Page 29 of Worth the Risk
After waiting about ten minutes, I head to the garage and get in my car. I hope she’s long gone and already in the Sports Facility Zone parking lot so I can relax. But suddenly, she stands in front of my car with a worried expression on her face.
I jump out of my SUV immediately.
“What happened? Are you okay?” I blurt out, walking quickly to her and reflexively grabbing her face between my hands.
“Umm, I think someone slashed my tires,” she whispers. My heart drops. Holy shit, someone slashed her tires?
“Show me,” I tell her, as I lock my car and grab her hand, pulling her in the direction where I know her car is. Yeah, I know. A little bit stalkerish, but I needed to know where she might be so I avoided the area. All tenants have assigned parking spots. I never paid attention to where Caroline parked, but now I know. I know everything when it relates to Hannah.
Hannah’s hand is shaking in mine as we approach her car. She has a small sedan that would probably be fine in Georgia, but it’s not meant for Colorado winters. I make a mental note to price out SUV’s for her, then realize how fucking ridiculous that sounds. We aren’t together. I can’t buy her a car. Can I? Wait. No. No, I can’t buy her a car. Fuck.
“Okay, baby, we need to call the police. And the building security. They have cameras in the garage. They probably caught something, okay?” I say to her. I catch how she winces when I call her baby. “Shit, I’m sorry. I can’t say that anymore. I’m sorry, Hannah.”
“I know,” she whispers brokenly. “Can you call my uncle, too?”
I wince, having forgotten about her relationship to my coach.
“I can call him. Why don’t you go back into the lobby and ask security to come out here? I’ll call Coach while you’re gone,” I tell her. As she walks away … and yes, I watched her ass … I pull up Coach Davenport’s number. I take a deep breath as the phone rings, almost willing it to go to voicemail.
“Santo.”
Fuck.
“Coach Davenport, um, I have a weird situation here,” I begin, and he cuts me off.
“What. Did. You. Do.”
Jesus. They just assume I’ve done something wrong.
“I didn’t do anything. Um, you know I live in the same complex as your sister, right?” I say.
“Uhh, yeah …”
“Well, I live in the apartment next to her …” I trail off, trying to formulate my words correctly.
“Shit. Hannah.”
“Yeah, so Hannah …”
“What happened? Is she okay?”
“Yeah, she’s fine, but …”
“Did you do something to her?
“Jesus, no! Why would you automatically think that?”
“Because it’s you, Santo, and you’ve always been trouble.”
“Fuck, man, I didn’t do anything to her.”
“Well, are you gonna tell me what the fuck happened?
“Stop interrupting me and I’ll get to it!” At this point, I’m literally yelling at him. I’m so fucking pissed. My fist is clenched, my fingernails digging into my palm, as I pace in front of Hannah’s car. This asshole has some nerve being all judgmental when I’m helping his niece right now.
“Fine.”
“I was on my way to the Sports Facility Zone and she appeared in front of my car in the building garage. She told me all four of her tires were slashed,” I blurt out.