Rynna ran her fingers through Frankie’s wild, wild hair. “That’s right, Sweet Pea. Being brave is being afraid and doing what is right anyway. Just like when your daddy ran into the fire to save us . . . he was scared, but he knew he would do whatever it took to save us. He came right when we needed him most.”
Rynna looked over at me. “Just like your uncle Kale rushed in to save Evan right when he needed him most. I just don’t think your uncle knows how very brave he really is.”
Frankie started hopping across the wooden planks, singing, “Daddys and doctors are so, so brave! They come to save the day! Superhero, superhero, superhero. And I’m Wonder Woman and I’m brave, too!”
She threw her arms in the air with her silly song that to most would mean nothing, when it felt like it just might mean everything. She turned back to me with the biggest grin stretched across her face. “See, Uncle, you don’t needs to be sad any more. You are so brave and you did all the right things. Even if you’re scared, you are still Evan’s bestest team.”
My heart thrashed and my spirit soared.
Because, no, I hadn’t done all the right things.
But I knew exactly what I needed to do.
34
Hope
I rushed out from A Drop of Hope’s kitchen, my heels clicking on the floors, my knees feeling a little shaky.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever been so nervous in all my life.
Sensing the movement, Evan spun around where he was standing by the inside of the cupcake display case. When he saw me, he smiled a smile so powerful it penetrated right through the center of me.
Moving forward, I grabbed him by either side of his precious face, my thumb swiping across his cheek to clean off the smudge of frosting. “Someone’s been sneaking into the display case again.”
He nodded in my hold, that smile somehow growing stronger, my little man all dressed up in a suit, and his normally messy hair tamed with product.
Just looking at him sent my bottom lip trembling. “You look so handsome.”
His little hands flew between us.
YOU ARE THE PRETTIEST MOM IN THE WHOLE WORLD.
“You think so, huh?” I asked, trying to settle the jittery nerves that scattered through my insides, twisting up my tummy in pride and apprehension.
Jenna popped her head in through the front swinging door. “Are you two ready yet? We’re gonna be late if we don’t get out of here.”
ARE YOU READY? I signed.
YUP!
LET’S DO THIS.
I took his hand and wound us around the front counter and toward the entrance. I clicked off the last light in the shop before we stepped out into the evening, the air still full of humidity and warmth.
Still, a chill skated my skin.
Sucking in a deep breath, I moved for Jenna’s car, which was idling at the curb, and helped Evan into the back before I climbed into the front passenger seat.
The second I clicked my buckle, Jenna pulled out onto the street.
“This is so gonna wrinkle up my dress,” I said, another dose of that worry injecting itself in my veins.
“Don’t even start, Harley Hope. You look gorgeous. You’re gonna be the prettiest girl in the whole place.”
Funny how I’d never had stage fright for a second of my life. But this felt different. As if I was getting ready to let a room full of strangers view the most sacred part of me. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t incredibly honored to be invited.
To be a part of it.
I fidgeted with the skirt of my designer black dress, the one Jenna had dragged me out to some upscale boutique downtown to purchase for the event.
An event that was being held at Gingham Lakes Children’s Center.
The second I even let the thought enter my mind, moisture was threatening at my eyes. I fought off the tingly sensation that raced my throat.
This was definitely not the time nor place to get lost in that vacancy that echoed inside of me.
I only allowed myself it in the darkest hours of the night. When I was alone, and I was free to let the loss I was dealing with consume me. When I allowed myself to miss him. To ache for him. My body pleading and my heart begging for him through the silence.
I gave myself the time to feel it.
The pain.
The loneliness.
Let the what-should-have-beens cry out from my spirit.
Just for a little while.
Then I got up the next morning with a staggering amount of thankfulness.
Told myself, someday. Someday I’d find the man who was meant for me. The one who completed me.
The hardest part was Kale had fit every single one of those spaces.
Filled them perfectly.
I gave a little yelp when I was poked in the side.
“There you are, Harley Hope Masterson. Here I was, thinking I was gonna have to crawl around in that head of yours and rescue you from wherever you went. Because you sure seem to be going there a whole lot the last few days.”
I choked back the thick clot of emotion. “Just thinkin’.”
Clinging to the steering wheel, Jenna glanced over at me and then turned back to the road. “And just what are you thinkin’ about? Or more specifically, who?”
I gave her a shrug. “No one.”
It might as well have been a shout of his name from the rooftops.
Kale. Kale. Kale.
Because it was always right there.
An echo in my consciousness.
The man carved into me.
“Will he be there?” she asked.
Flinching, I shook my head. “No. I saw the guest list. He isn’t on there. I’m sure he knew it’d be too hard on us to see him.”
Her jaw clenched. “He owes me his dick, you know? Told him I was gonna cut it off if he hurt you. And that man hurt you.”
A crashing wave of it hit me from out of nowhere.
Covering me whole.
Hurt.
She was right.
Kale had hurt me.
A tear streaked free, and my voice cracked when I whispered, “How’s it possible to be so thankful for someone and devastated by them at the same time? It feels like I’m torn right in two, Jenna.”
“It would be wrong if you felt any other way, Harley Hope. He saved your son’s life, but that doesn’t give him a pass for walking out on you.”
I wiped the back of my hand across my dampened cheek, trying not to smudge my mascara as a shot of frustration took hold. “That’s the problem . . . I want to give him that pass, because he gave me back my world. I just didn’t know that, in the end, he’d leave such a huge piece of it missing.”
A heavy breath pulled from my lungs.
Weighted.
A thousand pounds of sorrow.
I looked at her. “Does that make me crazy?”
Her head shook. “Of course not. It makes you Hope. Who you are. I just wish he would have seen you for what you are.”
My attention shifted away, and I blinked out the windshield at the buildings whizzing by. “I’m not sure him walking out had anything to do with me. I just don’t think he could handle it. Seeing Evan that way . . . after going through it with Melody.”
A quiver rocked through me when the memories flashed.
Evan collapsing.
Kale right there. Fighting for him. Refusing to give up.
Saving him.
My son.
Emotion bottled high in my throat, and I choked around it. “I forgive him, Jenna. I forgive him, and I refuse to regret loving him. No matter what kind of pain he left behind.”
She reached over and squeezed my hand. “Then don’t. You don’t need to feel guilty for loving him. He’s the one who’s missin’ out.”
I glanced back at my son, who was drawing another picture of Captain America on his sketchpad.
He’d been doing it nonstop since he’d come home from the hospital eight weeks ago.
Dealing with his own kind of grief.
Evan’s heart on the line, the same as mine.
I couldn’t count the number of times I’d found him silently crying. Angry and confused by the fact Kale had saved him and then turned around and left us.
HE PROMISED HE WOULDN’T HURT YOU. THAT HE CARED ABOUT US. HE’S NOT SUPPOSED TO HURT YOU. THAT’S THE RULE, he’d signed, driving another stake right into my demolished heart.
Our kinship so profound because he was a prisoner to the same confusion as I was.
This intense, overpowering gratefulness for a man who’d walked away in the end.
But somehow, I understood he couldn’t stay and have to face the same ghosts every day. That it wasn’t anything Evan or I had or hadn’t done. It just hurt him too much to stay.
And I could only be thankful for what he’d given while he was there.
His time purposed.
Purposed for us.
“Someday,” I whispered beneath my breath. “Someday.”
Two hours later, I was sitting at one of the round banquet tables up close to the stage.
Balloon bouquets were set up all over the enormous space, twinkle lights were strung up across the ceilings, and extravagant floral arrangements were set in the middle of the linen-covered tables.
Our plates had just been removed after we’d finished the gourmet dinner.
Evan was to my right and Jenna was to my left. Dr. Krane and his wife sat to the other side of Evan, and a few people I’d never met before took up the rest of the round table.
The gala had been setup in a conference room, the collapsible walls opened to accommodate the three hundred guests who’d been invited.
The fundraiser was for Gingham Lakes Children’s Center, and while some of the guests were staff and families who’d been helped by some of the center’s programs, the lions share were Gingham Lakes’s affluent, there to open their pocketbooks to support GLCC Charities.
Minus the Gentry’s, of course.
“Thank you for all your support,” the chairman of the board for NICU Services said as he completed his speech. Those nerves surged and spun, my stomach growing tight.
I was up next.
I’d memorized the program.
William Wright would speak, then Martha Jiminez, one of the event organizers would introduce me. I clapped for William Wright while anxious wings fluttered and scattered through my entire body. My eyes dropped closed for a moment so I could mentally prepare myself for Martha to step out to take his place.
The clapping died off and a ripple of confusion rolled across the room, a quiet anticipation taking hold to each person in attendance.
Though for me, that anticipation thundered and boomed.
A spark to the air.
I pried my eyes open and gasped when I saw who stood at the podium.
That crazy attraction that climbed to the air. It came alive between us where he stood up there dressed in a fitted black tux.
Potent.
Powerful.
Persuasive.
Kale.
The man was a perfect chaos.
My mouth went dry.
His hair was styled in that immaculate way, every part of him put together.
Commanding and bold.
But I saw beneath that gorgeous exterior. Everything about him tonight was abraded and raw.
So intense I could feel the emotion coming off him like a shockwave.
Under the table, Jenna pinched my leg, her eyes wide when I looked at her. “What is he doing here?” she whispered under her breath.
I gave her a short shake of my head.
I had no idea.
Hadn’t expected this.
God, I didn’t even know if I could handle it.
He cleared his throat. “I know your programs say Martha Jiminez should be standing up here right now to make this next introduction . . .”
He let a small smirk climb to his full lips. “There’s a chance I might have bribed her to let me stand up here tonight, but don’t blame her, I’ve been known to be a little convincing when I need to be.”
A small wave of laughter rolled through the room.
Because there stood that cocky, arrogant boy.
A second later, a quiet somberness filled his expression. “But the truth is, I would have paid anything to get to stand up here and make this introduction, because this charity is so incredibly important to me. As a pediatric physician here at Gingham Lakes Children’s Center, I have the honor of treating patients with many different illnesses and chronic diseases. There is no better feeling than getting to take part in their care. To maybe have the chance to make their lives a little better.”
Those blue eyes locked on me.
Penetrating.
Infiltrating and invading.
A shiver rocked through me, and Evan stirred in his seat, his own surprise coming off him in waves.
“And sometimes, it’s the patient who makes our lives better. The patient who touches us in ways we never could have expected. The patient who teaches us what true hope looks like.”
His voice grew thick, and moisture grew heavy in my eyes.
What was he doing?
Ruining me. That’s what. I had no idea how I was going to make it through this. And still, nothing felt more right than him standing up there.
He let his gaze bounce around the room. “I’m standing up here tonight with the great honor of introducing our next charity represented here this evening, A Lick of Hope. A Lick of Hope is a foundation created to support children born with heart defects and their families.”
He looked down at the folded sheet of paper he’d brought up with him and cleared his throat before he started to read it.
“A Lick of Hope has raised over two hundred fifty thousand dollars this year alone,” he said. “Their mantra reads, ‘Anything is possible if you have A Lick of Hope.’ After having the honor of getting to know this charity’s head and its inspiration, an amazing little boy who taught me exactly what that hope looks like, I am now a true believer of this statement.”
My ribs squeezed my heart. Or maybe it was just my heart that was struggling to break out. Desperate for its match.
His head dropped for a moment, as if he were gathering himself, before he looked up and met the crowd. “As physicians, we wake up each day with a huge burden on our shoulders. The health and wellbeing of the little people we get to see and treat. Sometimes that burden can be overwhelming. Wearing. Scary.”
Overcome, he sucked in a breath. Finally, he pressed on, “A Lick of Hope was created and is headed by an incredible woman and her son who reminded me what being a doctor is truly about. It’s about faith and belief and never, ever giving up, no matter how hard it might be. That even through our losses, our failures, we get up and fight all over again.”
My blood thundered through my veins, a torrent of emotion when he turned that magnetic, knowing gaze on me.
That connection pulsed.
Alive.
Begging and prodding.
“I am so incredibly proud to introduce the heart of A Lick of Hope, Harley Hope Masterson.”
A thunder of applause echoed through the room, and tears broke free of my eyes. Overwhelmed, I pushed to standing on my high heels, still caught in the stare of this beautiful man.
Evan was beaming up at me, getting onto his knees on his chair as he frantically waved his hands in the air.
My child unable to hear the sound but no doubt swept up in the vibration.
I touched his sweet chin before I turned and headed for the steps that led to the stage.
Wobbly.
Lightheaded.
Because this man made me that way.
Vulnerable and shaky as he stared down at me as if I were his world.
Hope.
It threatened to bloom in my spirit.
I beat it back and focused on what tonight was all about.
I mo
ved through the intensity that bellowed from the walls.
At the bottom step, I just . . . stopped. Turned around and stretched my hand out for my son.
He was just as big a part of this endeavor as I was.
Truthfully, more.
The inspiration of it.
The lifeblood of it.
And he’d worked his little fingers to the bone helping me make those lollipops.
His grin was magnetic when he saw my invitation. So huge when he scrambled down from his chair and raced for my side.
The room lit up in awws and whistles and sweet sounds for my son.
My miracle boy.
I gathered his hand in mine and we moved up the steps toward Kale.
Kale who stepped back and stuffed his big hands in his pockets and stared at us with this adoring, proud, sorrowful expression on his face.
So sincere.
For a moment, we were stuck there, lost to the other, before he leaned in and brushed his lips against my cheek. “I am so proud of you.”
Energy flashed.
Ignited.
Chills racing across my flesh.
He ran his knuckle across Evan’s cheek before he turned and headed down the side steps and down the aisle.
Barely able to stand, I moved to the microphone with Evan’s hand still wrapped in mine.
I swatted at the tears clouding my vision, clearing my throat as I released a nervous laugh and looked out at the still-cheering crowd.
“Thank you all so much for being here. I know A Lick of Hope is a small charity compared to others here, but it means the entire world to me, and I’m incredibly honored to be invited to speak tonight.”
I lifted Evan’s hand in the air. “And this little boy . . . Evan . . . he’s the reason I’m here tonight.”
My tongue darted out to wet my dried lips, still feeling the weight of Kale’s stare from where he’d moved to the very back of the room at the entrance doors.
“When my son was born, the first thing I wanted to know was if he had ten fingers and ten toes, and when I held him for the first time, whole and perfect in my arms, I’d never been so happy in all my life. I had no idea that we soon would be in for the fight of our lives.”
Emotion swam and churned, and I glanced down at my boy, who was still swaying at my side.
Follow Me Back (A Fight for Me Stand-Alone Novel Book 2) Page 35