Hetch (Men OF S.W.A.T #1)(76)
“What’s going on with you? You’re not yourself. How’s Hetch doing?” The question seizes my heart, his name like a death grip, squeezing it tightly to remind me how much he owns it.
“He’s good,” I lie, not wanting her to know I haven’t seen or spoken to him in three weeks.
Twenty-one days since I woke up alone in my bed.
Five hundred and four hours of not knowing how he is.
Thirty thousand something minutes spent wondering if he’s ever coming back.
And almost two million seconds thinking he won’t.
Three weeks is a long time when someone you love ignores you.
“Why don’t I believe you?” Payton’s question douses my stalkerish countdown.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you believe me?” I challenge, forcing a light tone.
You can do it, Liberty. Don’t crack now.
“Because you’re sitting there with the same look as you had when you were nineteen and Bobby Tannersville dumped your ass back in college.”
“I am not.” I scoff with a grin because she’s right. But Bobby Tannersville was a grade A * who didn’t deserve my tears. Hetch does.
“Lib.” She reaches across the table and covers my hand with hers. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”
“I know, I promise I’m fine. I’m just so busy with work is all.” I return her hand squeeze with my own and pull out of her grasp.
I don’t know why I haven’t told anyone Hetch and I are in limbo. Maybe I’m holding onto some kind of false hope that he’s going to sort his shit out, and everything will go back to the way things were.
Or maybe I’m not ready to say good-bye yet.
“Enough about me, how about you? How’s everything with Jett?” I’ve been so lost in my own drama the last few weeks. I don’t even know what’s going on with my own brother.
“He’s moving in with her.”
“Are you f*cking kidding me?” The news is like a shock paddle to my depressing life, jolting me into feeling something other than self-pity.
The stupid motherf*cker.
“Yeah, he came around the other day to collect the rest of his stuff. Told me all about it.” Her voice is a mixture of pain and disgust, and for a second, I think she’s going to break right here in the coffee shop. Until her chin juts out and her shoulders square, keeping herself in check.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Pay. I’m embarrassed he’s blood-related to me.”
“Don’t say that. God, your mom would have a freak-out.”
“My mom would be equally embarrassed,” I counter. Knowing it might be a stretch, but I would put money on it that she’s probably had the thought once at the very least. “In all seriousness, Pay, you know we don’t support anything he is doing.”
“I do. And I promise I’m okay. I’m just so over it now. You were right. I need to move on.”
“I hate I was right.” This time, it’s me who reaches across the table and gently covers her hand with mine.
“I know, but at least I know now, right? I mean, yeah I really thought we were going to make it this time. I mean hell, we were talking about having another baby.” She shakes her head and stops herself from saying any more. “Anyway, what’s done is done. Time to focus on Arabella and me. We need to get right with our lives now.”
“How is Arabella taking everything?” I miss the little cutie. Having her smiling face around would have been too much for me, so I’ve been keeping myself busy with the boys at Haven.
“Oh, well, that’s the one good thing about it. She’s not upset. I think maybe a little confused, but honestly, she’s more concerned when Hetch is coming around again so he can watch another movie with her. She hasn’t stopped asking about him.” My throat restricts at his name and my previous calm exterior cracks under the pressure of keeping this fa?ade going.
“Liberty?” Payton picks up on my change in demeanor, scooting closer toward me. “Hey, what is it?” I think she asks, but I can’t be sure over the start of my breakdown.
“Iliedthingswithusarenotokayeverythingisamessandidon’tknowwhattodo.” I manage to sob all of it out in one long breath, before dropping my head into my hands.
“Okay, you’re going to have to try that again, I can’t understand crying Lib.” I snort through my tears at that one. And take the moment to gather myself before trying again.
“I lied,” I tell her once I’ve calmed down enough to talk. My eyes do a quick sweep of our area and realize we don’t have an audience.
“I gathered. Now, what exactly did you lie about?”
“Hetch and I haven’t spoken in three weeks.” Saying the words aloud brings on another round of tears. Payton reaches into her bag then hands me a tissue when she catches me using my sleeve to dry up my tears.
“Okay…?” She prompts for more.
“Things have been messy. He’s dealing with some serious issues Pay, and I don’t know what to do.”
“What sort of issues? What are we talking about here?” She pulls out anther tissue when the tears won’t stop.
“His dad shot himself three years ago.”
“Fuck,” she softly curses. The word pretty much sums it all up for us.