I look to my right and then my left, trying to figure out where I can run to. Just as the door opens behind me, I take off to the right and run as fast as my legs will carry me.
I run and run until I can’t run anymore. I can’t think of anything but my burning lungs that are screaming for oxygen. I come to a sudden stop, gasping for air. I bend down, resting my hands on my knees to catch my breath as I look up at the dark bar that’s only lit with neon signs.
I need to numb these feelings.
I stand up right and walk inside. Even though I’m old enough to drink, I don’t do it often. I’m afraid I will like it too much, that it will work at numbing the pain inside of me too well, because if it does, it will be something I reach for every day.
As I walk through the bar, I check out my surroundings. The floor is unfinished, nothing more than a dirty, gray concrete. The walls are gray painted cinder blocks with neon beer signs hanging. There is a one pool table, a few tables and chairs that are hand-me-down mismatched, and a small area in the back where an old style jukebox is.
Looks like I’m not in the upscale part of town.
Despite the danger I may be in, I take a seat at the bar. A big man with a bald, tattooed head moves in front of me. “What can I get you?”
“Something strong.” I toss a twenty down.
A few seconds later, he’s placing a shot glass in front of me.
I pick it up and down the liquid.
The alcohol burns its way down and warms my stomach where it pools inside of me.
“Another.”
I drink three shots quickly, and almost instantly feel better. My body feels looser, my head foggy. All thoughts have ceased as I stare blankly at myself in the mirror across of me, wondering who I’ve become. My hair has air dried and is falling down from my run. I have dark circles under my eyes, and my face seems pale and hollow, despite my naturally tan skin.
Looking at how lost I’ve become, I’ve completely forgotten what drove me to come here…until he walks in.
I feel my body stiffen the moment he walks in the door and takes a seat next to me. He motions toward the bartender with his right hand that’s setting on the bar top. “Why’d you run out?”
My tongue feels thick. Can I even form words?
Nope.
I shrug while diverting my eyes to the line of empty shot glasses in front of me.
“Come on, Hope. I’m not here to make things harder for you. I had hoped that you’ve let all this go by now.” The bartender places a beer in front of him, but he doesn’t touch it.
He hoped I had let all this go by now? His words offend me. How could I let this go? Dean was the love of my life. He was my everything. He was taken away from me before we even got to start our future, and he hoped I let it go?
“How could you say that?” I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. “He was practically your son, and I’m pretty sure you were just in the same therapy group I was in!” The deep breath I took didn’t help with calming me. My anger only seems to grow.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just hoping that you came to college and moved on. I want you to be happy.” His eyes, that look so much like Dean’s, soften with his words.
I fight back my tears. I’d rather be mad than sad. “I don’t think I’ll ever let him go. I’ve been trying.”
He grabs his beer and takes a sip. “Have you?”
“Hello! Therapy!” I feel my eyes grow wide and for some reason, I’m throwing my hands around like I know sign language.
“That was you trying?” he asks, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Have you ever actually stood up and told your story?”
“No! Of course not. How will telling anyone my problems make them any better?” I motion for another shot to ease my anger and nerves. I don’t want to sit here and let him judge me, or tell me I’m wrong for the way I’m living my life.
“If you don’t make an effort, why do you keep going?” He rubs his dark five o’clock shadow, drawing my attention to his high cheek bones, to his angular jaw, and down to his thick lips that rest above a dimpled chin. God, he looks like Dean so much, but so much more mature and aged. Just seeing him makes my heart hurt like it’s being squeezed.
“It occupies my time, and I can listen to other people’s issues and forget about mine for a little while. Why did you go there?” I want to turn the tables on him. I want the attention off of me. If he inspects too much, I’m sure he’ll see how damaged I really am.
He lets out a long breath. “My life has changed so much since that day. I figured out that sitting around the house moping wasn’t going to fix anything, so I threw myself into work, going to the gym, and joining those meetings. It helped to take out a lot of aggression and like you said, it occupied my time.”
“But it’s not working?” I throw back my shot and set the empty glass down.
“Do you always drink like this?” He looks at the empty shot glasses setting in front of me, and I look at a nearly full glass of beer.
“No. I never drink actually. I’m afraid it will help me too much and I’ll turn into an alcoholic.” I laugh, I don’t mean to, but I can’t hold it back. Wait, how did we get back on me?
He takes another sip of his beer before looking back at me. “You need to heal. You need to let my son go, and move on. I know that sounds impossible, but he’s holding you back.”
Anger surges through me. “So all your effort and attempts at moving on didn’t work, and that’s why you joined a therapy group?”
His chest puffs out as he holds his breath before letting it all out. “It helps, but the problem is waiting for me when I get home, if that makes any sense.”
I can hear the anger in his voice now, and I’m pleased.
Chapter 7
I want him angry. I want him just as angry as I am. “Are you saying that his memory is waiting for you when you get home?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “That, and my wife.”
“Jane? Is she alright?” My anger falls away as my concern for her grows. She’s good friends with my mom, but Mom hasn’t said anything about her in a long time. Actually, now that I think about it, neither of my parents have said anything about Holden or Jane to me in a long time. I thought it was to keep from bringing up Dean, but now I know it’s because they don’t spend time together anymore. I remember spending summer days having pool parties and cook outs, all six of us: Dean, his aunt and uncle, my mom and dad, and myself. Many summers were spent that way.
“She’s depressed. She doesn’t get out of bed. When she does, she’s cracked out of her mind on all those pills the doctor gives her. She won’t try to get better. She thinks if she does, it would be to dishonor to his memory.”
I feel the tears sting my eyes again. More lives ruined because of me. “You two used to be so happy.”
“She’s not the same woman I married,” he replies.
“Is there talk of divorce?” I ask even though I’m a little afraid to.
He slowly nods. “There has been. I just can’t bring myself to do it. How can I leave her like that?” His face is covered in pain. I can tell from looking in his eyes that he is torn between staying to make Jane happy and leaving for his own happiness. It looks like he’s been putting Jane ahead of himself for far too long already.
I shake my head, not knowing how to answer him. “I’m sorry for all of this.”
He quickly snaps his eyes to mine, the blue-green becomes darker. “Sorry for what? This isn’t your fault. It’s nobody’s fault.”
I nod. “It is my fault. I wanted to go to that cabin. If I hadn’t said anything about it, we never would have been there.” I feel like crying from thinking about it, but the alcohol I’ve consumed numbs me enough that I can talk about it like it’s someone else’s story.
He turns to me, placing his strong hands on my shoulders, causing a spark to shoot through me. It travels from my shoulders all the way down to the tips of my toes
. My body comes alive. What was that?
“It was not your fault. Do you hear me? These things happen. We go when it is our time, and it was just his time. It could have happened when he was driving home from work. You didn’t cause this. Is that what you’ve been thinking all this time? That it was your fault?”
I can’t meet his eyes. I can’t do it because I know if I do, I’ll get lost in them like I did in Dean’s. They are so similar.
He pulls me against his chest, in a tight embrace. I know it’s nothing more than him trying to comfort me, but his scent surrounds me and it brings back memories. Memories I had long forgotten. Memories that do things to my body. How can they be so similar but so different?
I could close my eyes and pretend he’s Dean, that’s how similar they are. They smell the same, feel the same. I pull away, not comfortable touching him with these emotions running through me.
He senses my awkwardness and rights himself. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to feel this way. Dean, he is a great loss to a lot of people, but it was nobody’s fault, especially not yours.”
I nod, agreeing with him even though I don’t believe a word of it. My body is buzzing and his closeness is confusing me. I need distance. I need to get my head on straight.
I stand to use the restroom, but my eyes blur and I sway on my feet. He reaches out and catches me by the arm, righting me.
“Are you okay?”
I nod while I try to regain my balance. It’s like all the alcohol I’ve consumed has chosen this exact moment to hit me full force. I didn’t feel this drunk while I was sitting down, but standing, my vision starts to double.
“How are you getting home?” His tone has changed completely. Before he was talking softly, trying to comfort me, but now that he sees how drunk I really am, his voice is rough like he senses danger.
I shrug. “I’ll just take a bus or taxi or something. Don’t worry about me.” I try blowing him off by brushing his hand from my arm. But he doesn’t let go.
“The hell you will. Your dad would have my ass if he knew I left you here like this. I’ll drive you home.” He grabs my change from the bar and stuffs it into my hand before leading me out the door by my arm that he still hasn’t let go of. His body is stiff and rigid as he pulls me toward the door in his protective, dad mode.
The cold Chicago wind blows against my hot body, helping to sober me a tiny bit as he leads me in the direction of his car. He stops in front of a brand new Jeep Wrangler. It’s black with tinted windows and a hard top.
“Is this new?” I ask as he unlocks the vehicle.
“Yeah, I bought it about a year ago. Thought it was time for a change.” He opens the door for me and I climb inside carefully.
The smell of him has soaked into the interior and it surrounds me like a heavy blanket of comfort. I lean back and close my eyes, getting comfortable.
I hear him take his seat beside me. “Where do you live?” he asks with a deep, husky voice that makes my heart clench in my chest.
I mumble off my address before I fall into a deep sleep from the alcohol and stress of the day.
“Hope, you have to wake up. You have to get inside before your parents find out we’re late.”
I grumble something that I don’t even understand.
The next thing I know, I’m in his strong arms. His heat surrounds me, making me feel safe and loved. He’s cradling me against his chest and carrying me to the door.
I open my eyes and his blue-green eyes seem darker due to the late hour. They are completely mystifying. I wrap my hands around his neck and pull his lips to mine.
My eyes open and they lock in on intense blue-green eyes that are so close to my own. He’s holding me against his strong chest. My heart races and my breathing almost stops. How is this possible? Am I still dreaming? Without thinking, I move my lips to his. His taste is as strong as ever: mint with a hint of a woodsy flavor. His lips are strong as they part for me. His tongue sweeps out, dipping inside my mouth, needing just as much of me as I need from him. It’s been too long since I’ve been kissed this way. My lips tingle with pleasure before sending a lightning bolt straight to my stomach. God, I’ve missed him so much.
Suddenly, he pulls back. “Hope, stop. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
That wasn’t Dean’s voice.
My eyes pop open to see that Holden is the one holding me, the one I kissed.
I feel my face flush as tears sting my eyes from embarrassment. “Oh, my god. I’m so sorry.” I push against him until he places me gently on my feet. I stare up at him awkwardly.
His face looks to be made of stone, like he doesn’t know how to process what just happened either. “It’s okay, you’ve been drinking and we’ve had a pretty heavy conversation tonight. It was an honest mistake,” he tells me.
I nod, curtly. “Thanks for the ride home, and I’m sorry about…you know.” Heat is still radiating from my face.
“Don’t mention it.” He back-steps. “Now that I see you’re home safe, I’m going to take off. Good night, Hope.”
“Good night,” I say, weakly.
I stand in the hallway and watch as he walks away from me. When he’s no longer in view, I turn and let myself into my apartment.
The place is dark, indicating that Jen is probably asleep already. She doesn’t ever go out and she always retires to her room early. I don’t waste any time locking the door behind me, making a mad dash for my room.
When I’m in the comfort of my own space, I crash on the bed, curling into a ball to keep myself from shattering. Today has been the hardest day I’ve had in a long time. Seeing Holden, it stirred up things inside of me it shouldn’t. He reminds me so much of Dean. But in a way, he’s so much more. That confuses me and even makes me feel a little dirty.
That kiss was an honest mistake, but the things it did to me were no mistake. I felt something. Something stronger than I’ve ever felt before. He felt it too. I know he did. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have let it go on so long.
He said he was on the brink of divorce. Maybe that’s why he let it go on longer than necessary. I hate to think that his twenty year marriage has come to this.
Before I can get too lost in thought, I drift back to sleep.
When I wake in the morning, my head is still a mess, except now, I have a headache to accompany the confusion.
I tell myself again that the drunken kiss was a mistake, that I didn’t like it as much as I did. I blame it on the alcohol and that dream. I tell myself that it can never happen again, despite how much I may or may not have liked it.
I decide to ignore everything that happened last night. Those were just drunk feelings, they don’t mean anything. I was confused, that’s all.
With that settled, I get up and shower for the day. I dress in a pair of jeans and a tight fitting, long sleeve shirt that hugs my curves, and sit at my desk to get some homework done. But my mind keeps drifting to Holden. I can’t stop it.
I imagine what could’ve happened if he had let that kiss go on. I think about the way his lips felt against mine, how strong and hard his body is, his big hands and how they would feel palming my breast. A tingle forms in my stomach and I feel turned on. I haven’t felt a feeling like this since that weekend. That frightens me. Dean is it for me. Why am I feeling this way? It almost sickens me to think of how my body is responding to Holden, Dean’s adoptive father. What is the matter with me?
I push away from my desk and grab my coat and bag. I’m going to group. That always works when I need to keep my mind off something.
Luckily for me, they have these meetings every day at different times throughout the day. That way anyone needing help will always find it.
I think about what Holden said about telling my story, but I dismiss it automatically. Telling someone my story won’t make it any better, it will only bring it to the surface. It will be staring me right in the face, something I don’t want. I want it to stay buried, deep beneath the self-loathi
ng and despair I feel on a daily basis.
I walk outside and the sun is shining. The cool breeze blows across my face and helps to clear my head and calm my racing thoughts. I decide to walk across town so I can enjoy it a little longer. The city is loud and busy like always, but I don’t hear any of the noise. I look up at the trees as their branches blow with the wind. I look at the clear, bright sky. I push every last thought from my crowded head as I enjoy the first sense of peace I’ve had in a long time.
I pull my camera out of my bag and start snapping pictures of the blooming flowers, the bright light of the sun shining through the trees, and the fast moving city. Photography is the only thing that has kept me sane all these years. It’s my little escape, my way of freezing the fast paced world around me. My way of pausing a moment for a lifetime.
I make it to the meeting much sooner than I planned. The parking lot is near empty but I walk inside anyway and see Holden setting up the tables with cookies and coffee.
“Hey,” he says in his deep, gravelly voice when he looks up and his eyes lock on mine.
It cuts straight through me as I freeze in place. “Hey. I didn’t realize you would be here,” I force myself to respond. I hang out by the door, afraid of getting too close to him.
I see his shoulders fall as he sets down the box of cookies. “Can we talk?” he asks, sensing my apprehensiveness.
I wrap my arms around myself. “What do you want to talk about?”
One of his brows lifts as he gives me a disapproving look. “You know what I want to talk about.”
I was drunk last night. I could pretend like I don’t even remember what happened. I can avoid it like everything else.
He motions toward the chairs that are in their usual circular arrangement.
I take a deep breath and walk toward them feeling like I’m about to be in trouble. He sits down and I sit on the other side of the circle, not wanting to be near him. The more distance, the better. I have to gain control over this. When he looks at me, he sees the girl he once knew, the one that was always on his son’s arm, not the woman I am now. These feelings are confusing and one-sided. I can’t let him know.
Wrapped in Hope: A Forbidden Romance (The Hope Series Book 1) Page 5