Page 9 of Becoming Family

“Come eat something.” Clementine was by her side, arm around her shoulders. “Hey, Hobbs.” She waved at him and shoved an entire meatball in her mouth. It stuffed her slender cheek so full she looked like a hamster.

As Hobbs waved back, Tabitha felt herself being edged toward the buffet. A minute later she had a plate of veggies and cheese and crackers in her hands.

“Eat that. And be careful how much tequila you shoot with Hobbs.”

Tabitha did as she was told, and her brain calmed down. She knew Clementine mothered everyone on autopilot, but she couldn’t help but feel a little dejected. Hobbs had melted into the party and now Tabitha was alone again, all tequila-ed up and nowhere to go. Normally she liked being alone, but an odd sort of emptiness hollowed her out, despite the warmth from the liquor.

The games soon started, and Tabitha watched the festivities unfold. There were kids hitting a piñata—like they needed more candy—and musical chairs with medicine balls as seats. Delaney won by sheer force, knocking into Duke and taking him to the ground, one leg outstretched to keep a foot on the med ball like Jean-Claude Van Damme doing the splits between two chairs. Tabitha didn’t last the first round, politely giving up her ball to a teenager who got there at the same time. There was a costume parade, with an infant dressed up like Baby Yoda taking the blue ribbon. Tabitha watched it all from the periphery, like a moat around a castle, inactive and gloomy.

Around nine, the crowd began to thin, the food got picked over, grew cold and limp, the kids grew tired. Somebody’s date—a muscled guy Tabitha hadn’t seen before tonight—lingered near the booze table. Tabitha had watched him throw back shots all evening, sneaking drinks when he thought his girl wasn’t looking. Carrie, a regular who brought a new boyfriend to the gym every month, was trying to get the guy to stop drinking while also not making a scene. The guy was getting more and more physical in his attempts to shove Carrie away. Everyone else was involved in their own business—herding their children, talking in groups—but Tabitha’s radar was on full alert. She scanned the room until she caught sight of Hobbs. Serena was trying to flirt with him, but he, too, was watching the scene unfold. Their gazes connected. Hobbs nodded, as though he read her mind, then reached over and tapped Rhett on the shoulder. Hobbs pointed in the direction of the couple, just as voices began to rise between the squabbling pair. Rhett immediately jogged over to intervene.

Tabitha swiped at her brow in dramatic relief. Hobbs smiled, but his attention was quickly diverted back to Serena, who would not be ignored.

Tabitha sighed, ready for this night to be over. She collected Trinity and took her outside to do her business before she went to find Clementine for a ride back to her car. The tequila was all the way through her and she’d have no problem driving home. She really didn’t know why she’d carpooled in the first place, other than it had made her feel like she was part of everyone else’s “normal.”

Tabitha crossed the street to where Greenview Park butted up to the road. The park was where they all ran for any distance over eight hundred meters. It was also where a bunch of kids had shot off fireworks last July and sent Tabitha into a panic attack on the gym floor. She had little memory of it, only the weight of Trinity across her chest and the squeeze of Hobbs’s hand covering her own when she blinked her eyes open.

A twig crunched behind her and Tabitha spun around, the pulse in her neck going crazy.

“It’s okay, Tabby.” Hobbs was there, slipping a leash on Humphrey, who had apparently followed Trinity outside. The old beagle tilted his muzzle in the air, sniffing, his cataracts shining in the dim light of a distant streetlamp. “Rhett’s so busy cleaning up he didn’t even notice his dog left the building.” Hobbs rolled his eyes. He’d shed most of his costume, and now just looked like a muscular guy in jeans and a flannel shirt. Though it was cold, he had his sleeves rolled up, neck unbuttoned. He looked thick, warm and inviting. “You okay?”

“Um. Yeah.” Tabitha realized she was just stupidly standing there, staring. Trinity had finished her business and now trotted over to Humphrey. She wanted to sniff his ears, but Humphrey had other ideas, trying to get around to her backside.

“Dirty old man,” Hobbs said. He turned back to Tabitha, his humor fading a little. “Good catch back there. With Carrie and her shit-faced date. Things were about to get ugly.”

Tabitha tried to shrug it off, even though she felt a rush of pleasure at the compliment. “Old habits die hard. I was Religious Affairs in the navy. Hypervigilance was necessary in Afghanistan. Protect the chaplain.”

“I knew you were a secret badass.”

Tabitha waved that off. “You spotted trouble, too.”

“I, uh—” Hobbs smiled uncomfortably “—learned early on in life to read the room or suffer the consequences.” Hobbs’s eyes narrowed. “You sure you’re all right?” He looked toward the woods, like he might be remembering the incident with the fireworks, too.

“Yeah.” The word came a little too quick. “I just—” she shrugged “—feel a little...in between.” Made no sense, but Tabitha didn’t know how to explain it any better. She wasn’t a kid anymore. But she wasn’t accomplished enough to say she felt mature, either. She had a light service record, no romantic relationship, no kids, not even a job she was good at. She thought about Hobbs’s question, after they’d shot the second tequila. “Remember when you asked me if it felt good to let go?”

“Sure.”

“I was thinking that letting go implies I’ve been hanging on,” she said. “If I’m hanging on, I’m either trying to stay in place, like clinging to a tree during a hurricane, or trying to go somewhere, like grabbing on to the tail of a kite to hitch a ride. Both are hanging on, but are completely different kinds of hanging on. Letting go in each scenario would mean something different. So I was wondering which way you meant it.”

Humor crinkled Hobbs’s eyes and a laugh escaped him so quickly it sounded almost like a cough. “Jeez, Tabby,” he said. “I was only telling you to have a little fun. There was no deep meaning.”

The steady thump of party music that rang out from the gym slowed down, ceding to a warm, sweet ’80s tune that was most definitely not the Halloween station on Pandora. Somebody had changed the channel to do a slow dance. Tabitha’s money was on Sunny.

“I meant have a little tequila,” Hobbs explained. “Or—” he dropped Humphrey’s leash and took her by the wrist “—have a slow dance or two.” Hobbs gave a little tug and drew her in.

Tabitha swayed on her feet she was so surprised. Hobbs’s free arm slid around her waist and steadied her. All the tequila had left her system long ago, but her head was suddenly swimming again. Hobbs’s flannel shirt was soft, and up close he smelled like he’d dressed for the party directly after taking a warm, soapy shower.

“When I said let go,” Hobbs continued, his voice softer, closer to Tabitha’s ear as he pulled her even tighter against him, “I meant enjoy your birthday. Stop worrying so much. Have a drink. Have a dance.” After a moment of quiet dancing, Tabitha’s heart beating too hard in her ears for her to do anything but follow Hobbs’s lead, he added, “Have a kiss.”

“A kiss?” That hot-cold sensation raced down her spine. Tabitha turned her face up. Hobbs wasn’t supertall like Rhett, but he was just tallenough. Hobbs was watching her, a sparkle in his warm eyes. She searched them for a sign that he’d continued to drink tequila long after the last shot they’d shared.

“Sure, everyone should get a kiss on their birthday.”

Words started and stopped in Tabitha’s throat. Yeah, he’d had a few more tequilas, but he was only happy with the liquor, not swimming in it. She tried to decide if she cared. She imagined herself saying something witty and sexy, likeAre you volunteering?But, in typical Tabitha fashion, nothing came out. Her body stiffened against Hobbs’s firm chest and quads, which she could feel beneath the flimsy gingham dress.

Hobbs’s dancing slowed. “I didn’t mean from me, of course.”

Was he backpedaling? Or clarifying? “It’s either you or my Auntie El,” Tabitha blurted.

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