by J. E. Parker
The minuscule hold I still had on my control snapped.
“I realize you don’t understand!” I yelled, my voice echoing off the bathroom tile. “Trust me, I fucking get it.”
She jerked back as if I’d slapped her and I knew I’d messed up.
Chin wobbling, she dropped her gaze to the floor before turning around, giving me her back. “You better go see what Chris wants. Something may be wrong.”
Guilt consumed me, eating away at what was left of my soul. “Hope, I—”
“Evan, just go.” Her tone was as icy as my demeanor. “Someone may need you.”
I wanted to say that she needed me too, but I didn’t dare. Not after the way I’d just yelled at her. Christ knows, if I pushed her anymore she’d likely explode, and if that happened, she might walk out the door... for good.
I slipped on my socks and boots and forced myself not to look at her again.
“I’ll lock the door.”
The last thing I heard as I moved down the hall was the sound of Hope’s muffled cries, and for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last week, I felt like the biggest piece of shit on the face of the earth.
Just like my fight name suggested, I crushed everything I touched.
One beautiful piece at a time.
Nineteen
Evan
It was silent when I stepped back into the apartment thirty minutes later.
After handling a bullshit delivery downstairs—which Chris could’ve easily dealt with—I ran straight back upstairs intent on fixing the mess I’d created.
Or at least, attempting to fix it.
I dropped my keys on the coffee table and headed down the hall.
Standing outside her room, I raised my hand to tap on Hope’s closed bedroom door. I stopped short when I heard her sniffle. Frustrated, I leaned my head against the wood and whispered her name. “Hope.”
I was shocked when she answered. I’d been expecting her to ignore me. “Just open it, Evan. We both know you’re planning to, anyway.
She was right. I would have broken it down to get to her.
I opened the door the barest of inches and peered at her through the small gap.
She stood in front of her dresser, her arms crossed over her flat belly as she stared at herself in the mirror. I glanced at her reflection, and the sight made me want to beat my own ass with a baseball bat.
I could always call Grandmama or Shelby. They’d do it for me.
Puffy face. Swollen eyes. Red nose. It was obvious Hope had been crying again.
I always make her cry.
“Can I come in?” I asked, my heart in my throat.
She hesitated before nodding. “Yeah.”
I stepped inside and crossed the room. Coming to a standstill behind her, I placed my hands on her hips. Our eyes met in the mirror. “We need to talk.”
Her eyes slid closed. “I think I’m all talked out for the night.” Her chin wobbled. “Please… I’m too tired to fight with you.”
Feeling like a complete bastard, I spun her around, bringing us face-to-face.
When I saw what she was wearing, I smiled. “You steal that from my room?” I asked, pointing at my high school football jersey.
Her eyes opened again. “No, but somehow it ended up in my laundry basket.” She unwrapped her arms from her body and ran her hands down the front of the jersey.
My jersey.
“Figured I’d keep it. Finders keepers and all that jazz.” Her smile—small as it was—was forced. “What do you need, Evan? I’m tired.” She glanced back at her unmade bed. “And I’d just like to get some sleep."
I looked from her freshly cleaned face to her damp, unbrushed hair before nodding toward the bed. “Sit down.” Her eyes narrowed as I grabbed a comb off her dresser.
When she didn’t move, I lifted her into my arms and carried her across the room.
I sat on the edge of the mattress and placed her sideways on my lap.
“Ev,” she said, her eyes filled with sadness. “What are you doing?”
My reply was simple. “I’m taking care of my girl.” Without ever breaking eye contact with her, I ran the comb through her hair, careful not to pull too hard when I found a tangle.
“Your girl?” She replied after a few minutes. “You sure that’s what I am?”
My shoulders dropped with a sigh. “Yeah, baby, you are.”
Finished detangling her long locks, I pointed at the hair tie on her wrist. “Give me that.”
She slid it off without questioning what I was doing. I placed my hands on her hips again and twisted her around so that her back was pressed against my chest. Then, I combed her hair away from her face before braiding it.
“You’re braiding my hair?” Despite the sadness lining her voice, her tone held a hint of amusement. “You used to do that when I was little and couldn’t do it myself.”
I remembered. “I know,” I replied, chuckling. “You should’ve seen my Madre’s face when I asked her to teach me how to French Braid. I was six, I think.”
Hope giggled. “I would’ve liked to see it.” She paused, exhaling. “I miss your mom. I think about her all the time.”
“She misses you too. Every time I talk to her, the first thing she asks is how you’re doing and if I’m treating you right.” My jaw clenched. “She’d beat me with a shoe if she found out how much I make you cry.”
It was the truth. If my Madre ever found out the truth about Hope and I’s relationship, she would board a plane intent on tearing me to pieces. Like Brantley, she loved Hope almost as much as I did. In her head, she was her already her daughter-in-law.
“I wish your parents hadn’t moved to Florida when they retired. It would be nice to see them more often.” Shoulders relaxed, Hope leaned closer. “But wait until I tell Shelby about you fixing my hair. She’ll never let you live it down.”
I chuckled. “Blondie won’t say shit. I’ve got enough dirt on her to bury her smartass under a pile of embarrassment so heavy it’ll suffocate her.”
Hope laughed. It was a beautiful sound. “What kind of dirt?”
I secured the hair tie around the bottom of her braid and moved it over her shoulder before pressing my lips to her spine. “Let’s just say her and Anthony aren’t too careful about where they have sex.”
“Nooooo,” Hope replied, looking over her shoulder at me. Her eyes danced with amusement, making me smile. “You saw them having sex?”
I nodded. “Twice. I think they both forget that even though residents aren’t allowed up here, there are still cameras on the third floor.”
Hope’s eyes widened. “Why does that not surprise me? I mean, I can see Shelby maybe being an exhibitionist. But Anthony? He seems too controlled.”
“The right woman has a way of making you lose your head.” I wrapped my arms around her belly and pulled her back into my chest. “Trust me, I know.”
She laid her head back on my shoulder and turned her face to meet mine. Her lips were so close. It took everything in me not to take her mouth with mine. “Is that what I do to you?” She paused, her eyes boring into mine. “Make you lose your head?”
I tightened my hold on her and rested my forehead against hers. “You make me irrational.” Running my fingertips up and down her side, I watched in fascination as she closed her eyes and parted her soft lips. “I never lose my head but when I’m with you…” My voice trailed off as I tried to find the right words.
Open up to her, dickhead. It’s time, the voice in my head chided.
“… When I’m with you, I can’t control my emotions. I go from zero to sixty in the blink of an eye.”
And I have a hard time fighting back the memories and guilt when I’m with you too.
Hope sighed. “We’re messed up, big guy. Both of us.”
“I know.”
Sitting up straight, she pulled away from me. Still, she remained on my lap. “Whatever this is”—she pointed from me to her—“it’s toxic.”
Again, I replied, “I know.”
“I need you to tell you something.”
My hold on her tightened. I had a feeling whatever she was about to say would rock me to the core. “It hasn't escaped me that you’re keeping secrets.”
“Hope—”
She gave me a look that begged me to be quiet. I snapped my mouth shut. “I don’t know everything that happened in Iraq, but I know there’s something you aren’t telling me.” Spinning around, she straddled my lap. “And whatever that something is, it’s eating you up with guilt.”
She leaned closer and rested her hands on my abs. Her pretty eyes found mine. “You were supposed to be my happily ever after, big guy, but I can’t do this anymore. Loving you is destroying me. I don’t want to walk away, but unless things change I’m leaving,” she whispered through the onslaught of tears pouring down her face. “Forever.”
Panic set in and my fight response kicked into overdrive.
I can’t lose her. Don’t care what I have to do…
“Hope,” I whispered her name, trying like hell to gain control of my emotions. “You can’t leave me.”
“I don’t want to,” she replied, running her hands through my hair. “But I can’t keep going on like this. I’m scared that if I do—” Closing her eyes, she tilted her face down. “I… I don’t like the person I’ve become.” Hearing her say those words broke something inside of me that I didn’t think I’d ever be able to fix. I didn’t understand how she couldn’t like, much less love herself. Beautiful, compassionate and with a heart bigger than anyone I’d ever met, she was perfect. “And I don’t like who you’ve become either.”
Her words hurt worse than a shotgun blast to the gut.
“I don’t like me either.” I placed my hands on her face and wiped away her tears. “I don’t like hurting you, little bit.” Hope’s lips thinned. I had no doubt she was just waiting for me to tell her I wasn't sure how to fix it. “But I’m fucked up, and I don’t know if I can be fixed—”
Her bottom lip trembled. “Evan—”
“No, Hope, listen”—her eyes darkened as sorrow bled into her irises—“I may be unsure if I can be fixed but I’m still going to try.” I ran my calloused thumbs over the apples of her cheeks. “I’m going to try for you.”
She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip and slid her arms around my neck. “Yeah?” She asked cautiously. “How?”
“Tomorrow morning, I’ll call Brantley,” I pressed a kiss to her jaw, “and see if he can get me an appointment with a counselor at the VA. He’s got a contact there.” She continued to nibble her lip. “It might not work, but I’m sure as hell going to give it everything I've got."
Hope smiled, and I swear to Christ the world around me shifted.
This smile wasn’t like the ones that came before it.
No, this one was real, genuine.
And it was fucking beautiful.
“You're going to do that for me?” Her eyes searched mine as I ran the tip of my finger down her small nose. “Yeah, baby, I am. But I’m also doing it for me.”
Hope’s hands down my arms before clutching my forearms. “He wouldn’t have wanted this for us.” She was right there. “If he knew how miserable we both are…” Her voice trailed off as she dropped her head. I held her tight, pouring my strength into her as she fought to find the words. After a beat or two, she looked up. “We’ve got to get better, Evan. If not for us, then for him.” Her hands cupped my jaw. “He would’ve wanted us to be happy.”
Nodding, I parted my lips and exhaled. Hope’s gaze dropped to my mouth. “He would've.”
Silence blanketed the room as we stared at each other. Her at my dry mouth and me at her beautiful hazel eyes. My hands found her sides, and she sucked in a breath at the contact. I slid them up her sides, raking my calloused palms over her sensitive flesh. The only thing separating her skin from mine was the mesh fabric of my jersey.
Her eyes flashed an emotion I’d never seen from her before.
That emotion? Lust.
I tensed, my body drawn taut, as the air around us shifted, becoming more heated.
“Hope,” I whispered her name, confused. “What’s going on, baby?”
She hesitated.
Then, “If I ask you to do something for me, will you?” She whispered in reply, shifting her weight on my lap.
“Anything.” Her face dipped closer to mine; her arms encircled my neck. “All you have to do is ask.”
Watchful eyes locked on mine, she leaned forward, pressing her chest against mine.
What the hell is going on?
Her fingers slid from the nape of my neck into my hair. “We may not in a good place right now,” she whispered, her nervousness shining bright like a beacon in the dark of night. “But can you”—she paused—“I mean, will you… make love to me?"
My entire body stilled. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I don’t think I could’ve uttered a single syllable if my life had depended on it.
Hope's face fell when she took my silence for rejection. “Nevermind.” She slid backward, trying to climb off my lap. “I thought—”
I clamped my hands down on her hips, trapping her in place. “Don’t. Move.”
She stilled.
“You want me to make love to you?” I asked, needing her to repeat the words. I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly. For a brief second, I wondered if I was losing my mind and imagining things.
Am I having delusions now?
This time, my girl didn’t hesitate in speaking. “I do,” she replied, chewing on her bottom lip again. Lips moving closer, her sweet breath wafted over my face. “So what do you say, big guy?” Her gorgeous hazel eyes plead with me to say yes. “Will you make love to me? Just this once?”
Just this once my ass.
I grabbed her by her hips and flipped her onto her back on the bed.
She squeaked in surprise.
“Your wish is my command, beautiful girl.”
Without wasting another second, I dipped my head and pressed my lips to hers.
Twenty
Hope
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
Evan’s muscle-packed body hovered over mine. Breaking our kiss, he asked, “You sure you want this?”
“Yes.” It was the truth.
At that moment, I’d wanted nothing more.
Since our fight earlier, images of Ryker, broken and bleeding, had taken up permanent residence in my head. Heart-breaking and too painful to endure, I needed Evan to make them disappear; I needed him to replace the horrid flashes with his scent, with his touch, with his possession.
I want him to make me forget the pain.
I want him to make me remember the good.
I want him to make me feel alive, something I haven’t felt in three years.
Evan’s huge hands cupped my jaw. “Hope,” he groaned. “You’re killing me.” He closed his eyes and inhaled, no doubt fighting for calm. One look at him and I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he was close to losing control.
Probably because I’m closing to losing it too.
Lust and desire raced through me, scalding my veins and heating my skin.
How did I go from being an emotional basket case to a needy pile of mush in three seconds flat?
The situation, along with my shift in demeanor, made little sense and was a tad unnerving. Still, I didn’t give a crap, because at that moment all I wanted was Evan. I wanted him close, wanted him touching me. I wanted his taste on my lips and his smell on my fingertips.
I wanted to pretend, if only for a moment, that he was really mine.
I’d deal with the fallout of my actions later, but right then, I was prepared to throw caution to the wind and take what I’d always wanted.
Him.
Chest rising and falling in rapid succession, I whispered, “Look at me.”
Surprisingly, he listened, something he rarely did.
Gaze
s locked, I parted my lips. “Want to know something, big guy?” His jaw ticked. It was the only answer I needed. “Even though you try to hide it, I still see your eyes fill with desire when you look at me.” Shifting beneath him, I hitched my leg over the back of his thighs, pulling him closer. His body tensed but he didn’t fight the move or pull away. “I’ve seen the way your gaze rakes over my body when you think I’m not looking.”
Just thinking about all the times I’d looked up just in time to find Evan’s desire-filled gaze locked on me made my skin tingle. So many times had I caught him staring, looking his fill.
And I looked my fill too.
I slid a second leg around him before wrapping my fingers around his wrist. Blowing out a shaky breath, I slid his hand down my throat and over my chest. Resting his hand on my breast. At the feel, I arched my back, pressing myself against his palm. Evan hissed, but he didn’t pull away. I barely bit back a needy moan.
“And I know which curves are your favorite.”
I tilted my head back and pressed a lingering kiss to the pulse point in his neck. His salty skin twitched beneath my lips. “You may not think I see you, but I do.”
Unable to resist his pull, I kissed him again.
His taste lingered, and like a drug, it made me crave more.
I shifted again, this time lifting my hips. I wanted to feel him against me, and I desperately needed to ease the ache building deep inside of me. Closing my eyes, I arched my back again. “I hear your unspoken thoughts.” More shifting, more lifting, more seeking. “I know the desires you crave.”
Evan’s hand moved, his fingers tracing the swell of my breast.
I moaned in response.
I’d waited so long…
Please don’t stop.
I slipped my hands under his shirt and scored his concrete abs with my blunt nails. “I know all about your fantasies because I have them too.”
Above me, Evan froze.
“When I’m in the shower, when I’m lying in bed at night—”