**Note: Hello, sorry I haven't posted in some time. I was dealing with a breakup and I couldn't find it in myself to write about anything with romance. But it's all good now, and I am ready to write this story again! Hope you guys are still interested, because I don't like to leave stories unfinished. This may seem like a shorter chapter, but I promise you that Tim will return in the next one. I'm getting back in the groove, so it shouldn't be too long before Chapter 10 is posted. Keep in mind, there's no fluffiness in this one. The tone is quite heavy. But things will get even crazier in the next chapter.

Chapter 9

~9:05 PM~

A silence still lingered over the crowd in the stands five minutes after the referee made the call. They remained immobile as they all stood in the bleachers looking onto the field, down at the players, then up at the scoreboard. Everyone was in shock.

"But…" Henry uttered. It was the only sound in the stands, and caused Hannah to startle.

She wasn't looking at the scoreboard anymore. She'd realized that it wasn't some horrible mistake or a cruel joke. The team had lost. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Before she had time to say anything to her father, he was already making his way down the stairs. She watched him as he took two steps at a time, shoulders hunched over. He was in a hurry. No doubt to speak with his wife about tonight's events. Was she listening to the radio? Hannah thought. Or, maybe she was still sitting at home praying things had worked out.

Various fans began to take their leave, filing out of the sections in a much more organized manner than usual. No one had it in them to run down to the field, scream and throw their arms up in the air for high-fives. There was no reason to tonight.

Eventually, Hannah's section started shuffling between the bleachers, the thumping of their heavy feet filling the previous silence. They kept their heads down until they exited the field. Hannah followed Julie to the back entrance of the locker rooms where she prepared her pep talk for a very unhappy Matt.

Only a few players lingered around the double doors. Matt was one of them; he patted the shoulder of a freshman that hadn't even made it onto the field that night. He looked up towards Julie and excused himself. Moments later she had her arms wrapped around him and whispered something in his ear. Matt smiled in appreciation, but it didn't touch his eyes. He was disappointed, and it seemed as though he blamed himself for the loss.

"At least the party is still happening. I think everyone could use a pick-me-up. Right, Hannah?"

Hannah looked at Julie incredulously. "The party is still happening?"

"Well, yeah. Maybe not as a victory party, but something. Are you kidding me? They look for any excuse to drink."

"I'd say I could use one right about now." Matt smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed he'd made the comment. He knew Julie wasn't the biggest fan of drinking, and he wasn't earning any brownie points right now.

Lucky for him, all Julie did was roll her eyes, followed by a pleading look to her friend.

"Honestly guys, I think I should probably just go home," Hannah said. "There's a lot to deal with there. Sorry."

Julie and Matt lingered, hoping that Hannah might explain the situation in greater detail, but she was already heading towards the parking lot.

What they didn't know was that it was taking every fiber of her being to drag her feet across the lot. It wasn't long before Julie and Matt caught up with her; at the speed she was going, they'd make it to the party before Hannah even reached the car. With Julie catching a ride with Matt, it seemed like Hannah's only option was to follow. She didn't want to share a car with them. Not when she was like this. She wasn't in the mood for company, and she feared she might appear distant and rude.

But Hannah should have known better than to judge her friends so quickly. They understood her silence, and knew she was reluctant to face whatever family problems awaited her. They kept the radio on low, rolled the windows down, and kept to themselves. Hannah was relieved.

And when they pulled into her driveway, Julie offered one last time. "There's still time to come with us, you know. It's Friday night. We should hang out."

"I think I'd be a bit of a buzzkill, don't you think?" Hannah gave the two a half-hearted smiled and climbed out of the car.

She could see from the driveway that the lights weren't on near the front door. It was pitch-black.

"Are you sure someone's home?" Julie asked.

"Doesn't matter. I've got a key." Hannah jingled the keys in her hand and walked up the path to the door. When she noticed that Matt's car remained on the driveway, no doubt waiting to make sure she made it inside, Hannah waved them off.

And then she opened the door.

Hannah had to use her phone's flashlight to make her way through the entryway without tripping over any misplaced shoes or bags. It seemed like no one was home. But how could that be? She'd watched her father leave. And Laurie had planned on avoiding the game altogether.

"I'm back," she called. But there was no answer. "Dad? Laurie?"

Hannah tossed her backpack to the side and slid her hands on the wall until she reached a light switch.

"She left," said a voice from some dark corner of the house.

"Jesus," Hannah whispered, clutching her chest. "Where are you?"

Henry emerged from the top of the stairs into the light. He looked gaunt, and his clothes and hair were disheveled. Only one side of his shirt was tucked into his pants, and his tie lay undone around his neck. He would not look Hannah in the eyes.

"She left," he said again.

It took Hannah a moment to find her voice. "What?" she finally managed to say. "Well, where did she go?"

Her father finally turned his gaze toward her. His bottom lip quivered slightly. "Hannah."

That was all he said. And truthfully, he didn't need to say anymore. She understood. This was the ending Hannah had dreaded, and had somewhat expected. But she'd held on to hope that maybe it would be okay, that maybe there was still something here that was worth staying for-that somehow she would make up for her father's faults. But Laurie was gone.

"I don't understand why they always leave." Henry's voice cracked at the end, and he sat on one of the stairs, putting his head in his hands.

Unable to think of anything to say, Hannah simply slumped her body against the wall. It was a fair question in a way. Why couldn't anyone ever stay? Even her own mother couldn't seem to find a good enough reason to stick it out. Hannah had always hoped that she would be that reason. But she wasn't. That much was clear to her now.

"I never mean to cause problems, you know? I only ever try to make things better for us. To give us more. But no one ever appreciates that. No one thinks about the fact that I still try. They always focus on the outcome-not the road it took to get there."

Hannah looked up at her father. "What do you mean they?"

"What?" Henry said, grabbing ahold of the railing. He leaned his head against his arm and closed his eyes.

"You said they don't focus on the road to get there. Who is they?"

"You know, Laurie...your mother...women. They're never happy."

"Sorry, but I'm just not understanding something here. Laurie's upset because you bet money we don't have. What does Mom have to do with this?"

Henry didn't answer. He simply sighed and shook his head.

"Dad." It was like someone had turned a switch in Hannah's brain. Pieces of the puzzle that had never quite fit anywhere in the picture were finally coming together. Pieces that she'd held onto, hoping that someday she would finally understand why she'd been left behind.

"Dad," she said again, only louder this time. "Have you done this before?"

Nothing.

"Answer me!" she screamed. That familiar burning sensation began to build in her throat, the muscles tightening as she attempted to hold back tears.

"It's not that simple, Hannah. You wouldn't understand."

"Like hell I wouldn't understand. You tell me right now, Dad. Tell me what you did." She was crying now, there was no point in holding anything back.

"I tried to build a life for all of us. Do you know how difficult it is to start a family working twenty hours a week at a tire store? It's nearly impossible. And student loans on top of it." He shook his head again. "It's impossible, Hannah. I don't know what we were thinking."

"What are you even saying? You didn't go to college."

Henry turned to face his daughter, the light from the hallway only lighting up half of his face. "Your mother, Hannah. Your mother's loans."

"What did you do, Dad?" Hannah whispered, although she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know.

"The race tracks were only fifteen minutes from the apartment. And they were always open until ten. I got off work at six."

Race tracks? Hannah said to herself. She didn't dare interject. Not when he was finally telling the whole story.

"Your grandmother was an interesting woman," he said, shaking his head. "Refused to pay for your mom to go to school, but spent God only knows on that ridiculous tennis bracelet as a graduation gift. Made no sense. We were buried and all she thought to do was make Cherie look pretty on her way down to rock bottom.

"So, I took the initiative. That bracelet was always sitting on the dresser, doing nothing but collecting dust. I took it to the pawn shop and got a really good deal. And then I went to the track. I made $200 that night. Doesn't sound like a lot, but when you have a kitchen full of tuna cans and frozen orange juice, you feel like you've hit the jackpot. In my mind, that wasn't gambling money, that was money to buy formula and diapers, and whatever else you needed. So I went back the next night. Didn't end up spending that $200 on diapers, mind you, because I figured I could double that the next night. And you know what? I did."

Did this mean they had some secret piggy bank stashed away somewhere? A foreign bank account? Where were those always from? Switzerland, Hannah thought.

"Eventually I got it up to $2,400, Hannah. Twenty. Four. Hundred. Do you know how much that was to people like us?" It was here that Henry finally paused so that he could gauge his daughter's reaction to everything he's just said. But Hannah just stared at him with two wide, brown eyes. Her expression was unreadable.

"I'll admit there were times when I'd go to the track instead of work. That was difficult to keep from Cherie sometimes. I figured why tell her then? I'd do it when I had all this cash to show for it, and there wouldn't be an argument, not even a question to my methods. And it wasn't a bad thing, you know. I was making more money betting on horses than I ever did at that ridiculous minimum-wage job-if you can even call mopping the floor at a tire store a real job.

"Then, one night-I think it was a Tuesday. Must've have been, because your mom always watched The X-Files those weeknights. You remember that show? Anyway, that's not important. So, one Tuesday I leave work early and head to the tracks. And some guy tells me that this week it's double or nothing, and starting bets are more than I have. I need five grand to be a part of this. I think some fancy horse was brought in from upstate Connecticut. Purebred, sleek black coat, and one hell of a temper. But he was all business on the tracks. Clearly, he was worth the five thousand. So, I left and stopped at the bank, and then I...I…"

Hannah finally found her voice, if only a soft whisper. "You what, Dad?"

"I took out what little we had saved. I brought the five thousand to them-cash only. That was their policy to make sure you didn't stiff them. I watched in awe as that horse took off like lightning. I was going to make ten grand that night, and then I was going to go home and tell your mother, and the three of us were going to drop everything and go on vacation somewhere warm with palm trees and drinks by the pool. But then the jockey lost control of him. To this day I still don't know what set him off. All I know is, one minute he's in first place, and the next I see the jockey flying through the air and landing head-first. And I lost. I lost it all. And that night I had to go home and tell your mother what had happened. That she couldn't use the money to make payments toward her loan. That was the last day I saw her."

The hot, angry tears were falling fast from Hannah's eyes now. She felt the heat rise from her feet, up her shoulders, her neck, and burst out of her ears. She was stunned. But not enough to stay silent. Not now.

"It's your fault she left?"

"Now I wouldn't say that, Hannah. Your mother had a lot of issues."

"You gambled away all of our money! You gambled away your savings...you...you gambled away money for your child! How could you do that to us?" She could no longer keep her composure. She was screaming now, her hands were balled into tight fists. She could feel her fingernails dig into her palms.

"I know I made a mistake, Hannah, but this wasn't entirely on me. I promise you that," Henry shouted back.

"Really? Then whose fault was it, huh? I don't recall anyone else fucking up in that story."

"You watch your mouth. It's not as simple as that. You couldn't even begin to understand."

"You told me she left us. You made it seem like it was all on her, on her selfishness. But it was you all along. You pushed her away. You made her leave!"

"Is that what you think? Look around, Hannah. She didn't just leave me. And I'm pretty sure a bet on a bad horse wasn't the cause for that."

Hannah caught her breath and backed away against the wall. "What are you saying?"

" I told you this story so you could understand what Laurie did. You forget that despite my mistake, I'm the one who's raised you. Not her. I took action to try to help us. She didn't want any of this, Hannah. She didn't want you. You were a burden for her, and that's all."

That one stung. There was nothing left to say-he'd said it all. A burden. That's all she was. And Laurie was feeling the same now.

Hannah stood up straight and walked toward her shoes by the front door. She began untying them and slipping them on as fast as she could.

"What are you doing?" Henry asked?

Hannah didn't answer. Once she'd managed to put her shoes on through blurry, tear-stricken eyes, she grabbed her keys off the table and reached for the door.

"Where do you think you're going? Hey, I'm talking to you. Hannah!"

She didn't turn around. She just grabbed ahold of the handle, turned it, and said, "go fuck yourself." Her words were like daggers, piercing through him. She had turned cold and emotionless. And then, just like that, she was out the door.