She reached out, fingering the sleeve of his T-shirt. She swallowed as she met his eyes. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Brady. Honest, I’m not.” Her voice was raspy with tears, and she was looking at him with regret. Remorse.
He swallowed hard. “It turns out you don’t really have to try.”
chapter thirty-seven
By the time Hope arrived in Atlanta she was a wreck. She’d cried all the way there and couldn’t get it together in time to go in early as she’d planned. It had been all she could do to collect herself in time for her shift.
Losing herself in her work, she found, helped. So she stayed late that night and each night that week. She worked until she was too exhausted to do anything but fall into a sound—and nightmare-free—sleep.
Brady texted her some that week. They even talked on the phone twice. He kept the conversation light, carefully avoided anything serious. He caught her up on the goings on in Copper Creek and filled her in on Sam’s escapades.
Oh, how she missed them both! She swallowed back lumps in her throat as he talked. His voice was deflated, like a balloon someone had let the air out of. And she was that someone, she knew.
It was easier when she didn’t have to talk to him. So sometimes she let his calls go through. He didn’t leave voicemails.
Zoe tried to call on the weekend, but she let that go through too. From her voicemail it was obvious Brady had mentioned their problems to her. Zoe didn’t sound too happy with her, which didn’t exactly make Hope eager to return the call.
Instead, Hope texted that she’d get back with her soon. But it was easy to fall back into a busy workweek and “forget” to return Zoe’s call.
On the next Thursday, Hope answered Brady’s call, part of her missing him so much she wanted nothing more than to hear his voice. Another part feeling like she was just a glutton for punishment.
“Are you coming home this weekend?” he asked after they’d chatted a few minutes.
Her heart squeezed tight. “I don’t think so, Brady. Not yet.”
His profession of love had replayed over and over the last week. After Audrey’s callousness, she knew it had taken courage for him to own up to his feelings, and she regretted her impulsive response. Don’t say that. The memory of the way he’d flinched made her chest ache.
“Hope . . . We can’t just keep on like this. We’re married. We made a commitment to each other.” She heard his frustration in his tone.
“I know. I know.” She did know. She didn’t have a plan. She only knew she felt better when she was in Atlanta. She wasn’t plagued by panic and nightmares here. She wasn’t endangering Sam. And the distance somehow made the risk her heart had taken seem more manageable.
But she missed Brady. She missed her boy. When they got off the phone, she cried herself to sleep and awakened the next morning swollen-eyed and miserable.
She’d planned to visit a new church this weekend, but sadness seemed to weight her to the bed like a cement block. She turned off her alarm and sank back into oblivion.
She woke sometime later to a pounding at her door.
Frowning at the intrusion, she reluctantly threw back the covers. It was probably Candice, the woman who owned the garage apartment. She dropped by every now and then to let her know the landscaper was coming to get the leaves or that they were having friends over and would she mind parking on the street?
Hope finger-combed her hair and wished she hadn’t been so lazy this morning. It was obvious she’d only just rolled out of bed, and it was well after noon.
She pulled open the door, and her eyes widened. Zoe stood there, arms crossed. Her green eyes were tightened at the corners, and her lips formed a taut line.
Zoe’s eyes fell over Hope’s disheveled appearance, the T-shirt and yoga pants, the messy hair. She probably sported pillow creases on her face too. There might’ve been a little compassion in Zoe’s expression. Possibly some waves of anger radiating off her.
“You sleeping the day away?” she asked.
“Trying to.” Hope very briefly considered shutting the door. She didn’t want to face this yet. She was barely awake. But she stepped back and let her friend pass. There was no avoiding her now.
She became aware that her apartment smelled vaguely of the dirty dishes in the sink and the takeout from the night before. The Styrofoam container was still open on the tiny table.
“Have a seat.” Hope gestured toward the table, the only place that seated two. She closed the container and pitched it into the trash, then sat across from Zoe, who was ramrod straight in the chair. “I wasn’t expecting you, obviously.”
Zoe scowled at her. “What did you think would happen when you ran away from home, refused my calls, and ignored my texts?”
“I’m not a teenager, Zoe. I didn’t run away from home.” Though Zoe would know all about that. But Hope wasn’t going to throw her past in her face.
“Well, you took off on Brady, so I don’t know what else to call it. Desertion? Abandonment?”
Okay, definitely mad. “It’s only been two weeks.” But, man, did it feel longer than that. “I was going to ask if you were here as my best friend or as Brady’s sister, but that’s becoming obvious.”
“I can’t really separate the two, Hope. But yes, right now the Brady’s sister side is more prevalent. But maybe that’s just because I’ve only heard his side.”
“So you’re here for my side of things, is that it?”
“I’m here because I want the best for both of you.”
“What did Brady tell you?”
Zoe tucked her auburn hair behind her ear and gave her a look. “He kept it pretty vague.”
“Told you it was none of your business, did he?”
Zoe leaned in, her eyes shooting sparks. “Do you know how hurt he is, Hope? You’re breaking his heart. I can’t stand to see him like this.” She smacked the table. “Darn it, this is exactly what I was afraid would happen. I sat right there in the Mellow Mug and warned you both, but would you listen?”
“Fine, you were right. Is that what you want to hear?”
“No, that’s not what I want to hear. I want to hear that you’re going to go home and work this out with your husband. Your husband, Hope. You made a commitment to him and to Sam.”
“Well, maybe they’re better off without me.”
“Baloney! You’re just afraid. You’re bailing on them because you’re in love with Brady after all, and you’re too chicken to follow through on your feelings.”
“Wow, thanks for the compassion. No offense, Zoe, but I think I’m going to go with Brady’s response here and tell you to butt out.”
Her breaths had drawn shallow, and heat flushed her cheeks. Or maybe it was shame. Zoe would never know how much she hated hurting Brady. Or how badly she wished she could just be normal. But the fear was too overwhelming, and she didn’t have the courage to go through this again. She just didn’t.
“This isn’t just a fear issue, you know. It’s a faith issue.”
Hope gave her a withering look.
“Glare at me all you want, but you know I’m right. When you truly trust God with your future, there’s no room for fear. You know He’s got your back. You know He’s going to get you through, no matter what happens.”
Zoe’s words pierced her heart like an arrow on a bull’s-eye. “That all sounds real nice until you’re paralyzed by fear.”
Zoe gave her a sympathetic look. “I didn’t say it was easy. I’m just asking you to take a step of faith here.”
Hope’s eyes stung, and she blinked against the rise of tears. Gah! She was so tired of crying. She swallowed against the knot in her throat and picked at a thread on her T-shirt.
Zoe placed her hand over Hope’s. When Hope met her eyes, there was sympathy shining there. That only made her feel worse. A tear tumbled down Hope’s face, and she brushed it away impatiently.
“You’re not going to lose Brady the way you lost Aaron, honey.”
&nb
sp; “You don’t know that.”
“Well, the odds are definitely in your favor. He’s a healthy twenty-seven-year-old man.”
Hope shook her head. “It’s not just Brady, it’s Sam too. This is just . . . more than I bargained for, Zoe. It’s too much. I don’t want it.”
“Hope . . . Deep down everybody wants to love and be loved. You know that.”
“Not me.”
“Well,” Zoe said gently. “You sure liked being in love with Aaron, best I recall. You were very happy with him. It was losing him that was so hard. And I get that. I do. I was there. I remember.”
Hope’s back stiffened. “No, you don’t know. Watching it isn’t the same as experiencing it. It was horrific, and I never want to experience that again.”
Zoe studied her for an uncomfortable moment. “So you’re just going to live without love for the rest of your life? What kind of life is that?”
“I’m no good to Brady this way. Or Sam. You’ll have to trust me on that.”
Zoe sighed, giving her a long, steady look.
Hope went back to the thread on her shirt. The clock wall ticked in the quiet. She looked at her bed longingly. She wanted to climb back under the covers and stay there for the rest of the day. The rest of the week. When would it get better? When would she stop missing him? Stop loving him?
As if reading her mind, Zoe said, “Why don’t you go get a shower? I’ll take you out for breakfast—or I guess it’s lunch at this point.”
“I was kind of wanting to hang around here today.”
“Sulking and suffering under a fog of depression? No way.” Zoe stood, pulling Hope to her feet. “If you shower, I’ll do your dishes. And for gosh sakes, wash your hair. You look like a hobo.”
“It’s the weekend,” Hope grumbled.
“You didn’t even go to church.”
She lifted a shoulder. “I overslept.”
Hope made her way to the shower. It had been a couple days.
After she was clean and in fresh clothes she felt minutely better. She took Zoe to a diner down the street, and they talked about everything but Brady and Sam.
An hour later they were saying good-bye in her driveway.
Zoe hugged her. “I love you, you know.”
Hope’s heart squeezed tight. “I love you too.”
“Please answer me when I call, or I’ll be forced to drag you out of bed again. And think about what I said, okay?”
“I will.” A moment later she gave Zoe a wave as she pulled from the drive.
Hope couldn’t seem to help thinking about Brady and Sam. She just couldn’t work out a solution she could live with.
chapter thirty-eight
Brady put Sam down in his crib and pulled the nursery door closed. Saturdays were the longest days, and he was glad this one was almost over. It was his third weekend without Hope.
Without hope.
He huffed as he took the stairs. Was there ever a more accurate play on words? She’d taken most of her clothes with her. Yes, he’d checked her closet. Her drawers were almost empty too. Was it because she wasn’t coming back at all?
He’d never seen things going this direction. He’d been right about her pillow, however. It did smell like her. Despite his best intentions he found himself pulling it close at night, inhaling her. Pathetic.
The long night stretched ahead like a barren desert. He’d been working crazy hours, leaving Sam with Ruby too much. He had to stop that. His boy needed him. He had to find a better way to cope. He just wasn’t sure what that was.
Instead of joining the gang at the Rusty Nail, he’d caught a meal at the diner with Jack. Brady couldn’t tolerate the thought of all his besotted friends tonight. Jack, being as lovelorn as Brady, made a better companion these days. Misery loved company and all that.
A knock sounded on the door, and foolish hope bloomed inside. Just as quickly he stuffed it down.
Hope wouldn’t knock, you idiot.
Even so, he welcomed the distraction. Anything was better than a block of time with nothing to do but ache.
He pulled open the door to find his mother standing on the stoop under the puddle of the porch light. Okay, not his first choice. He felt a prick of guilt at the thought. She was trying to make amends, and he was trying to accept the olive branch. It’s just he felt he had to prop her up sometimes, and he didn’t have the energy for that tonight.
She toyed with the braid hanging over her shoulder. “Hi, honey.”
Brady dredged up a smile as he opened the door wider. “Hey there.” He avoided addressing her in any particular way. He already had a mom—she was gone—but calling her April seemed hurtful somehow.
“Sorry to drop by,” she said as she stepped inside. “Is now a good time to chat?”
“Good as any.” Part of him was glad he’d already put Sam down. He felt so on guard when she held his boy. But the baby was also a nice distraction from their awkward conversations. From their stilted and strange relationship.
“Can I get you something?” he asked. “Soda or iced tea?”
“Some tea would be great. Thanks.”
He went to fetch it from the fridge.
“Where’s my little guy?” she called from the living room.
“Just put him down for the night. He was pretty tuckered.”
“Too bad. I was itching to play with him.”
A minute later he found her in front of the bookshelves, looking at the photos and knickknacks. His grandma’s antique mantel clock. His array of fiction and Hope’s hefty tomes on psychology and social issues.
“Thanks,” she said, taking a sip of iced tea. “Where’s Hope?”
“She took a job in Atlanta. She’s commuting.” If April had heard any differently in town she didn’t dispute it. He sure wasn’t baring his soul to her.
“This is a good picture.” She pointed at a selfie he and Hope had taken on their honeymoon.
Hope had enlarged it to a five by seven and mounted it in a wedding gift frame. The sunrise was in the background, and there was so much happiness and affection shining from her eyes it made his chest ache.
He turned away and sank into his armchair. “Have a seat. I’d offer you a snack or something, but we’re a little down on groceries at the moment.”
“I’m not hungry anyway. I just had a sandwich.”
She sat on the sofa end closest to him and settled her big satchel of a purse at her side. “Listen, Brady, this is so awkward, but I’m just going to cut to the chase. You know I’ve been trying to get my act together. I got that job at the Laundromat this week, and I just found a place, an apartment, that I think I’ll be able to afford.”
“That’s great.” He sensed there was more coming, and wariness washed over him.
“Thanks. I’m very optimistic about my future. But . . .” She gave him a wan smile. “I don’t have the money to put down the first month’s rent and security deposit. And at the wage I’m making it’ll take a good long time to come up with it. My friend’s about had it with sharing her place.”
First month’s rent and deposit. That wasn’t too much. They had it. He’d have to talk to Hope . . .
“And then there’re things in my past I can’t quite get away from, you know? I’ve racked up some debt that’s kinda got me in a bit of a fix. I’d never ask if I had another option, and of course I’d pay you back. Monthly installments or whatever.”
“How much?”
“The debt’s a little overwhelming, I admit. It’d take about ten to get me paid off in full.”
He blinked. “Ten thousand?”
She had the grace to look a little sheepish. “It goes back a long ways, and I’m afraid my creditors are getting a little impatient with me.”
Creditors. Probably more like dealers. He wondered if she was in physical jeopardy.
“I know it’s a lot, and I wish I had someone else to ask. I hate to be a burden.”
“April . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t
have that kind of money sitting around.”
“Well, okay, but you can get your hands on it, right? Cash in some CDs or stocks or something? I’d never ask if it wasn’t an emergency.”
CDs? Stocks? He looked closely at her, wondering what kind of emergency she was talking about. It was then he noticed the way her fingers trembled as she twisted her purse straps. There was a sheen of perspiration on her forehead despite the coolness of the night.
“I’m sorry.” He really was, but not for the reasons she might think. “We just paid for a wedding and an attorney. I don’t have that kind of money right now.”
A shadow flickered in her jaw, and she entreated him with desperate eyes. “Come on, Brady . . . You’re my last hope here. I know I haven’t been much of a mom to you, but you have to know I love you. You’re my baby boy. I’d do’ bout anything for you, and I know you’re a real good man. I’m so proud of the way you turned out.”
He steeled himself against her approval. A man never completely outgrew the need to make his parents proud. “I wish I could help you, but we don’t have that kind of money.”
April leaned forward, all traces of affection draining from her face. Her eyes darkened, and the lines around her mouth showed as her lips twisted. The shift in her countenance was jarring.
“You think I don’t know about that inheritance you got? She was my mama, and she left me nothing! That money should’ve been mine—all of it—and I’m just asking for half.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “That . . . that money’s long gone. I spent it on my business—on that great big barn out there. It took the inheritance and then some.”
Her nostrils flared. “You’re lying. That money was my birthright.”
“She couldn’t leave you the money, April. She didn’t even know where you were, and you would’ve snorted it all up your nose anyway.”
April shot to her feet. “How dare you judge me! That money is mine, and I want it!”
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