Hook, Line, and Sinker (Bellinger Sisters)

Christ. Who am I anymore?

He was trying to come up with a way to get Hannah into bed so they could have an entirely platonic sleepover. Did he even own a dick anymore?

She’d probably be dreaming of another man the entire time.

Counting the minutes until she went back to LA.

Fox handed the card to his mother, realizing he’d nearly mangled the damn thing in his fist.

“Thank you, Fox,” Charlene sang, leaning forward to cover the microphone. “You serious about that girl, son?”

He was caught off guard by the question. Probably because he’d never spoken to his mother about girls before. Not since he’d turned fourteen and she’d made him watch an online tutorial on how to apply a condom. After which she’d put an empty coffee can in the pantry and kept it full of singles and fives at all times. She’d told him it was there, pointedly, without explaining the exact purpose. But he’d known she was supplying him with condom money. Before he’d ever had sex, she’d predicted his behavior.

Or maybe he’d behaved a certain way because it had been expected.

Fox had never really considered that possibility. But over the course of the last week, there’d been a sense of emerging from a fog. Looking around and wondering how the hell he’d gotten to that exact spot. Empty hookups, no responsibilities, no roots digging into the earth. Had he been living this way too long to consider stopping?

You have stopped, idiot.

Temporarily.

Right.

With his mother’s question still hanging in the air, Fox glanced back at Hannah. God, every cell in his body rebelled at the idea of meeting another woman—not Hannah—in Seattle. But he’d tried to escape himself before and it blew up in his fucking face. It left scars and taught him a painful lesson about the impression he gave people simply by existing. And he wasn’t going to try it again, was he? For this girl who could decimate him by choosing someone else? In a sense, she had chosen someone else already.

“No,” he finally answered his mother, sounding choked. “No, we’re friends. That’s it.” He flashed her a grin that almost hurt. “You know how I am.”

“I know you came home from school every day since freshman year smelling like Bath and Body Works.” She chuckled. “Well, be careful with her, will you? There’s something about her. Almost like she’s protective of you even though she barely reaches your chin.”

He caught the urge to tell Charlene that, yeah, that’s exactly how she made him feel. Protected. Wanted. For reasons he couldn’t have fathomed before meeting her. She liked him. Liked spending time with him.

“I’ll be careful with her.” His voice almost shook. “Of course I will.”

“Good.” She switched hands covering the microphone so she could reach up and cradle the side of his face. “My darling heartbreaker.”

“I’ve never broken anyone’s heart.”

That was true. He’d never been close enough to anyone for that to be a possibility. Not even Melinda. He might have given his college girlfriend more of himself than anyone who came before, but they’d been nowhere near as close as Fox and Hannah.

Did he want to get even closer to Hannah?

If Sergei was out of the picture, what would closer look like?

A relationship? Hannah moving to Westport? Him moving to LA? What?

It all sounded completely ridiculous in the context of Fox’s life.

“And, Jesus, I’m not going to start now,” he added, shooting his mother a wink. “You want me to drop the blender off to Eleanor?”

Her smile dimmed slowly. “Are you sure?”

“I think I can handle it.”

Charlene hesitated slightly before hefting up the small appliance, clearance sticker still attached to one side, handing it to her son. Fox stepped down off the stage and made his way back to the table. Everyone turned to watch him go by—or look at the blender, rather—like vipers in the grass. He set it down in front of Eleanor, pretending he didn’t notice the tension at the table. Maybe if he ignored it, they would follow his lead.

Wishful thinking.

As soon as he set the blender down in front of Eleanor, Paula pounced.

Her bony fingers dug into the top of the box, but Eleanor was no rookie. She’d anticipated the move and started stabbing at Paula’s hands with her blotter, leaving blue marks on the woman’s skin. A hubbub ensued, bingo players shuffling around to get a better look at the action. Confident he could defuse the stressful situation—he was a king crab fisherman, after all—Fox inserted himself in between the women, giving them his best smile, in turn.

“Ladies. Let’s end the night friends, huh? Let me get you both a soda from the snack bar and—”

Eleanor swung the blotter and got him right in the center of the forehead.

Hannah gasped, her hands flying up to cover her mouth.

And then her shoulders started to shake.