But she didn’t want to think about any of that right now. She didn’t want to be the mental health patient with problems beyond her control. She wanted to be the host of Living with Hope—calm and controlled, the woman with all the answers.
chapter thirty-five
The week flew by, and by Friday Hope was fully into the swing of her new job. Diana and Darren seemed very pleased with her start. The other folks at the station had welcomed her back, and the listeners seemed to have taken to her program. Tonight there’d been call after call—no dead air to fill at all.
She made the long drive home, yawning every few minutes and working to stay awake. Not so much because she wasn’t well-rested, but because of that darn medication. At least the nausea was gone now.
She was sleepy as she pulled up to the darkened house. She hadn’t expected Brady to still be up. But when she reached the stoop, he opened the door and pulled her into a hug before she could drop her duffel bag on the floor.
“I missed you,” he said against her temple, his voice as thick as honey.
Ah, it was so good to be missed. “I missed you too.”
Good to be in his arms again also. She inhaled the familiar scent of him and dropped her bag so she could get both arms around him. Talking on the phone just wasn’t the same as being with him.
He put the exclamation mark on that thought as he drew her into a kiss that quickly deepened. Their hands grew urgent in a matter of seconds, seeking skin, grappling for buttons. A minute later he was carrying her up the stairs where she would show him just how much she’d missed him.
The nightmare returned in the middle of the night. This time Brady collapsed in his garage and a crowd gathered to witness the horrific event. April blocked Hope’s path to him, while her friend Brianna nodded sympathetically and told her the medication would kick in soon. So bizarre. Yet so real.
At least she hadn’t awakened her husband. Her heartbeats shook her until she worried the movement alone would awaken him. She lay there for hours afterward, afraid to close her eyes again.
Finally she slipped out of their warm bed and checked on Sam. He was sleeping peacefully on his back, his arms angled at his sides like field goalposts, his hands curled into fists.
The next morning she still felt a little off, and Brady noticed. She waved away his concern. But as she stood on the deck while he grilled hamburgers that evening, the panic returned. It flooded over her like a tsunami, threatening to take her under.
“Be right back,” she said, slipping into the house and heading to the bathroom in case he came after her. It took five endless minutes for the attack to subside. And by the time it did, her forehead was covered with a sheen of perspiration, and her optimism had faded like the waning daylight.
“Hope,” Brady called from the other side of the door. “The burgers are ready.”
She swallowed down the last of the panic. “Be right there.”
She dabbed her forehead and the back of her neck with a cool washcloth. Shook off the vestiges of fear and gently smacked some blood back into her pale cheeks.
“Get it together,” she whispered to her reflection in the mirror.
If Brady noticed anything amiss when she rejoined him and Sam on the patio, he said nothing. And when they turned in that night, she went into his arms as if nothing had changed.
But deep inside she knew it had.
Brady talked her into staying until Monday morning. There would be time enough to make the drive and arrive to work on schedule. Hope hated the thought of another sleepless night and more potential panic attacks, but she couldn’t think of a good reason to say no.
After church, Brady went home with his dad, who was having issues with his Mercedes. Hope grabbed a quick lunch, then strapped Sammy into his car seat and took him to the park to wait until Brady needed to be picked up.
She gave Sam a gentle push on the swing. He was getting sleepy—it was time for his nap. Hope smothered a yawn of her own. She’d only slept a few hours last night. She’d have to take a nap today. As long as she didn’t get into deep sleep she’d be fine.
A few minutes later a text came in from Brady. Hope collected a sleepy Sammy from the baby swing and smiled as he went limp against her.
“Is my baby tuckered out?” She pressed a kiss to his temple, breathing in his wonderful baby scent. He didn’t even complain as she put him in his car seat.
It was a fifteen-minute drive to Mr. Collins’s house. He lived in the country in a beautiful ranch house, surrounded by rolling green hills and a white split-rail fence.
She was glad Brady had gotten to spend some time with him. They got along just fine, though their relationship was a little superficial. Zoe would’ve been thrilled with that much effort from their father, but Mr. Collins had always been harder on her than he was on Brady. No doubt his expectations were higher for his “real” child.
The highway stretched before her, long and straight, past flat farmland and long, gravel driveways. A semi whooshed past, going the other direction, shaking her little Civic with its force. She yawned, already looking forward to that afternoon nap. In the back seat Sam’s eyes had drifted shut, getting an early start on his own nap. She hoped she’d be able to get him to his crib without waking him.
Relaxing into the seat, her eyes fixed on a distant mountain and began drifting shut. She gave a few hard blinks and flipped on the radio. The oldies station was playing a little REO Speedwagon. At the top of the hour they cut to the station ID, then segued straight into the news.
She’d hardly even seen Zoe this weekend, just at church. It seemed Brady had wanted to keep Hope to himself, and she couldn’t help but like that notion. It was obvious he’d missed her. Her mind went back to the night before. And the night before that. She pushed aside all her troubles and just remembered the way he’d looked at her. The way he’d touched her. So sweet. So reverent . . .
A horn sounded and she jerked awake. Her eyes fastened on the silver grill of a truck. She gasped and swerved. Her car fishtailed, the back slipping off the shoulder. She turned the other way, and the back slung the other direction. She braked hard, not even thinking to check behind her.
An endless moment later she brought the car under control as it slowed. She came to a stop on the side of the road and shoved the car into park. Her whole body shook, and she gasped for air. She turned in her seat to find Sam still sleeping peacefully, working his pacifier. His head was tilted to the side, and a frown puckered his brow.
“Oh, dear God. Oh, thank You. Thank You!” She envisioned that semi’s grill again. So close! She’d fallen asleep while driving—with Sammy in the car! She shuddered to think what would’ve happened had she awakened just a split second later. If that semi hadn’t honked his horn. A head-on collision. Sam would probably be dead right now. She couldn’t bear the thought.
Thank You, God!
She choked back great gulps of air, her eyes burning, adrenaline flooding through her system. She was awake now, all right. And she couldn’t go on like this. Even if the medication eventually kicked in and stopped making her so drowsy, it was unlikely it would stop the nightmares.
The nightmares, brought on by her fear of losing Brady. Because she’d gone and fallen in love with him. What a mess. She was a wreck. And she’d risked Sam’s life—twice now! She was fixing to bring about her own worst fear. She covered her face, catching her breath. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to him. And neither would Brady. Who could blame him?
She thought of her apartment in Atlanta. Yeah, it was a little lonely there, but at least when she was gone, those she loved were safe. And she was in a better frame of mind. She knew she needed therapy. Probably months of it, but the thought of digging up all that pain . . . of going back to the time that had left her in a helpless puddle . . . It was so daunting. Overwhelming. Impossible.
She needed to put some distance between them. She needed room to breathe and time to think about how to handle this. B
rady already had a wreck for a mother. He didn’t need one for a wife as well. He and Sam were both better off without her if this was the best she could do. Clearly.
She thought of Brady and the way he might feel if he lost her. She hated to cause him pain when he’d been nothing but good to her. She hated the thought of losing him at all. A vise tightened around her heart at the very idea. But she didn’t know what else to do.
She just didn’t know what else to do.
chapter thirty-six
Brady found Hope in the kitchen the next morning, quietly unloading the dishwasher. She was already dressed and ready for her trip back to Atlanta. The welcome aroma of coffee filled the air, and a crisp morning breeze drifted through the kitchen window.
“Good morning.” He brushed her hair aside and pressed a kiss to that place on her neck that his lips craved.
“Morning.”
He drew in a breath of her sweet scent. Mmm. “You’re up early. Didn’t sleep well?”
“I’ve got work on my mind, I guess.”
She’d had something on her mind all weekend. She’d seemed especially quiet since she’d picked him up from his dad’s house yesterday. His gut was telling him it wasn’t work, however. But maybe he was just imagining things. Or maybe she really was distracted by her new job. He let go of her so she could continue her task and went for the coffee.
“I thought I’d drop Sam at Zoe’s on the way out of town,” she said. “It’s right on my way.”
“What time are you leaving?”
“Soon as he’s up and fed. I have some commercials to produce at the station, and I’d like to stop in and chat with Diana before the week starts.”
He’d hoped to spend a little time with her this morning. He poured a mug of coffee and took a sip. “Sounds like you have a big week ahead.”
“I do. In fact . . . I’m not even sure I’m going to make it back at all next weekend,” she said offhandedly.
He blinked. “You’re not coming home Friday?”
She turned to put away a mug. “I have a lot of extra stuff to do this week, and it has to be done at the station.”
He frowned at her back, worry niggling in the recesses of his mind. Maybe he hadn’t misread her after all. He watched her closely, careful to keep his tone casual. “How about if Sam and I come down then? We can hang out at the apartment while you’re at work or go to the park or something.”
She reached for the silverware basket, not quite meeting his eyes. “I don’t know, Brady. The bed’s uncomfortable—it’s so lumpy—and it’s only one room. We’d be pretty crowded. And it’s not childproofed.”
“We can fix that. And I don’t mind cramped quarters.”
“I’ll be working all the time anyway. We’d hardly even see each other.”
His gaze sharpened on her. On the mottled pink washing over her cheeks. On her bottom lip, clamped by her teeth. And suddenly he had a hard time drawing a breath. He forced himself to ask the question that had been buzzing in his mind all weekend. “What’s really going on, Hope?”
The spoons clanked as she nested them in the island drawer.
“Nothing, I just—I have a lot of work to do, what with just starting and all . . . and I want to make a good impression. This job’s important to me.”
“I know it is. But I’m getting the sense it’s more than that. Something’s different between us.”
Her eyes flickered up. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You seem a little distant lately and . . . I don’t know. Quiet. Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what is it? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. I just . . .” She gave her head a shake. She was finally out of silverware. And out of words, apparently.
“Come on, honey. Talk to me. We’ve always been honest with each other.”
“I just . . .” She ran a hand over her neck, looking everywhere but at him. “Maybe I need a little bit of a break, that’s all.”
Ouch. “A break? From me?”
“It’s not like that—”
“Then what’s it like?” He hadn’t meant to raise his voice.
His breaths were coming too fast, and his stomach was churning with dread. He had a terrible feeling something worse was coming. Though his wife asking for a break was bad enough.
“Just calm down a minute, okay?”
But he was in no mood to be placated. He thought of their nights together, of all the tender moments they’d shared, and felt a terrible dread that she’d been faking it all. That the feelings were all on his side, and he’d been too big of a moron to notice.
The pity in her soulful eyes made a fist tighten in his chest. “I don’t want to hurt you, Brady. That’s the very last thing I want.”
Oh, God, is it true then?
Had he been fooling himself? Had he pushed her into a physical relationship she hadn’t wanted or been ready for? But no, she’d been so responsive. She’d even initiated things on more than one occasion.
She needed a break from him? They’d only been married two months! And they’d just been apart for five days last week. What the heck did she need a break from?
He was sure his feelings were all over his face right now, but he was helpless to conceal them. “Are you kidding me right now? We’re married, Hope—and just barely, at that. We’re not supposed to be craving breaks from each other.”
She covered his hand, which was fisted on the countertop. “I just think . . . a little distance right now might be for the best.”
“Best for who, Hope? I don’t want more distance, I want less.”
Her eyes grew glassy, and darn it, he didn’t want to soften toward her. He didn’t want to feel bad for her when he was feeling so bad himself. When she was doing this to them. But he watched her struggle to hold back the tears. Watched the genuine strain on her face.
Audrey had put a lot of doubts in his mind. Doubts about his own instincts. He’d been second-guessing himself lately where Hope was concerned. But despite this unexpected turn of events, he knew she cared about him. Maybe even more than that.
He didn’t understand what she was going through right now, but he hadn’t exactly been forthright about his own feelings either. His instincts had held him back, but maybe it was just what she needed to hear.
He drew a deep breath and turned his hand over, lacing his fingers through hers. His eyes bored into hers with all the intensity he was feeling. “I should’ve said this earlier. I don’t know why I didn’t, but, Hope, you should know . . . I’ve fallen in love with you.”
She flinched. “Don’t say that.”
He reared back as if she’d slapped him. It would’ve been far less painful. In fact, she couldn’t have surprised him more if she’d delivered a sucker punch to his gut.
“It’s true whether I say it or not,” he said gruffly.
He pulled his hand away and took a step back as if the bit of distance could protect his fragile heart. His mind spun with her hurtful response. He tried to clear the smoke of pain and see deeper. See what he might be missing here.
The recent weeks flashed through his mind like a flipbook. The way she’d touched him and kissed him and made love to him. He hadn’t imagined the look in her eyes. He hadn’t misread her intent. He wasn’t that big of an idiot. And she wasn’t that good of an actress.
He swallowed against the knot in his throat. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, Hope. But I think you might be in love with me too.”
Her eyes hardened. “I don’t want to be in love. That wasn’t part of the deal.”
He remembered this conversation, of course, before they’d set out. It was hard, losing Aaron. I don’t ever want to go through that again . . . I push men away. I’m starting to see that.
Yeah, well, that was becoming real obvious to him now. But he hadn’t exactly seen this coming. And he’d been too focused on getting custody of Sam to consider her wo
rds at the time or take them seriously. And now it was too late. She’d already worked her way past his defenses and stolen his heart.
He took in her stiff posture, the flicker of fear in her eyes. The way her arms were crossed over her chest like a shield. “I think maybe you’re just scared, Hope.”
“You think I don’t know that? I studied psychology, you know. But identifying the problem isn’t enough.” Her shoulders rose and fell on shallow breaths.
He felt a prick of sympathy. He didn’t know what it was like to suffer the death of your soul mate, but he knew what it was like to have your heart broken in two. The feeling was becoming more familiar with each passing second.
Sounds came from the living room monitor. Sam was up and babbling animatedly.
He took a step closer to her. “What you went through with Aaron was painful, Hope. I get that. What I went through with Audrey was painful too. But love always requires risk. And in the end it’s worth it.”
She thrust her chin up, her eyes shooting sparks. “Is it? How do you know that, Brady, huh? How do you know? Because you read it in a book somewhere?”
Oh, she had that wall up high. He wondered if he had the tools to get through it. His heart felt as if it might explode from his chest. “I guess you just have to take it on faith.”
She studied him, defeat slowly dimming the sparks in her eyes. “Well . . . maybe I don’t have that kind of faith anymore, Brady.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute.”
Sam’s babbling was growing more insistent.
Hope grabbed the empty silverware basket, placed it in the dishwasher, and pushed the door shut. “I should go get him. I need to get on the road.”
He gently took her arm. “We need to talk, Hope. I don’t want you leaving like this.”
She straightened, looking at him, her eyes shiny. “Like what, Brady? We’re just on different pages here. I don’t like it any more than you do, but talking about it isn’t going to change anything.”
“And time apart will?” He had the sudden thought that she could go to Atlanta today and never come back. Could she just leave him like that? Leave them? Maybe that’s what she’d been planning while she’d been staring off into space all weekend. Fear lifted the hairs on his arms.
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