Holding Onto Hope

by L. Grubb

  “Charming.” She rolls her eyes but I can see the amusement in the slight tilt of her mouth. We both stand and she moves to the side of the bed closest to the window. “Um, have you got a tshirt I can wear or something?”

  “Sure.” I open one of the five drawers pressed against the wall and pull out a long NFL tshirt. “American football is my thing.”

  “Mine too.” Her face lights up and I throw her the shirt. “Thanks.” She quickly undresses and throws the tshirt over her head so quick, I barely caught a glimpse of the soft skin of her belly. Climbing in, she turns to look at me standing like a complete dick at the end of the bed. “Where will you be sleeping?”

  “There.” I point to the recliner chair in the corner of the room next to the window.

  “You can sleep in the bed you know. I don’t bite.” She smiles before placing her head on the pillow, tucking her hands underneath her head and closing her eyes. “Besides, it’s bloody freezing in here and I’ll need the extra warmth.”

  A war of debate is brewing in my brain. I hardly know the girl and she doesn’t know me either. I guess when you’ve cried on a man, you can trust them. That’s how women think, right? Fuck knows, women are still a complete mystery to me.

  My eyes go from the bed to the chair, back to the bed again and I bite my lip with indecision. I don’t want her to think I’m pushing my luck or taking advantage. I would never touch a woman without her permission anyway.

  “Mack, stop over-thinking and get in the fucking bed. Doesn’t have to mean it’s sexual, you know. Though you’re a tough ass biker, I guess you don’t get into a bed with a girl without screwing them. If it makes you so uncomfortable, sleep in the recliner but I honestly don’t mind.” Her voice is sleepy, and I know it’ll be only a matter of minutes before she’s sound asleep.

  Sighing, I go back to the chest of drawers and pull out some drawstring jogging bottoms and quickly change before climbing into bed behind her. Her scent, so strong and tantalising, creeps up my nose and my dick twitches. It’s going to be a fucking long night.

  Hope

  My eyes feel glued shut, my body feels like I’ve gone a couple of rounds with Mike Tyson, and my stomach feels so empty it hurts. I groan into the pillow, not wanting to wake up. My brain is hammering a beat in my head and it hurts so fucking bad. Whose good idea was it to throw back tequila shots like they’re water last night? That’s right, Amo. She’s a bad influence on me, that’s for sure. But I honestly can’t remember the last time I had so much fun; just let my hair down and not worry about the shit I have to deal with.

  I feel the bed shift behind me and I freeze. What the hell happened last night. Taking a quick assessment of my body, I realise I’m still fully dressed but without my shoes. The butterflies that had taken over my belly have now settled and the panic eases. Nothing happened. But who is in the bed with me? Last night is so fucking fuzzy.

  “Hope?” Mack. It’s just Mack. Thank the Gods above it isn’t a random brother. I honestly have no clue what the heck happened last night. The last thing I remember is falling off my stool at the bar. After that… it’s a blank. “Do you want a coffee?” His voice is deep and husky from sleep and it makes those darn butterflies fly about in my tummy again. Why? I hardly know the guy. He seems sweet and all but he’s still dangerous; all MC clubs are, right? That’s what my traitorous father always told me.

  “Um… yeah, please.” I don’t look at him. I keep my head buried firmly in the pillow. Shame and embarrassment force me to stay completely frozen in the bed. “Strong, one sugar.”

  “You okay?” I can hear the amusement in his voice and I’m not sure whether I want to be pissed at the fact he’s silently laughing at me or feel even more embarrassed than I already am, if that’s even possible.

  “Yep. Just dandy, thanks. Probably better than I deserve really.” I groan again into the pillow and silently tell Mack to leave the damn room so I can get up and make myself look less like a drunk and more like a respectable woman.

  “Is something the matter?” Again, he’s stalling at the door and I’m mentally smashing my head against the wall.

  “No. Just hungover.” Simple. No long-winded reply. Hopefully he’ll get the damn hint and bugger off already.

  A beat of silence goes by and I can hear his breathing, sense his presence. I swear, this morning he’s like a bee up my arse. Finally, he says, “Okay. I’ll be right back with the coffee.” I throw a thumbs up in the air and wait, impatiently, for the door to click shut.

  As soon as I hear the click, I throw the covers off and scramble off the bed, landing with a thud on the floor. Forgoing the act of standing, I crawl quickly along the floor and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me and flicking the lock. I lean against the door, taking some deep breaths. Fuck. No way was I ever going to let someone as hot as Mack see me in this state. Regardless of the fact he’s not into me anyway, he’s just doing his job; protecting me from my dad’s mistakes.

  I stand, slowly, and steady myself with one hand against the door, waiting for the dizziness to pass and my stomach to settle. I swear to God, I’m never drinking tequila again.

  When the dizziness passed and the sickness settles, I go to the sink and unwrap the pink toothbrush from it packaging before vigorously brushing my teeth. Nothing worse then the feel of your teeth after a night on the piss.

  I look in the mirror mounted on the wall and almost squeal in horror at the sight of my bird-nest hair. Holy mother of God, how the hell did it end up this bad? Not that I can remember when or how I got into bed so I can’t imagine what happened in the blank space that I have from last night. Though I do notice I’m wearing an NFL tshirt that’s miles too big for me.

  Completely mortified, I hunt through the cabinet next to the mirror and find aspirin, vitamins and Lord knows what else and spot a hair brush at the top behind a box of Durex. At least Mack practices safe sex… not that I care. At all.

  It takes about ten minutes to completely brush my hair free of knots and tangles and shove it back into a messy bun. Grabbing the flannel, I use the soap and warm water before scrubbing the shit out of my face to rid myself of yesterday’s make up that managed to go all over my face during the night.

  Looking back into the mirror, I sigh. That’s the best I can do without any products. Though I never really give a toss what my appearance looks like, it’s not like I’m out to impress anyone, is it?

  “Hope?” I hear my name a split second before a knock sounds on the flimsy wooden door, making me jump.

  “Just coming!” I put away the hair brush, rinse the flannel and drape it over the sink to dry and place the pink, plastic toothbrush into the cup in the corner; next to Mack’s. I stare at it like it’s a foreign object, a weird feeling coming over me. Rather domesticated, right? For two people who have only just met, have no feelings towards each other… yet we’re sharing a room, and the bed, as well as the toothbrush holder. I don’t have time to dwell, I shake my head and unlock the door, opening it wide with a soft smile on my face. “Sorry. I didn’t look so hot so had to sort myself out. I didn’t mean to take so long.”

  “It’s fine. You’re welcome to use the bathroom for as long you need, I don’t care. Though, your coffee may be a little tepid.” He frowns at the red mug on the nightstand, scratching his scruff on his chin. “Did you want me to make you a fresh one?”

  “No, no, it’s fine. You don’t need to trouble yourself.” I walk over and pick up the mug and gulp the coffee down in three long swigs. “It was perfect.”

  Mack stares at me, eyes wide and his mouth open a little. “Wow, you really like your coffee, huh?”

  “Yep. Especially after a night full of alcohol.” My face turns red. I somehow managed to get into bed somehow and knowing Mack probably helped me is a little embarrassing. “Um, I don’t really remember much of last night. The last thing I can remember before I draw a blank is falling off the stool.”

  Laughter erupts from deep within M
ack’s chest and I don’t know whether to laugh along with him to hide the embarrassment that I feel or covering my face in complete shame. “You were a right laugh, I’ll tell you that. If you’re wondering what happened before you went to sleep, don’t sweat it. You didn’t embarrass yourself and we never did anything. You were quite upset actually, about pretty much every aspect of your life.”

  “Oh God. Please don’t tell me I cried all over you like a soppy bitch?” My face feels like it’s on fire and I’m sure it looks like I’ve been burnt by it too.

  “You did. But you had every right to. I told you when you came here, Hope, you can count on me. I’ll protect you and keep you safe. I’m also a good listener. Like I said last night, not that you remember, but we all have demons that we’re not proud of. Remember, you’re not alone.” He lifts my chin so I have to face him. “Don’t be ashamed of who you are. You’re a beautiful woman. A caring one too.”

  “Don’t…” I start but he places a finger against my lips to shut me up.

  “I know it’s hard to believe in yourself when life has dealt you a shitty hand, but I’ve got you, Hope. I understand.” Mack’s words hit me right in the chest, making my heart pound against my ribcage, my ears sounding my pulse and my tummy butterflies start swirling around again. He really does care, or is it because he made a promise to my father?

  “You’re just saying that to keep your promise to my father, and I understand loyalty,” I say.

  “No. I may not know you that well, but I want to. I care for you more than you want to believe.” My heart is now completely hammering in my chest and my breathing is a little choppy.

  “That means a…” Before I can finish my sentence, he lowers his head and places a short and sweet kiss to my lips before pulling back a little.

  His eyes search mine and mine search his, though I’m unsure on what we’re looking for. But he must see what he was finding because before I can form a response, his lips crash to mine and he has me pushed against the nearest wall, his muscled physique holding me in place, my wrists are in his clasp above my head and his mouth is completely ravishing mine. All rational thought has flown out the window and all that matters is the here and now.

  He pulls away all to soon and our heavy breathing is all that’s between us as we try to catch our breaths. His forehead rests against mine and his eyes are shut, his long lashes fanning over his cheeks. He really is a handsome man and I’m one lucky bitch to have experienced a kiss from him.

  “I’m sorry. I have no idea what came over me.” He pulls away and my body is left cold and deflated.

  “Don’t. Don’t be sorry, Mack. Don’t you do that.” I don’t know whether I’m upset that he apologised for kissing the shit out of me, or angry for the same reason. “It’s not like I pushed you away. But I’m not a booty call either. I’m not into one-night stands.”

  “I would never treat you like that. Is that what you really think of me? That I’d use you for sex? Where the fuck has that come from, Hope?” He looks exasperated, appalled and a bit pissed off.

  “Well, you’re a biker, my dad always said club whores occupied the clubhouses to fuck the guys and tend to their needs. I’m not that sort of person.” I have no idea where these thoughts are coming from, but it’s better to get it out in the open now then to dwell on it.

  “We’re not all like that. I can assure you, I don’t think of you like that and I apologised because it came out of nowhere and I went for it without thinking. I like you, Hope.” There go the butterflies yet again. I swear, I’ve never had butterflies as fierce as I have since Mack came into my life. But come on, you can’t deny he’s hot, like someone straight out of GQ magazine. I’m a plain jane compared to some of the girls that walk around this place. And why would anyone want to be lumbered with me? My life is in shambles.

  I stay silent, unsure what to say. I glance off to the side so I don’t have to look at his inquisitive eyes, at the way they’re staring through my defensive walls that I so carefully erected. It makes me feel vulnerable and weak. Two things I vowed to myself I’d never be again.

  “Look at me, Hope.” His voice, husky with lust left over from the kiss, says and my eyes betray me, automatically responding and meeting his once again. “Think what you want, believe what you want, but I’m hoping that you know, deep down, that I’m not like what you think I am.” With that, he backs up and shoves his hands into his jeans pockets.

  “I only know what my father told me and what I experienced with those bastards that took me. I’ve not seen the good side of an MC clubhouse. I want to believe you, Mack, I really do. But I don’t want to get hurt.” I’m hoping I’m making sense and I see in his eyes that he understands what I’m saying. “I never want to be hurt again.”

  Within a second, he has me enveloped in his arms with his chin resting on the top of my head. He rubs small, slow, circles on the bottom of my back and the tension in my body starts to seep away. I rest the right side of my face against his chest and listen to his steady heartbeat. “Hope, please tell me what you mean by that?”

  “By what?” I mumble into his chest, forgetting whatever the hell I said to him. I’m so focused on the soft rubbing on my lower back and the beat of his heart in my ear.

  “You said ‘I never want to be hurt again’. What do you mean?” When he speaks, and my head is this position, I can hear the rumble of his deep voice in his chest; it vibrates against my cheek.

  “When I was eighteen, I got with a guy called Toby Malcom-James. I thought he was the love of my life…” I trail off, swallowing the excess saliva gathering at the back of my mouth. I’ve never told anyone about Toby and what happened, and the words are clogged in my throat. I cough lightly, trying to dislodge them. I want to be outright honest with Mack. “For the first six months, it was amazing. He brought me flowers every other day, he treated me out of the blue quite a lot and he showed he loved, cared, for me all the time. I felt like a princess. One night, he took me to a swanky hotel and with a suite and proposed to me. I had never been happier in my life. But soon after that night, and with his engagement ring wedged onto my finger, he changed. I didn’t really notice at first. I put his attitude and behaviour down to stress at work. He was a manager at some sort of financial firm and I assumed his work was tough, demanding or whatever. He’d come home to our one storey bungalow in a pissy mood, disrespect me and whatever I chose to cook that night for dinner. He started writing notes before work telling what to do for dinner, what errands to run and what needs doing at home. I just thought he was reminding me so I didn’t forget. But soon it was clothes I was wearing that were too slutty or I was just showing a little too much skin. He ended up putting clothes out in the morning for me, something he deemed appropriate.” I swallow the lump rising in my throat. Now that I’m saying it all out loud, I realise what a complete idiot I was; how naïve and ignorant I was.

  “Take your time, babe. I’m listening,” Macks says soothingly into my hair before kissing the top of my head. “Let’s sit down, yeah?” He drags me over to the bed and pulls me down next to him without releasing his arm from my waist.

  I take a deep breath in through my mouth and out through my nose. “If I did one little thing wrong or did anything he thought was wrong, then I’d be met with his increasingly bad temper. One night, I cooked a beef stew with home baked bread, but that’s not what he’d wrote on his little list that morning. He threw my granny’s sixty-year-old vase at my head, knocking me unconscious with the force of it hitting me, just bypassing my temple. I woke, confused and completely petrified. He was sat beside me with a grim expression, apologising profusely to me; promising me he’d never do anything like that again. And the stupid girl that I am, believed every word; I got completely sucked in.” I pause, rubbing the scar that was left from the glass of that precious, irreplaceable vase, remembering the blood, the pain and the six stitches I needed. “I never involved the police, told the paramedics and doctors at the hospital that I’d slipped
at home, banged into the little side table in the hallway where the vase was and it had smashed onto my head. Not sure they really believed me, but what were they supposed to do? Anyway, he was all sunshine and roses for about a week before his temper and attitude reared its ugly head again. Over the course of three years, he beat me black and blue, forced me into having sex with him and publicly humiliating me in restaurants, galas and wherever the heck we went together.”

  “Oh, Hope. How did you get away?” I can hear the anger in his voice even though I can tell he’s trying to mask it.

  “My cousin, Teddy, came around one day when he was back from Uni for two weeks – he has a spare key to my house – and walked in amidst a huge one-sided fight; in time to see Toby’s fist connect with my eye socket and me flying into the wall from the force. Teddy jumped him, beat the fuck out of him before pulling him by the scruff of his neck to the front door and literally kicked him out. Teddy, thankfully, owns a van company; they rent vans to people moving houses or clearing out spaces and so he called up one of his guys and he showed up and they cleared out the bungalow before they took me away. I ended up back at my mum’s; the shit house that’s falling to pieces, I’m sure you’ve seen the sorry state that it’s in. I ended up caring for mum when she got sick and I was there when she took her last breath. I never heard from Toby again but I did hear he got married to some hot shot reporter from New York.” I shrug and let my shoulders sag down.

  “Wow. You certainly went through some shit.” I’m sure Mack has no idea what to say but I honestly don’t mind the beat of silence. “I’m glad you got away. You cousin’s a hero.”

  “Teddy is amazing. He’s probably worried sick about me though. We usually speak every single day and he pops over to the house with groceries for me a couple of times a week so I at least don’t starve to death. Working as a carer doesn’t earn me a lot of money. But I love the people.” I bite my lip. Fucking word vomit. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go on and on.”