Losing Hope

by Michelle Windsor

  “I can text some ideas later.”

  The rest of the ride was filled with light chatter and music on the radio. As they entered the airport, Hope directed him to the private hanger where the plane was located. She instructed him to park the truck outside the entrance, indicating someone would arrive later to retrieve and store the vehicle for her until the next time she visited.

  “This is pretty surreal.” He scratched at his stubble as he looked out at the hanger. “I can’t say I’ve ever flown on a private jet before.”

  “Please, don’t feel weird.” She reached over and took the hand scratching at his face, grasping it in hers. “It’s the company plane. I’m just lucky enough to be able to use it from time to time.”

  “Still weird.” he grumbled back.

  She squeezed his hand lightly before letting go. “Come on. Let’s get our stuff and board so we can head home.”

  “Leave the keys?” he asked.

  “Yep.” She reached for her purse, and they both moved to open their doors. When they met around the back of the truck, he opened the hatch and grabbed their bags then followed her inside the hanger.

  As they approached, Glenn strode over, a wide smile on his face, and greeted them. “Hope! You look wonderful!” His eyes darted briefly to Gage and then back to her. “I take it the weekend treated you well?”

  She felt her cheeks heat as realization sunk in at how the situation might appear to someone else. “Hi, Glenn. Yes, the weekend was just perfect.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” He stretched his hand out to Gage. “Glenn Masters. I’m the captain and will be flying you home this morning.”

  Gage grasped Glenn’s hand, giving it a firm shake. “Gage Flynn. Appreciate the ride.”

  “My pleasure.” Glenn reached for the bags Gage was carrying. “Can I take those for you?”

  “Uh, sure.” He shrugged the bags off his shoulder and handed them over. “Thanks.”

  “You two are welcome to board. We can take off as soon as you’re settled. All pre-flight checks are complete.”

  “Thanks, Glenn.” Hope reached her hand out and slid it into Gage’s, twining her fingers through his as she turned and led them to the plane.

  He leaned down and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek, a low chuckle escaping as he murmured, “Fucking surreal.”

  They climbed the stairs and boarded the jet. She led him through the entry into the main cabin, where he stopped short, jerking her hand as he did. “Whoa.”

  She turned and, seeing the awe on his face, stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him. “Too bad the flight is only an hour and a half. I could have introduced you to the mile-high club otherwise.”

  His gaze snapped down to hers, the lushness of the cabin forgotten, a wicked grin appearing. “Oh, I think that’s more than enough time to make that happen.” He captured her lips in a searing kiss, his large hands cupping her face to his.

  “Oh!” A startled voice came from behind them. “Excuse me, Miss Yorke! I had no idea you’d boarded. I’ll come back in just a moment.”

  Two things happened simultaneously, both unexpected. Gage’s entire body stiffened in her arms as he pulled back harshly and held her at arm’s length, a horrified look on his face. “What did she call you?”

  She wasn’t sure who to address first, Sylvia or Gage, but he solved that problem when he shook her lightly, demanding a reply through gritted teeth. “Answer me, Hope.”

  Confusion swirled in her mind. Why was he so upset? And had she not told him her full name throughout the entirety of the weekend? She couldn’t recall. And why would it even matter? She stammered out a bewildered reply. “She called me Miss Yorke. Hope Yorke; that’s my name.”

  She watched as he staggered back a step, his face paling as he inhaled a sharp breath and then, under his breath, uttered, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  She countered and stepped toward him, reaching out as she did, baffled by his reaction. “Gage, what’s wrong?”

  Both of his arms flew out in front of him, hands up flat. “Stop, Hope. Just stay there for a minute.”

  She paused mid-stride and froze in place, a look of shock and hurt appearing on her face as she demanded an answer. “What is it? Tell me!”

  He shook his head in disbelief, staring up at the ceiling as he raked his fingers through his hair. “Yorke Publishing. That’s where you work? Robert Yorke is your father?” He brought dark eyes down to meet hers. “How did I not put the pieces together? You did say you worked for one of the largest publication houses in the city.”

  “I don’t understand.” She tried to take a step closer, but he shook his head no. “What difference does this make? How do you know my father?”

  “I don’t.” He wiped a hand down his face in frustration. “Only by association.”

  “Gage, you’re not making any sense.” Her voice was beginning to shake with anxiety.

  A look of utter sadness swept down his face and filled his eyes as he looked at her. “I’m so sorry, Hope. I can’t do this.” Then he turned and walked to the exit of the plane.

  “What?” Hope’s heart literally stopped in her chest, and a cold wave flushed down her entire body before realization smacked her in the face and had her running after him. He was already at the bottom of the steps and asking Glenn for his bags by the time she was at the exit door.

  “Gage!” She called to him and started down the stairs after him. He looked up at her, a grimace on his face, as he motioned for Glenn to go get his bags. She was shaking when she reached him and grabbed onto his hand, her voice pleading as she spoke. “Please, tell me what’s happening. I don’t understand how my father has anything to do with us. Why are you leaving?”

  His grip tightened around her small fingers as he pulled her into an embrace. His shoulders drew up, and his chest expanded as he took a deep breath against her hair and exhaled heavily. His hands moved up to the side of her face, which he held gently as he pulled back from her. His brow was furrowed, his eyes crinkled in pain, as he rested his forehead against hers. “Please, Hope, know this isn’t your fault. I’m so sorry.” He brushed a kiss against her lips as he released his hold on her and then turned abruptly, grabbing his bags from Glenn as he strode toward the hanger’s exit.

  Hope stood transfixed, her fingertips resting where his lips had just been, tears rolling down her face. She gasped when he stopped suddenly and spun back toward her.

  His hand raked through his hair, and he shook his head as if he was having an internal argument, before he finally looked at her. “Ask your father what really happened to your mother.” Then he turned and stomped out of the terminal.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It had been two days, and Hope hadn’t heard a peep from Gage. She had texted multiple times, called, and left two voicemail messages. She had even gone as far as having her driver take her to his address in the village, only to have him bring her back home without getting out of the car.

  Her father was out of town on business in Miami until the following day, so asking him any questions, at least in person, wasn’t possible until then. Discussing her mother’s death, and trying to determine how it was connected to Gage, was definitely something that had to be done in person.

  In the meantime, she worked from her apartment instead of going into the office. She’d been wearing the same pajamas she crawled into when she arrived home on Tuesday and couldn’t remember the last time she’d brushed her teeth. Her eyes felt permanently swollen from the random bouts of tears she would break into every time she thought of Gage. And there was always an open bottle of red wine sitting on her counter, keeping the glass that never seemed to leave her hand full.

  She missed him. Her body physically ached to feel his touch and hear his voice again. She didn’t even have a picture of him because he was the one who always had the camera. So, instead, she’d spent hours browsing his photography website and, of course, doing Google searches to find any information s
he could on him. And why wasn’t he on Facebook? Wasn’t everybody and their goddamn mother on Facebook these days?

  She’d watched For Love of the Game at least four times and tried to remember the parts Gage laughed at, or poked fun at her for tearing up at, and every single time, she ended up in tears. She was torturing herself, but she was at a loss. She’d been with him only four days, but the emptiness she felt was in a spectrum completely different to what she felt when she broke up with Dylan. Love really did suck.

  Her phone rang, causing her to practically jump out of her skin. It was after seven in the evening, so she knew it couldn’t be work. Was he finally reaching out to her? She jumped up from the couch, red wine sloshing out of her glass as she did, and ran to the counter where her phone sat. Swiping it off the counter to look at the caller ID, her heart sank and then instantly started beating furiously. It was her father.

  Using her finger, she selected the green accept button and put the phone to her ear, her voice cracking as she answered. “Daddy?”

  “Hope?” Alarm was immediately evident in his tone. “What’s wrong, dear?”

  “Are you still coming home tomorrow?” She sniffled and then inhaled deeply to try and calm herself.

  “Yes, I should be back in the city around seven. What’s wrong, darling?” She could hear him shifting papers in the back ground. He was always working.

  “I need to talk to you about Mommy.”

  “What about your mother?” The movement on the other end of the phone quieted.

  “About how she died. We’ve never really talked about it, and I have some questions.”

  There as a long pause before she heard a deep sigh come from the other end of the phone. “Why now, Hope? It’s been years since your mother passed.”

  “Because now it matters. I’ve met someone, and when he found out who you are, who my father is, he said he couldn’t be with me. He said to ask you about how Mother died and then I would understand.”

  “Hope, this doesn’t make any sense. What would your mother have to do with any boy you’ve met?” Annoyance was starting to lace the very edges of his voice, a warning to her that she was moving into uncomfortable territory for him.

  “I don’t know, Daddy. That’s why I want to talk to you.” She took a sip of her wine and continued. “Can we meet for dinner tomorrow when you’re back? You can come here if you’d like.”

  “No, come to the house. I’ll have Meg prepare something for us. Is seven-thirty all right with you?” Meghan was his live-in housekeeper and catered to his every need.

  “Of course. Thank you, Daddy.” She blinked away the tears that were pricking at her eyes, yet again, this time in relief that she might actually get some answers.

  “You don’t have to thank me, my dearest. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She could hear him walking somewhere now and knew he must be on his way to dinner.

  “See you then. Love you, Dad.” She was about to end the call when she heard his voice again.

  “Hope, what’s the boy’s name? The one who told you to ask about your mother.”

  She laughed lightly at his use of the word boy. “Daddy, I’m not a little girl anymore, so you should probably stop referring to the men I date as boys.”

  “Well, you’ll always be a little girl in my eyes, so you’re just going to have to deal.”

  She could hear the smile in his voice, and for the first time in days, a small smile formed on her lips. “His name is Gage. Gage Flynn. He’s originally from Pennsylvania.”

  “Did you say Flynn?” he questioned, a new sense of urgency present.

  “Yes, do you know him?” Her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out how in the world they could possibly know each other.

  “No.” His reply was instant and curt. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.” And then silence.

  She turned to look at the phone and saw indeed that the call had ended. What in the ever-loving-hell was going on?

  Gage slammed the door behind him, dropping his bags to the floor, and walked directly to the fridge and grabbed a beer. Twisting the top off gruffly, he brought the bottle to his lips and emptied it in four long pulls. He turned, tossed the bottle in the trash, grabbed another out of the fridge, and repeated the same process. This time, though, when the second bottle was empty, he gripped it tightly before hurling it across the room, shattering it into a hundred pieces as it slammed into the wall.

  “Fuck!” He reached into the fridge and grabbed a third beer. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuck!”

  This time, he took a single pull and walked out of the kitchen, into his living room, and plopped down on his couch. It was only eleven thirty in the morning, but the last twenty-four hours had been a living hell. After walking away from Hope in the hanger, he made his way to the main airport terminal and tried to get a commercial flight back to the city.

  Every flight, from all three airlines, was booked going out that day, so he was listed as standby. When a flight still hadn’t opened up by six that evening, he’d opted to take a nine-pm flight to New Jersey instead. Of course, given his track record for the day, the plane had mechanical difficulties and had to divert to Boston and land there.

  All of Boston’s flights to Jersey and New York for the rest of the night were booked, so he ended up sleeping on the floor in the terminal until this morning, when he finally got on a damn flight. He shook his head and took another long pull from his beer when he heard his phone ding. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out, his heart sinking when he saw the notification for a text, the fifth one that day, from Hope Angel Yorke.

  He was afraid to read anything she had sent, afraid he would push all the reasons he shouldn’t call her aside and just do it. Because, Jesus, he fucking missed hearing her voice. He missed feeling her in his arms. He couldn’t believe his goddamn luck. Of all the women he could have met and fallen for, it had to be Robert Yorke’s daughter. He lifted the bottle and banged it against his forehead in frustration before taking another drink.

  Gage woke up a couple hours later to his phone ringing, his empty beer bottle clattering onto the floor as he rose from the couch to answer it. Hope Angel Yorke appeared on the screen, turning his gut ice cold. Instead of answering, he stood there holding the phone and waited to see if she would leave a message. After what seemed an eternity, his phone dinged and ‘you have a voicemail waiting’ appeared on the screen.

  Unable to stand the distance from her any longer, he swiped right to listen to the message. His heart beat furiously as soon as her voice came over the speaker. “Um, Gage? Hi. It’s Hope, the girl you spent the most amazing weekend of my life with. I’m not sure what happened or what’s happening or why you won’t talk to me. Is it weird that I miss you so much?”

  There was a long pause, and he thought the message was over, but it suddenly continued as she let out a long, stuttered sigh and began speaking again, this time with obvious tears in her voice. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. Will you please talk to me? Or text me? Please. Did I tell you that I miss you?”

  This time, the message was over. He stared at the phone for only a moment before he hit the play button again. As hard as it was to listen to the sadness and confusion pouring from her, he could not stop himself from wanting to hear her voice again. After the fourth playback, he jammed the phone in his pocket, grabbed his keys and helmet off the counter, and stormed out his front door.

  Flying down the stairs and out the entrance, he turned right and headed into the side alley where he kept his bike parked. He pulled his helmet on as he threw a leg over the leather seat and jammed the key into the ignition. He pressed the start switch and pulled the clutch into gear, revving out and into traffic.

  After an hour of driving around aimlessly, he pulled into the parking lot across from the warehouse his friend had converted into a gym. After securing his bike and paying the attendant, he strode across the street to the entrance and made his way inside. He was greeted by the spun
ky little redhead that often manned the reception desk. His eyes scanned over the back wall, taking in the now familiar name, Baker-Landon-Rose Memorial Gym, and silently said the same small prayer he always did when he came here, for those who had sacrificed their lives.

  “Heya, Handsome.” The redhead smiled widely. “What can I help you with today? You want to box?”

  He shook his head. “Actually, I was looking for Ben. Is he around?”

  She nodded while picking up the phone. “Sure is. He’s out back with his brother. Let me see if he’s available.”

  “Thanks.” His gaze roamed around the gym, watching various workouts and boxing matches in progress as she spoke on the phone.

  She hung up and looked his way. “He said he’s coming up. His brother is on his way out, so timing is perfect.”

  “Great, thanks, Stacy.” He gave her a small nod and moved over to the seating area to wait.

  Not more than two minutes later, he saw Ben’s impressive form, and who he assumed must be his brother, walking his way. Ben’s face broke into a wide smile when his eyes fell on Gage, and his pace picked up. When he was close enough, he extended his hand, grabbing his in a firm grip, followed by one of those manly side hugs.

  “Hey, man! What brings you to my neck of the woods? Haven’t seen you in ages.” Ben’s face was still graced with a welcoming smile, but a touch of concern had his brows raised.

  “Just wanted to talk to you about a couple things. Didn’t know if you’d be around and was out on the bike so figured I’d stop by.” He turned to Ben’s brother and extended his hand in greeting. “Gage Flynn. Served overseas with your brother.”

  He was met with a firm handshake. “Drew Sapphire. Always a pleasure to meet one of Ben’s friends.”

  “Hey! This might actually be cosmic intervention,” Ben interjected and pointed at Gage while looking at Drew. “Gage is a photographer. Maybe he could help you out Saturday?”

  Gage tilted his head and looked at Drew. “What’s happening on Saturday?”

  “We had a new hotel open in the financial district, down on Broadway, and the celebration gala is this Saturday. Our regular event photographer had a family emergency and just cancelled less than thirty minutes ago. Interested?”