Hopeless

by Colleen Hoover

  right letting you love me back when I was keeping so much from you.”

  Tears are streaming down my cheeks again, and even though they’re the exact same tears that come from the exact same eyes, they’re completely new to me. They aren’t tears from heartache or anger…they’re tears from the incredible feeling overcoming me right now, hearing him say how much he loves me.

  “I don’t think you could have picked a better time to tell me you loved me than tonight. So I’m happy you waited.”

  He smiles, looking down at me with fascination. He dips his head and kisses me, infusing my mouth with the taste of him. He kisses me softly and gently, delicately sliding his mouth over mine as he unties my robe. I gasp when his hand eases inside, stroking my stomach with his fingertips. The feel of his touch on me right now is a completely different sensation than just fifteen minutes ago. It’s a sensation I want to feel.

  “God, I love you,” he says, moving his hand from my stomach and across my waist. He slowly trails his fingers down to my thigh and I moan into his mouth, resulting in an even more determined kiss. He places a flat palm on the inside of my leg and puts slight pressure against it, wanting to ease himself against me, but I flinch and become tense. He can feel my involuntary moment of hesitation, so he pulls his lips from mine and looks down at me. “Remember, baby. I’m touching you because I love you. No other reason.”

  I nod and close my eyes, still afraid that the same numbness and fear is about to wash over me again. Holder kisses my cheek and pulls my robe closed.

  “Open your eyes,” he says gently. When I do, he reaches up and traces a tear with his finger. “You’re crying.”

  I smile up at him reassuringly. “It’s okay. They’re the good kind of tears.”

  He nods, but doesn’t smile. He studies me for a moment, then takes my hand in his and laces our fingers together. “I want to make love to you, Sky. And I think you want it, too. But I need you to understand something first.” He squeezes my hand and bends down, kissing another escaping tear. “I know it’s hard for you to allow yourself to feel this. You’ve gone so long training yourself to block the feelings and emotions out any time someone touches you. But I want you to know that what your father physically did to you isn’t what hurt you as a little girl. It’s what he did to your faith in him that broke your heart. You suffered through one of the worst things a child can go through at the hands of your hero…the person you idolized…and I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have felt like. But remember that the things he did to you are in no way related to the two of us when we’re together like this. When I touch you, I’m touching you because I want to make you happy. When I kiss you, I’m kissing you because you have the most incredible mouth I’ve ever seen and you know I can’t not kiss it. And when I make love to you—I’m doing exactly that. I’m making love to you because I’m in love with you. The negative connotation you’ve been associating with physical touch your whole life doesn’t apply to me. It doesn’t apply to us. I’m touching you because I’m in love with you and for no other reason.”

  His gentle words flood my heart and ease my nerves. He kisses me softly and I relax beneath his hand—a hand that’s touching me out of nothing but love. I respond by completely dissolving into him, allowing my lips to follow his, my hands to intertwine with his, my rhythm to match his. I quickly become invested, ready to experience him because I want to and for no other reason.

  “I love you,” he whispers.

  The entire time he’s touching me, exploring me with his hands and his lips and his eyes, he continues to tell me over and over how much he loves me. And for once, I remain completely in the moment, wanting to feel every single thing he’s doing and saying to me. When he finally tosses the wrapper aside and readies himself against me, he looks down at me and smiles, then strokes the side of my face with his fingertips.

  “Tell me you love me,” he says.

  I hold his gaze with unwavering confidence, wanting him to feel the honesty in my words. “I love you, Holder. So much. And just so you know...so did Hope.”

  His eyebrows draw apart and he lets out a quick rush of air as if he’s been holding it in for thirteen years, waiting for those exact words. “Baby, I wish you could feel what that just did to me.” He immediately covers my mouth with his and the familiar, sweet mixture of him seeps into my mouth at the same moment he pushes inside of me, filling me with so much more than just himself. He fills me with his honesty, his love for me, and for a moment…he fills me with a piece of our forevers. I grasp his shoulders and move with him, feeling everything. Every single beautiful thing.

  I roll over and Holder is sitting up next to me on the bed, looking down at his phone. He shifts his focus to me when I stretch, then bends down to kiss me but I immediately turn my head.

  “Morning breath,” I mumble, crawling out of bed. Holder laughs, then returns his attention back to his phone. I somehow made it back into my t-shirt overnight, but I’m not even sure when that happened. I take it off and slip into the bathroom to shower. When I’m finished, I walk back into the room and he’s packing up our things.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, watching him fold my shirt and place it back into the bag. He looks up at me briefly, then back down to the clothes spread out on the bed.

  “We can’t stay here forever, babe. We need to figure out what you want to do.”

  I take a few steps toward him, my heart speeding up in my chest. “But…but I don’t know yet. I don’t even have anywhere to go.”

  He hears the panic in my voice and walks around the bed, slipping his arms around me. “You have me, Sky. Calm down. We can go back to my house and figure this out. Besides, we’re both still in school. We can’t just stop going and we definitely can’t live in a hotel forever.”

  The thought of going back to that town, just two miles from Karen, makes me uneasy. I’m afraid being so close to her will incite me to confront her, and I’m not ready to do that yet. I just want one more day. I want to see my old house again for one last time in hopes that it will spark more memories. I don’t want to rely on Karen to have to tell me the truth. I want to figure out as much as I can on my own.

  “One more day,” I say. “Please, let’s just stay one more day, then we’ll go. I need to try and figure this out and in order to do that, I need to go there one more time.”

  Holder puts space between us and he eyes me, shaking his head. “No way,” he says firmly. “I’m not putting you through that again. You’re not going back.”

  I place my hands on his cheeks reassuringly. “I need to, Holder. I swear I won’t get out of the car this time. I swear. But I need to see the house again before we go. I remembered so much while I was there. I just want a few more memories before you take me back and I have to decide what to do.”

  He sighs and paces the floor, not wanting to agree to my desperate plea.

  “Please,” I say, knowing he won’t be able to say no if I continue to beg. He slowly turns to the bed and picks the bags of clothes up, tossing them toward the closet.

  “Fine. I told you I would do whatever it was you felt you needed to do. But I’m not hanging all of those clothes back up,” he says, pointing to the bags by the closet.

  I laugh and rush to him, throwing my arms around his neck. “You’re the best, most understanding boyfriend in the whole wide world.”

  He sighs and returns my hug. “No, I’m not,” he says, pressing his lips to the side of my head. “I’m the most whipped boyfriend in the whole wide world.”

  Out of all the minutes in the day, we would pick the same ten minutes to sit across the street from my house that my father picks to pull up into the driveway. As soon as his car comes to a stop in front of the garage, Holder lifts his hand to his ignition to crank the car.

  I reach over and place my trembling hand on his. “Don’t leave,” I say. “I need to see what he looks like.”

  Holder sighs and forces his head into the back of his s
eat, knowing full well that we should leave, but also knowing there’s no way I’ll let him.

  I quit looking at Holder and look back at the police cruiser parked in the driveway across the street from us. The door opens and a man steps out, decked out in a uniform. His back is to us and he’s holding a cell phone up to his ear. He’s in the middle of a conversation, so he pauses in the yard and continues talking into the phone without heading inside. Looking at him, I don’t have any reaction at all. I don’t feel a single thing until the moment he turns around and I see his face.

  “Oh my, God,” I whisper aloud. Holder looks at me questioningly and I just shake my head. “It’s nothing,” I say. “He just looks…familiar. I haven’t had an image of him in my head at all but if I was to see him walking down the street, I would know him.”

  We both continue to watch him. Holder’s hands are gripping the steering wheel and his knuckles are white. I look down at my own hands and realize I’m gripping the seat belt in the same fashion.

  My father finally pulls the phone from his ear and places it into his pocket. He begins walking in our direction and Holder’s hands immediately fall back to the ignition. I gasp quietly, hoping he doesn’t somehow know we’re watching him. We both realize at the same time that my father is just headed to the mailbox at the end of the driveway, and we immediately relax.

  “Have you had enough?” Holder says through gritted teeth. “Because I can’t stay here another second without jumping out of this car and beating his ass.”

  “Almost,” I say, not wanting him to do anything stupid, but also not wanting to leave just yet. I watch as my father sorts through the mail, walking back toward the house, and for the first time it hits me.

  What if he remarried?

  What if he has other children?

  What if he’s doing this to someone else?

  My palms begin to sweat against the slick material of the seatbelt, so I release it and wipe them across my jeans. My hands begin to tremble even more than before. I suddenly can’t think of anything else other than the fact that I can’t let him get away with this. I can’t let him walk away, knowing he might be doing this to someone else. I need to know. I owe it to myself and to every single child my father comes in contact with to ensure he’s not the evil monster that’s painted in my memories. In order to know for sure, I know I need to see him. I need to speak to him. I need to know why he did what he did to me.

  When my father unlocks the front door and disappears inside, Holder lets out a huge breath.

  “Now?” He says, turning toward me.

  I know beyond a doubt he would tackle me right now if he expected me to do what I’m about to do. Just so I don’t give off any clues, I force a smile and nod. “Yeah, we can go now.”

  He places his hand back on the ignition. At the same time he turns his wrist to crank it, I release my seat belt, swing open the door and run. I run across the street and across my father’s front yard, all the way to the porch. I never even hear Holder coming up behind me. He doesn’t make a noise as he wraps his arms around me and physically lifts me off my feet, carrying me back down the steps. He’s still carrying me and I’m kicking him, trying to pry his arms from around my stomach.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He doesn’t put me down, he just continues to dominate my strength while he carries me across the yard.

  “Let go of me right now Holder or I’ll scream! I swear to God, I’ll scream!”

  With that threat, he spins me around to face him and he shakes my shoulders, glaring at me with utter disappointment. “Don’t do this, baby. You don’t need to face him again, not after what he’s done. I want you to give yourself more time.”

  I look up at him with an ache in my heart that I’m sure is clearly seen in my eyes. “I have to know if he’s doing this to anyone else. I need to know if he has more kids. I can’t just let it go, knowing what he’s capable of. I have to see him. I have to talk to him. I need to know that he’s not that man anymore before I can allow myself to get back in that car and just drive away.”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t do this. Not yet. We can make a few phone calls. We’ll find out whatever we can online about him first. Please, Sky.” He slides his hands from my shoulders to my arms and urges me toward his car. I hesitate, still adamant that I need to see him face to face. Nothing I find out about him online will tell me what I can gain from just hearing his voice or looking him in the eyes.

  “Is there a problem here?”

  Holder and I both snap our heads in the direction of the voice. My father is standing at the base of the porch steps. He’s eyeing Holder, who still has a firm grip on my arms. “Young lady, is this man hurting you?”

  The sound of his voice alone makes my knees buckle. Holder can feel me weakening, so he pulls me against his chest. “Let’s go,” he whispers, wrapping his arm around me and ushering me forward, back toward his car.

  “Don’t move!”

  I freeze, but Holder continues to try and push me forward with more urgency.

  “Turn around!” My father’s voice is more demanding this time. Holder pauses right along with me now, both of us knowing the ramifications of ignoring the directions of a cop.

  “Play it off,” Holder says into my ear. “He might not recognize you.”

  I nod and inhale a deep breath, then we both turn around slowly. My father is several feet away from the house now, closing in on us. He’s eyeing me hard, walking toward me with his hand on his holster. I dart my eyes to the ground, because his face is full of recognition and it terrifies me. He stops several feet from us and pauses. Holder tightens his grip around me and I continue to stare at the ground, too scared to even breathe.

  “Princess?”

  “Don’t you fucking touch her!”

  Holder is yelling and there’s pressure under my arms. His voice is close, so I know he’s holding me. I drop my hands to my sides and feel grass between my fingers.

  “Baby, open your eyes. Please.” Holder’s hand is caressing the side of my face. I slowly open my eyes and look up. He’s looking down over me, my father hovering right behind him. “It’s okay, you just passed out. I need you to stand up. We need to leave.”

  He pulls me to my feet and keeps his arm around my waist, practically doing the standing for me.

  My father is right in front of me now, staring. “It is you,” he says. He glances at Holder, then back to me. “Hope? Do you remember me?” His eyes are full of tears.

  Mine aren’t.

  “Let’s go,” Holder says again. I resist his pull and step out of his grasp. I look back at my father…at a man who is somehow portraying emotions like he once must have loved me. He’s full of shit.

  “Do you?” he says again, taking another step closer. Holder inches me back with each step closer my father gets. “Hope, do you remember me?”

  “How could I forget you?”

  The irony is, I did forget him. Completely. I forgot all about him and the things he did to me and the life I had here. But I don’t want him to know that. I want him to know that I remember him, and every single thing he ever did to me.

  “It’s you,” he says, fidgeting his hand down at his side. “You’re alive. You’re okay.” He pulls out his radio, I’m assuming in an attempt to call in the report. Before his finger can even press the button, Holder reaches out and knocks the radio out of his hand. It falls to the ground and my father bends down and grabs it, then takes a defensive step back, his hand resting on his holster again.

  “I wouldn’t let anyone know she’s here if I were you,” Holder says. “I doubt you would want the fact that you’re a fucking pervert to be front page news.”

  All the color immediately washes from my father’s face and he looks back at me with fear in his eyes. “What?”He’s looking at me in disbelief. “Hope, whoever took you…they lied to you. They told you things about me that weren’t true.” He’s closer now and his eyes are desperate and pleading
. “Who took you, Hope? Who was it?”

  I take a confident step toward him. “I remember everything you did to me. And if you just give me what I’m here for, I swear I’ll walk away and you’ll never hear from me again.”

  He continues to shake his head, disbelieving the fact that his daughter is standing right in front of him. I’m sure he’s also trying to process the fact that his whole life is now in jeopardy. His career, his reputation, his freedom. If it were possible, his face grows even paler when he realizes that he can’t deny it any longer. He knows I know.

  “What is it you want?”

  I look toward the house, then back to him again. “Answers,” I say. “And I want anything you have that belonged to my mother.”

  Holder has a death grip on my waist again. I reach down and grip his hand with mine, just needing the reassurance that I’m not alone right now. My confidence is quickly fading with each moment being spent in my father’s presence. Everything about him, from his voice to his facial expressions to his movements, makes my stomach ache.

  My father glances at Holder briefly, then turns to look at me again. “We can talk inside,” he says quietly, his eyes darting around to the houses surrounding us. The fact that he appears nervous now only proves that he’s weighed his options and he doesn’t have very many to choose from. He nudges his head toward the front door and begins making his way up the steps.

  “Leave your gun,” Holder says.

  My father pauses, but doesn’t turn around. He slowly reaches to his side and removes his gun. He places it gently on the steps of the porch, then begins to ascend the stairs.

  “Both of them,” Holder says.

  My father pauses again before reaching the door. He bends down to his ankle and lifts his pant leg, then removes that gun as well. Once both guns are out of his reach, he walks inside, leaving the door open for us. Before I step inside, Holder spins me around to face him.

  “I’m staying right here with the door open. I don’t trust him. Don’t go any further than the living room.”

  I nod and he kisses me quick and hard, then releases me. I step into the living room and my father is sitting on his couch, his hands clasped in front of him. He’s staring down at the floor. I walk to the seat nearest me and sit on the edge of it, refusing to relax into it. Being in this house and in his presence is causing my mind to clutter and my chest to tighten. I take several slow breaths, attempting to calm my fear.

  I use the moment of silence between us to find something in his features that resemble mine. The color of his hair, maybe? He’s much taller than me and his eyes, when he’s able to look at me, are dark green, unlike mine. Other than the caramel color of his hair, I look