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“You’re here for a bigger reason, actually.”
Hobbs wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that meant, so he started to unload the grocery sacks. He spied a six-pack of chocolate pudding cups, the kind of stuff Mom used to buy when they were kids, and realized he was starving. She always did that when he and Victor came for the holidays, bought pudding and Twinkies and potato chips, all the junk food they medicated themselves with as children. They ate it, too, even though it tasted cheap and no longer fit their lifestyles. Craving food made no sense right now, but Hobbs didn’t care. He dug out a spoon, the one with flowers down the middle that Hannah had insisted on using for every meal when she was a little girl, and ripped the top off one of the puddings.
“Hannah started seeing this guy not long after Christmas last year,” Victor said, when he recognized Hobbs had chosen to eat instead of respond. “Right after you left. She met him at work, gave him a haircut. James Timbley.” Victor dragged his voice over the guy’s name. “She was head over heels for this fool. He acted real good, I’ll give him that. Came off real smooth and romantic. Did things Hannah wasn’t used to, like buy her flowers and take her nice places. But I knew something was off the moment I met him. He was too attentive. Too much in her space. Too muchtoo much. You know?”
“I’m getting the idea.” Hobbs ate the pudding cup in two bites and still felt hungry, though his stomach was starting to harden like a fist at Victor’s words.
“Even Mom didn’t like him. She thought he was too much of a kiss ass, all fake. But this was the first guy Hannah was serious about since Ryan, so we tried not to get in her face with our opinions. The longer she dated this guy, the more controlling he got. Hannah started missing stuff she’d never miss, like Mom’s birthday dinner. She got real quiet, didn’t smile much anymore. She had plans to move in with him. Then one morning she shows up with bruises, a black eye and a split lip.”
Hobbs had been sucking the rest of the pudding off his spoon. He dragged the utensil slowly from his mouth. This explained a lot of things, namely the mystery of why Hannah had gone radio silent on him. “And this guy, this James Timbley, is still alive?” He glanced briefly at Victor’s scarred fists. He had pale, silver skin on his knuckles and knotted ridges that ran up his wrists and forearms. Old wounds that had healed reluctantly.
“Trust me. I went over there. James and I had a...conversation.” Victor leveled his gaze into Hobbs’s. Hobbs had seen that look in his brother’s eyes only a few times before. That look, in the past, had been reserved for Pops. “Hannah freaked out and put a stop to myconversationwith James, but she listened to me and quit seeing him after that. We went to the police and there was a whole mess of ‘he said, she said,’ because apparently she hit him, too, even though it was in self-defense. Plus, she waited to go to the police, so there was that. But we eventually got a restraining order.”
Hobbs shook his head. “How? Just how does someone who grew up with an abusive father end up with a guy who hits her?” He shook his head again. “Don’t answer that.”
“Haven’t seen hide nor hair of him for a month, but we all want it to stay that way.”
“Smart,” Hobbs agreed. “But you’re playing Russian roulette. You know what abusers are like. He’s not going to stay away just because there’s a restraining order or because you can kick his ass. He’ll find a way. He’ll find a way to hurt her.” Hobbs’s words rushed out as he crushed the plastic pudding container in his fist. The sharp edges cut into his palm and the chocolate was sticky. “Dammit, Hannah.” He lowered his voice now, too. “She’s so trusting. So sweet by nature. You should have told me about this sooner.”
“I’m telling you now. This is when I need you.” Victor pushed off the counter and started putting the stuff that Hobbs had unloaded into the fridge.
“I’ll gladly kill the guy.” Hobbs deposited his broken cup into the trash and flipped on the faucet to wash his hands. “But you already tried that.”
“I don’t want you to go anywhere near James Timbley.”
Hobbs turned off the water and snagged the dish towel Mom had hanging on the door under the sink. It was covered in bluebirds. “What do you want me to do, then?”
Victor closed the fridge, then balled up the plastic bags. “Well, I sure as hell didn’t ask you out here to see that old fool die.” Victor tilted his head toward the living room. In the silence, Hobbs could hear Mom on the phone, telling whomever was on the other end of the line that her husband had passed away.
“You want me to talk to Hannah? She listens to me more than you. I’ll make sure she stays away from that guy. She’ll need to switch jobs. She knows that, right? She can’t go to familiar places.”
“I agree. Which is why I want you to take her back to Virginia.”
“You want me to what?” It felt like it came out of nowhere, when, really, Hobbs should’ve seen that coming.
“She’s not safe here.” Victor turned to face him. “There have already been signs he’s sniffing around. Hannah’s pretty sure she’s seen him following her in more than one place. You need to take her home, Chris. At least for the holidays. Maybe longer. Long enough to let Timbley know Hannah is out of his reach. You need to get her out of here.”
“Well, shit,” Hobbs said. “Why didn’t you just bring her out when you came?”
“She wouldn’t go. Only you can convince her. You know that.”
Yeah, he knew. So now Hobbs had traveled a thousand miles to watch his father die in a really eerie way and to learn that his baby sister was being stalked by an abusive ex.
Welcome home.
