(FINALLY) WE'RE BACK

[ 22. Way Too Good At Goodbyes ]

"No, Vincent, I'm not going to kill you."

The words were reverberating between the walls of my brain. Hayes hadn't stopped driving for the last twenty minutes or so. It was almost as if I were shocked silent, not speaking in fear of jinxing it. I was going to live, but still my mind begged the question of where the hell we were going.

My hands trembled in my lap. I'd accepted that I was going to die this week, so to suddenly be handed my life back was unexpected. And what did this mean for Hayes? This was his job, he had a duty to fulfill my death sentence for his client to receive all of that money. I couldn't help but fear what would happen if he reported that I'd gotten away, or that he changed his mind. Would his life be on the line, too? What was I doing? This didn't matter! I was granted a second chance. Whatever happened to Hayes wasn't my problem.

But... would I ever see him again?

"Where are we going?" I asked, clearing my throat after when the words came out gargled.

"Train station," he replied quickly. "In case you're wondering, the finger is for proof. Of your death, I mean. My boss deals with the clients and they don't like to see the bodies, so we send a finger for proof. They can check the prints if they want."

I looked down at my hand. Blood had seeped through the bandages and the metallic odor of it kept wafting up to my nose every so often. It was numb at this point, but that could have been my body trying to distract me from the fact that it was really gone. Excruciating pain could only go so far until it's manageable.

We weren't driving for much longer. He parked outside of the train station and pulled out his keys. With the engine cut off, the silence was deafening, only further echoing the ringing in my ears. I bunched the fabric of my—Hayes's—sweatpants in my good hand and dared to look over at him. He was already looking back, his jaw screwed tight and his chest rising and falling.

"Why did you change your mind?" I asked in a whisper, catching those brown eyes in dangerous curiosity. When he didn't answer right away, I got ahead of myself and asked, "Will you be okay?"

His gaze turned to the windshield. "I'll be fine," he said, but I wasn't sure I believed him. "You're a good person. I could tell the moment I actually spoke with you that you weren't the man they made you seem like in the hit report, but still... I had a job to do. I tried to ignore you when you talk about the people you helped or your friends, but the more I got to know you—"

I watched him swallow harshly and turn his gaze back to me. "Don't tell me you fell in love with me," I teased, unable to stop myself.

The look in his eyes was enough for my small smile to falter, appearing like some mix of apprehension and guilt. My fingers twitched, feeling the urge to reach out and touch him. Could it be that something else happened in this fucked up situation other than a deadly game of catch and return? Realistically, it shouldn't be possible to catch feelings like... love. Hayes sighed, reaching up to push his hair back from his forehead.

"I don't know," he muttered, more honest than I was expecting him to be. "I can't just fuck someone and not feel anything afterward. You... you got under my skin, Vinnie."

Despite the extreme effect his words had on my ego, I felt like crying. I was fully capable of putting boundaries in place and steering in the direction of detachment about people I hooked up with, but I generally didn't get to know them like I did Hayes. He was a father, albeit not a great one in my eyes, a birdwatcher, and a DIYer. He didn't like to cook, he kept his house as clean as a magazine cover, and he was from Tennessee. Maybe what I knew of him was minimal, but it was enough to understand how he was feeling.

There was something between us. It was fucked up and ass-backwards. But it was there.

"I have your wallet and keys. If you turn around and go home, I can't stop you, but I can promise you that if my client catches wind of you walking around the Bronx, alive and well, we're both dead. For real."

"What are the chances I can charm the pants off of another bounty hunter like I did with you?" I asked and he actually smiled, shaking his head as he pulled my wallet out from the center console.

"Pretty slim, if I had to guess."

We sat there for another minute or two in quiet. I wasn't sure if this was the part where I jumped out of the car screaming, 'Seeya, sucker!' and not looking back. It didn't feel adequate. Hayes was clearly torn about this decision and I was having trouble reaching for the door handle.

I bit down on my bottom lip and reached over, placing my hand on his leg. "You could come with me, you know. We could start over in Nebraska or something," I said.

Our eyes met and he frowned. "I've got too many loose ends to tie up here, but... you know, once everything rolls over, in a few years or whatever, you could call me," he said, leaving the words open ended. Like they were just another loose end of his. "I'm telling my boss this was my last job. I can't stomach it anymore, not after you."

His words sent a swirly feeling through my stomach. I didn't do well in serious situations, nor serious conversations. So I tried to lighten the mood once more. "What do I do now? Change my name and start stealing jewels in Nebraska by myself?"

He wouldn't even humor my bad jokes. Hayes somehow looked even more forlorn. "No, Vinnie, what the fuck? You're going to get the fuck out of New York; take the train as far away as you think you can with your hand like that. Then, keep your head down, find a shitty job, and stay out of trouble," he said, using what I thought would be his dad-voice. I furrowed my eyebrows and stared at him. "I don't want this to be for nothing. You deserved a second chance, that's why I changed my mind about you. So take this as a fucking lesson to stop risking your life for other people."

I scoffed. "Then I've got a life lesson for you, too."

Hayes looked taken aback. "What?"

"I grew up without a dad. Or a mom, for that matter—whatever. The point is, I'm probably as fucked up as I am because my parents didn't even try. I saw the way you act around your kid and, if you're serious about quitting this gig, then maybe you should use this opportunity to get closer with him," I said, unable to stop the words from rolling off my tongue. He looked perplexed and a little frustrated. "I know it's not my place, but if his mom really doesn't give a shit, then step the fuck up, dude. Be there for him. Because he seemed like a good kid and you don't know how lucky you are to have each other."

He sat on that for just a few seconds, fiddling with his fingers in his lap. "You're right," he finally said after I thought about what a shitty thing that was to say to someone who just saved my life. I nodded in response. "Before you go, I have something else for you."

I watched as he reached under his seat and pulled out a paper lunch bag. When he handed it to me, I peered inside. Instantly, I folded it up and shoved it back. "I'm not taking that," I said, eyes wide. In the bag was a thick stack of cash, seemingly all big bills.

"Take it. It's about half of what I'll get once I turn your finger in. I'll owe you the rest later," he said and thrusted it back into my hands. "Like I said. Get the hell out of here and start over. That's more than enough to get you somewhere safe with a roof over your head for a little while. It doesn't feel right keeping all of that money when it was your life for sale."

Shaking my head, I looked back down at the stack of money. He may have thought that, but I had my own reasons not to accept it. Other than my distaste for owing anybody anything, he was the one with the kid to look after. He was about to quit his job and start over, too. I'd give up every penny if it meant he was using it to look after Jake. Not to mention, this was dirty money. I didn't want anything else to do with it especially since it was my bounty reward.

"Fine," I grumbled, balling it up and stuffing it in my pocket. "Should we... hug?"

Hayes looked like he was actually thinking about it. After a moment of just intensely staring at me, he took a deep breath. "Better yet—" he said before he hooked a hand around the back of my neck and kissed me.

Having not been prepared for it, I had to catch myself on the center console. However, as soon as my eyes closed, I melted into the kiss like butter on a hotcake, fisting the front of his shirt with my good hand. His lips were soft, his chin was stubbly, and he tasted like peppermint. The kiss was so long overdue, it felt like we were trying to make up for lost kisses, our tongues barely getting to know each other for the first time before we had to pull away.

Our erratic breathing filled the car and maybe even fogged up the windows.

He very well may have pushed me off of him when he sat up straight and made a point of unlocking the doors. I cleared my throat, got my shit together, and followed suit. I pushed open the door, but lingered on my feet instead of closing it behind me. Hayes was looking at me like he was dying to stop me, but he didn't.

"Bye, Vinnie."

"...Bye, Hayes."

I shut the door and he was gone behind the tinted windows. Standing up straight, I turned on my heel and started walking. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and watched my breath appear before me with my sigh. Looking back at the Camaro one last time, I felt a sense of deja vu: looking over my shoulder at the man who was soon to change my life, and then again after the fact.

This was good. I was alive.

I wasn't going to die.

My entire being was back to being a possibility, yet I felt so dissatisfied. The first time I start to feel something for someone, they tried to kill me, then changed their mind and paid me an eighth of a million dollars to get as far away from him as I could. It was kind of on track with the rest of my life, but still. Why did I feel so empty?

I had to figure out a plan. One that involved doing everything Hayes told me, and then some. Hayes had it all calculated, but there was the biggest wrench thrown into his step-by-step tutorial on how to fake my own death. I had to forget about him. That was the only way to stop me from turning around and parking my ass back in that passenger's seat and telling him to hit the gas. He may have been doing me the biggest solid of my life, but unknowingly, he may have very well ruined me, too.

The bounty hunter spared my life, but took my heart instead.