him. As though the situation was so damned normal—as though he were used to it. Still in his arms, Jason nodded, his tangle of brown curls brushing his neck. "Chocolate fish."
"Chocolate turtles." Tommy laid a pile of napkins on the spill. Annie took over from there, quickly mopping up the evidence.
Finally meeting his gaze, her eyes were laden with sadness. Instinct told him to wait. All the questions wanting to explode from him. All the answers he wanted to demand—to learn about her ex—so he could find him. Hunt him down. Rectify a horrifying wrong—once and for all. Instead, he forced a smile he definitely wasn't feeling. Anger—even if on their behalf, would likely make it worse for her. And the last thing in the world he wanted was to make life more difficult for Annie when she was already trying so damned hard.
"You ready, sweet?" Hank stared at her, his memories tumbling into place. Skittish. Wary. Fearful. What in holy hell had the bastard done to them?
She released a steadying breath. "I think we can go now."
***
SURPRISINGLY, THE DRIVE to the park was not as fraught as Annie had imagined only ten minutes earlier . . . when her son had blurted out their dark, horrifying family secret to Hank. Blurted out the shame that still haunted her over the abuse her sons witnessed. Though Henry hadn't said anything . . . and likely wouldn't in front of the boys, his concern for her . . . seemed to vibrate through the interior of his truck. She glanced down at his hand resting on hers. It was time. To confess some of what they'd gone through—if only so he'd learn exactly what he'd inadvertently taken on. He deserved to know what her life was really like—so he could make his own decisions going forward.
She was relieved Tommy was able to set aside the trauma over spilled milk so quickly. That was different. An improvement. The longer we go without seeing Phil- The better likelihood he'd forget the terrible memories—though his fear of being hurt again clearly remained. Her thoughts troubled, Annie scanned the side mirror again. Searching. Though she hadn't seen Phil in ten weeks . . . his presence was always with her. In the damage he'd wrought on the last little rental house she'd moved them into. Her small sense of accomplishment—destroyed after only ten days. In their need to flee. To another shelter. Though New Beginnings had turned out to be a godsend, it was because of Phil they were forced to live there. She felt his presence—in the waiting. For him to strike again. He's always in control—instead of me.
"How long can we stay at the park?"
"How about . . . until o' dark hundred?" Henry's smiling gaze met her son's in the rearview mirror.
Glancing over her shoulder at the boys, her neck muscles protested. Though she ached nearly everywhere, Annie smiled at the memory of her first class with Candace. Though her friend from the shelter seemed to be an expert with a vicious-looking baton, Annie and the other women had settled for baseball bats that Sharon had unearthed in the storage room. Since none of the woman had money to buy Candace's weapon of choice, she'd adjusted their lesson for the extra weight of the bat. Annie had swung it so many times, she doubted she'd be able to pick up a coffee cup the next morning.
"Where's that on the clock?"
Her thoughts scattering, she caught her son's confused expression. "It's not on the clock we use, honey." They were sitting up, in matching car seats, scanning the scenery on the way to the park. She bit her lip. Where on earth had Henry found car seats?
"Mommy, how come we didn't learn that one?"
"O' dark hundred is army-guy talk," Hank explained, pausing for their squeals of excitement—over anything related to the stories he'd told the boys.
"We can talk like army guys?" Tommy nudged his brother. "Maybe he'll let us jump outta a plane, too."
Annie shuddered. "That's . . . not going to happen."
"O' dark hundred," Tommy repeated. "Is that suppertime?"
"It's right before it gets dark," he explained as he found a parking space. "So, this time of year, it's around seven-thirty."
"What other times are there?" Tommy waited for Hank to unbuckle the strap on his car seat. "What time is breakfast?"
"That's around o' seven hundred." Reaching around him, Hank grabbed a folded blanket from between the car seats. "Lunch is o'twelve hundred."
"And supper?"
"O' eighteen hundred." He lifted him from the truck. "And your bedtime is-" He glanced at Annie.
"O' twenty hundred." She glanced at Tommy as she unstrapped Jason. "On our clock, that's eight o'clock, after your bath."
"And story time," Jason piped up.
Hank was observing Tommy's puzzled expression. "How many hours in one whole day?"
"Twenty-four?"
"Very good." He ruffled his hair. "So—each day, the clock goes around twice, right?"
Tommy's eyes reflected confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Well, you have six o'clock two times a day, right? Once in the morning when you get up to go to school and once at night when you eat dinner."
"Uh-huh."
"So, in the army, you always want to make sure you're talking about the same time. Like . . . what if I was on a mission and the Major said we were meeting at six o'clock . . . which one is he talking about? Breakfast or dinner?" He let Tommy think about it. "What if I showed up at the wrong time? What if I slept through my mission?"
Tommy laughed. "The plane could take off without you." He glanced at Jason. "He wouldn't get to jump out."
Annie shivered. "I don't like thinking about Mr. Hank jumping out of planes," she protested, until Henry's hand at her back sent a delicious shiver sliding through her.
"My army clock just keeps going," he explained. "Instead of stopping at twelve and starting over, army guys just keep going. Thirteen, fourteen . . . all the way to twenty-four."
Tommy stared at him, then glanced at his fingers as he counted in his head. "So, supper is like . . . eighteen o'clock?"
Hank grinned. "Close enough." He pointed across the field to the mulched playground area. "Who's going to be first down that slide?"
Her son took off running. Turning back, he waved to Jason. "C'mon." Always a few steps behind his older brother, he glanced back at Annie before breaking into a run.
"Henry . . ." Her brief pleasure faltered at the knowledge that—it was time. To tell him everything. To learn whether the most wonderful, thoughtful man she'd ever met . . . was about to say "your life is way too complicated". Hell—she couldn't even blame him. Why pick her? A single mom to two sweet, loving handfuls. With an ex intent on ruining her life. Despair swamping her, Annie hated for it all to end. Yet, she only had herself to blame. She could've told him sooner. "I'm sorry I didn't-"
"Sshh, sweet." He brushed his mouth over hers, before stopping to stare at her. Cupping her face in his hands, his rough, callused fingers stroked her cheeks. "We'll talk later."
When they parted from the quick kiss, he tucked her hand in his as they headed for the playground. They arrived only two minutes after the boys, greeted by their plaintive cries for pushes on the swings.
Handing her the blanket he'd carried from the truck, he smiled. "Why don't you sit? I've got this round."
Thirty minutes and two purple popsicles later, all the boys flopped down on the blanket she'd spread on the grass at the edge of the playground. From there, they could keep a close eye on the boys if (when) they decided to dart back for another round.
"I haven't been honest with you," she confessed when they were finally alone. The boys had scampered off to investigate a puddle where two worms were floating—a safe, fifteen feet away. Far enough so they wouldn't be heard, but not so far she couldn't get to them if- She shivered. You're distracted enough. She didn't need to add Phil to the equation. "I—I wanted to tell you-"
"Before you start-" He reached for her hand. "Can I go first?"
Heart pounding, she nodded, wondering what would happen next. Maybe he'd tell her dinner had been fun, but, he was no longer interested. Here's where he tells you he's not into 'complicated'. "Okay."
"I'm Hank," he said conversationally. "I was married for nineteen years to my beautiful wife, Gayle." His voice low and intimate, he kept his gaze on her. Unwavering. "She passed away four years ago. Since then, I basically haven't looked at another woman." He hesitated. "Until I met you."
She startled, unsure what to expect. His clasp on her hand tightened.
"So, before you tell me anything, I'd like you to know that spending time with you and the boys has made me happy—and I haven't felt happy in four years." He shrugged. "I never expected I could feel that way again. So, you can tell me everything or you can tell me nothing. We're gonna take this slow," he acknowledged. "But, whatever you tell me won't change how much I like you." He nodded to the swing set where the boys had wandered. "And those incredible boys."
"I don't think you realize-"
"Not one thing," he said, ignoring her interruption. The warmth in his eyes sent goosebumps shivering over her skin. "Nothing you tell me will change that."
Heart pounding in her ears, Annie stared at him. How was it possible he was real? Yet, he sat there on a picnic blanket smiling at her . . . after possibly the worst dinner he could have ever experienced. She released a ragged breath. "O-okay."
His sexy smile was encouraging. "So, Annie . . . why don't you tell me about yourself?"
She dropped her gaze, afraid of what she would read in his eyes. "Not many men are interested in a woman who's been-"
Hank leaned back on his elbows, his gaze sharp, first on the boys, as he located them. Then returning to her. "Why don't you start at the beginning," he suggested gently.
Tears leaking from her eyes, she blinked them back. "I'm not sure how much I can get through."
"As much as you want," he reminded. "I'm honored if you wanted to confide in me." He pushed up to a sitting position.
"I want you to know all of it-" She shook her head. "Maybe not all," she corrected. "Because it's awful. But, I don't want you to think I don't trust you."
"Then, just tell me a little," he encouraged. When she glanced up, he smiled. "The boys are right there . . . first two swings."
Warmth flooding her chest, she smiled. "Thank you. I don't want to get distracted-"
"I know, love." He kept his gaze on the boys. "How long were you married?"
"Seven years," she began. "I was twenty-eight. My mother was married five times." She shook her head. "I was cocky—convinced I could do a better job than she had. That I would give my children a stable home life. With one father, instead of the revolving door I experienced growing up." Instead, she'd provided the definition of unstable. She'd delivered them into hell.
She paused to locate the boys, nervous about keeping them in sight. "In hindsight, I realized the qualities that should have been red flags . . . were things I made excuses for. I dismissed them as not that important—even though underneath, I knew I should have paid better attention."
"Based on what knowledge, sweet?" His quiet voice intruded on her restless thoughts. "You trusted a man to be decent."
"I-" She glanced up. "I should have known-"
His compassionate eyes suggested he disagreed. "So, what happened?"
"Before the boys, his abuse was . . . verbal. Focused on me." Her brain shifting to protective mode, Annie felt her emotions begin to shut down, like prison doors slamming behind the guard, each echo reverberating after the last. Getting through the story was difficult, but she'd learned through therapy how to tell it. "He would berate me. You know—how stupid I was. How I did everything wrong. How every problem he ever faced was my fault."
And then it had gotten worse. "The . . . beatings started when I was pregnant with Tommy." Her voice suddenly hoarse, she swallowed around the dryness. "I t-tried to leave then but, he threatened my mother."
"Annie-" His jaw clenched, his body seemed to bristle like a dog gone on sudden alert. "Baby—if this is too much . . . I can wait. I'm not going anywhere," he vowed. He threaded his fingers through hers, as though needing to reassure himself. Risking a glance at him, she found him laser-focused on her. His expression though, was blank. She tried to imagine someone telling her this story and realized her rock-steady, thoughtful hero was likely in shock. Unable to imagine treating someone that way.
She blew out a steadying breath. "Once I got pregnant with Jason, he basically had me where he wanted me." Her voice sharpened with anger. "Because then-" She forced her gaze away from the sadness in his. The depth of understanding she found there. "He could threaten to hurt the boys."
"What did he do?" His voice rigid, his gaze drifted to the playground, to the swell of laughter. To happy voices in the deepening shadows. Of loving parents. Happy families.
"He isolated me—not that I was terribly close to my mother," she admitted. "But, he used her. He used my friends . . . as weapons."
"What do you mean?"
She shrugged. "I won't hurt them . . . if you stop contacting them. Or—if I handed over my credit cards. Then, it was my phone."
A shudder rippled through him, his eyes bewildered. "Why would he want your credit cards?"
"Abusers gain power from things like controlling money, checking my phone constantly, calling it all the time to see where I was," she listed. "GPS trackers on my car-"
He huffed out a startled breath. "He followed you?"
"He had to know where I was . . . every minute of the day," she explained, unable to contain the shudder coursing through her. The breeze had picked up, making her skin prickle. "Which tends to make it hard to hold down a job when my phone would buzz thirty times a day." Hank shifted closer, strong arms pulling her against him. Annie welcomed his warmth. Embraced the comfort he offered. The completely foreign sense of rightness. Safety.
"Lots of women have it worse," she admitted. "Some abusers install keystroke counters on their computer," she said, her voice dispassionate. "I don't think Phil did that." The warning signs of abuse were ingrained in her now. There was little she could hear and be shocked.
"God, Annie." He swallowed reflexively, his jaw tight. "I hate this. I hate knowing what you've been through. How are you still so-" He glanced down at her. "How are you able to—trust me?"
His anguished whisper made her eyes burn with unshed tears. "You're the first man I've felt sure enough about to take a chance." She burrowed closer to him, grateful for his arms around her. The warmth he provided. "It's hard . . . reliving it."
They sat together, quiet for several moments. Annie shifted in his arms to search for the boys.
"Tommy's climbing the jungle gym," he whispered, pressing his lips to her temple. "And Jase is talking to that little blond kid by the swings."
She released a contented sigh, relieved to share her burden. Relieved that a man like Henry had walked into her life. No matter how long it lasted—it was nice. To share the boys with him. To share her worries. If only for a little while.
"He hasn't . . . bothered you at New Beginnings?" He broke the silence, questions still hovering thick in the air around them.
"He hasn't found me there." Yet. Annie tensed, acknowledging the end to a peaceful moment. There was still so much to confess. "I'm actually . . . a nurse."
His hand startled in hers. "You—you can't work as a nurse?"
"Not for the past two years," she admitted the failure, gaining strength in the fact that she was being truthful. "Each time I signed on with a new practice, Phil . . . would show up. Drunk. Angry. Making a scene-"
"They were afraid-" His voice raspy, he grazed her cheek. "Of what he might do—while he was going after you."
"I understand their reasons." Drenched in the understanding in his eyes, her voice grew stronger. "I've lost three nursing jobs in the past two years. So—I stopped looking. I was afraid I'd become unemployable." Her gaze slid away. "Word tends to get around."
"I can't fathom what you've had to endure. You are-" He hesitated. "You're incredibly brave, Annie." His encouraging voice urged her to confide in him.
"I wouldn't call it brave-" She released a ragged sigh. More like a huge failure.
He tipped her chin up. "Brave and strong," he insisted.
"Not so brave," she confessed. Most of the time she was terrified, awaiting the day Phil would return. When his abuse would start again. When she'd be forced to run—leaving everything behind once again. "Before I found the courage to leave, it had gotten to the point where I had to . . . trade."
"Jesus, Annie." His hand tightened convulsively around hers, Hank leveled his gaze at her. "Trade what?"
It wasn't working this time. Because she was feeling—all of it. Shame. Anger. Futility. It wasn't working—because she was telling the person she might . . . love. Someone she'd hoped would respect her. Until now. When he learned how she'd allowed herself to be treated.
It took every ounce of courage to meet his direct, kind, I'd-never-hurt-you gaze. "Beat me . . . instead of the boys."
Hank's breathing stilled, as though he were holding his breath. The space between them electrically charged with the current of his anger. "Please . . . tell me he's not still around." His voice had gone hoarse, yet she knew he was trying to be careful. Trying not to upset her. "Tell me he's not . . . still h-hurting you. That he doesn't have access to the boys-"
She willed herself to meet his gaze. "He doesn't want them. I doubt—he remembers their names," she admitted. "We've been divorced two years—apart for nearly three. "What you saw tonight at the restaurant is why I finally left. That's the residue . . . we all have," she admitted. "The boys are still afraid of him."
"You are, too." His quiet voice rang with conviction. "Why are you still afraid, Annie?"
She released a gusting sigh. Her gaze shifted, homing in on the boys. Tommy still on the monkey bars. Jason . . . drawing in the mulch with a stick. She scanned the area. No one skulking in the shadows. Every adult there, focused on their own child. Yet, her skin was prickling . . . as though-
Forcing herself to not look over her shoulder, she shook off the crazy notion. Her heart was in overdrive. Reliving the nightmare always reawakened it. But, it wasn't Phil upsetting her. It was the story. The telling of it. To a man like Henry—who could never imagine treating a woman as her ex had. "He . . . drinks. A lot."
"What happens then, sweet?" His deceivingly innocent question belied the glint of fury in his gaze.
"He . . . comes looking for us."