by Chloe Walsh
"I'm volunteering at the halfway house tomorrow night," he replied after several moments of paused silence, proving me right. "Mark had to take a raincheck. His wife's due date is sometime next week and he doesn’t want to leave her home alone at night." Shrugging, he added, "I couldn’t say no."
"Okay." I tried to hide my disappointment and failed bitterly. I wasn’t a masked person. Usually, whatever I was feeling was etched on my face. And right now, I was feeling disappointed in my husband.
Mom and Dad had hosted family night at their place every Tuesday since I was a baby. We all showed up to eat, hang out, argue, and watch movies.
It was a Carter tradition and it hurt me deeply that Jordan kept avoiding it.
How were we ever going to progress in our marriage if he wouldn’t even try and make an effort with my family?
Growing up, my dad had always made a huge deal out of the age old saying 'you made your bed, now lie in it.' Well, I had made my bed – my marital bed with Jordan. Now, all I had to do was lie in it.
"Are you mad?" he asked then, breaking me from my thoughts.
"Not mad," I whispered honestly. Just lonely…
Chapter Twenty-Three
HOPE
"Where are you going?" Annabelle asked as she stood on the porch, looking like a polished beauty queen, staring down at me.
"Where does it look like I'm going?" I snapped, pausing mid-stretch to turn and glare at her. "I'm going for a run." I thought it was pretty fucking obvious considering my attire and the fact that I was outside warming up.
"A run?" She threw her head back and laughed. "Should I get the camera?" she teased, eyes alight with mischief. "This has to be a monumental moment in your life, right? Jordan told me you hate exercising."
"Jordan has a big mouth," I muttered under my breath. "Skinny bitch."
Annabelle frowned. "What?"
I shrugged innocently. "What?"
"Well, have fun," she called out after a pause. "Call me if you get into trouble. I'll come pick you up."
"Will do," I shot back sweetly before turning my back on her and shoving my ear pods in my ears. I would rather die from sweat and dehydration than call that woman to come get me.
With the soundtrack from the movie Suicide Squad blasting through my earplugs, I embarked on my first ever agreed-to run.
However, the moment I was out of the driveway and halfway down the street, I realized this was a horrible idea. I was unfit and already out of breath, but I needed to move.
I couldn’t stay in that house another second watching Annabelle and Jordan play house with Ryder. Best friends or not, it was fucking torture to watch and I needed a temporary escape.
"Call me if you get into trouble. I'll come pick you up."
Over my dead fucking body!
Shaking my wrists out, I ran as fast as my legs could carry me.
When the hell did my life become so complicated?
My cheeks burned, my lungs protested as the fire in my body heightened to unmeasurable levels. Gasping for air, I drained the contents of my water bottle only to whimper in dismay when it was gone and my throat still felt drier than the Sahara Desert.
Breathe, Hope, just breathe.
Concentrate on the road ahead of you.
No, fuck that, just concentrate on not face planting on the road and dying!
I continued to run until I was sure the house was out of sight, and then I made a beeline for dumpster in a side alleyway. Collapsing against it, I closed my eyes and tried to drag precious, valuable air into my poor, tortured lungs.
Yeah, I was so never doing that again.
Why did people do this to themselves?
And for fun?
I could think of a million different hobbies and activities that felt better than the run of death!
Giving up on the idea of getting fit, I caught my breath and composed myself before heading back down the street in search of the nearest fast food restaurant.
I was sitting in the corner of my favorite fast food joint, digging into the best damn Big Mac meal I'd ever tasted, when a familiar voice asked from behind me, “Hungry?”, causing my heart to stop dead in my chest.
Momentarily stunned, and with half a dozen fries stuffed in my mouth, I debated my options. Stay and face him like a grownup or run like hell.
Knowing I would never run again for the rest of my days on earth, I swallowed down the huge hunk of fries in my mouth and turned in my seat to face him.
The moment my eyes landed on his face, a tsunami of butterflies attacked my insides. His blond hair was slicked back off his face, the light stubble on his jaw undeniably attractive, and those eyes?
Jesus…
"What are you doing here?" I asked, still a little breathless from my earlier escapades.
"I'm on pregnancy-craving duties," Hunter replied, waving a brown paper bag in front of himself. "Apparently, no other franchise makes chicken nuggets as crispy as this one." He nodded to the chair opposite me. "Mind if I sit?"
"Sure," I muttered, shoving my tray aside to make room for him.
"So," Hunter mused when he sat down. A wide smile broke out across his face as he looked me up and down. "Care to explain why you're dressed like you're trying out for the Olympic track team?"
"Funny," I growled. "I was out for a run."
"A food run?" he snickered.
"Oh, shut up," I shot back, tossing a fry at him. I took a sip from my coke, before saying, "I suck at exercise, but I excel at eating." Shrugging, I added, "Don’t judge me."
"I never do," he replied, his piercing blue eyes locked on mine.
I ate the rest of my meal in companionable silence, not bothered that Hunter was watching me stuff my face with food. He'd seen me do this on many occasions, so I wasn’t about to start worrying about what he thought now.
Besides, I felt oddly comfortable around Hunter. His accepting, happy-go-lucky nature was one of his best personality traits and one of my favorite things about him. He had this knack for putting me at ease.
"Do you want to come home with me?" he asked then, startling me.
"Home?" I squeaked.
"Yeah," he confirmed, giving me one of those sexy as hell half-smiles. "Home."
"Um…" I shifted uneasily in my chair. "I probably shouldn’t."
"Shut that part of your mind up and think for yourself, HC," he countered calmly, eyes locked on mine. "What do you want to do?"
"I want to go with you," I admitted, my words nothing more than a breathy admission.
It was either go with Hunter, or swallow my pride and call Annabelle to come pick me up.
There was no contest.
It was Hunter.
Every single time.
He stood up and reached for my hand. "Then, let's go."
And god forgive me, I placed my hand in his and went willingly.
Lucky
I had no idea what had happened to make Hope Carter want to exercise on her own accord, but I was guessing it was pretty fucking serious. She looked completely miserable when I saw her sitting in the corner of the restaurant earlier.
She was sitting in the passenger seat of my truck now, looking like a lost puppy, as I drove us back to The Hill. I was glad she had come with me without arguing because there was no way in hell I was leaving her alone back there. The vulnerability inside this woman was plain to see – if you were willing to take a closer look. She was sad, and confused and fucking lost in her own head. I hated it.
"Why are you called that?" she asked.
Those were the first five words she'd spoken in almost an hour and it threw me.
"Huh?"
"Lucky," she clarified, turning to look at me. "Where did it come from?"
I smiled as I thought about it. "When I was in kindergarten, I ran out of the playground chasing a ball one of my friends had thrown for me. There was a big U-Haul coming down the street, drove right over me."
"Omigod!" Hope gasped. "Were you okay?
&
nbsp; "Perfect," I replied, smiling at the memory. "Not a scratch."
She gaped at me. "How?"
"I guess even at the age of four, my survival skills were boss," I laughed to myself at the memory. "I dropped to the ground and laid flat on my back. The truck drove straight over me, missing me completely. When the kids in my class called the teacher, she christened me Lucky – after she chewed me out real fucking good in front of all my friends, of course." Shrugging, I added, "The name stuck."
"Well, that's a pretty fitting nickname for a child who escaped death," Hope mused, smiling now. "The only pet name I was ever given was Hopey-Bear." She scrunched her nose in obvious distaste. "According to Derek, I was a 'sumo baby' and reminded him of a teddy-bear."
"All babies are chubby," I consoled as I tried not to laugh at how adorable she looked pouting. "It's a cute nickname for a baby."
"Oh yeah, it's so freaking cute," Hope scoffed. "Try being twenty-six and still having the majority of your family call you that." She shuddered and crossed her arms over her chest before adding, "I have enough issues without my family referring to me as a fucking teddy bear."
"Well, I think you're beautiful," I announced, deciding to add my two cents into the mix. "And the most un-teddy-bear-like looking female I have ever laid eyes on."
”Yeah, yeah." Hope rolled her eyes. "Even in my Olympic tryout clothing?"
"Especially in your Olympic tryout clothing."
Hope was quiet for the rest of the drive, but the brightness in her blue eyes, the slight rosy stain on her cheeks, and the way she perked up in her seat assured me that I'd said something right.
"You know you can talk to me, right?" I said when we pulled up outside Teagan and Noah's house. I killed the engine and turned to give Hope my full attention. "About anything." I studied her face, taking note of the loneliness in her blue eyes. She looked so damn sad. It fucking tore me up inside knowing that she was living like this… a half-fucking life. "I'm here for you." I knew my words sounded like a come-on, but I meant it in the most literal possible way. I needed Hope to know that she wasn’t alone. "For whatever you need."
I waited for what felt like a fucking age for her to finally look me in the eyes, and when she did, my heart jackknifed in my chest. Christ, she was something.
"Hunter, I…" she began to say, but quickly closed her mouth. She shook her head then and reached for the bag of takeout I'd bought for Teagan. "We better go and feed the beast," she joked before unbuckling her seatbelt and slipping out of the truck.
I didn’t move to follow her. Instead, I stayed in my truck and watched her disappear into the house. As I watched her walk away, all I could think was; I need to bring this woman back to life.
I could do it.
I could give her all the things he was incapable of giving.
Chapter Twenty-Four
JORDAN
I had been expecting a visit from Hope's father every day since she had taken me back, so when I saw his Mercedes pull up at the bottom of my driveway at lunchtime on Thursday, I wasn’t surprised. What did surprise me, though, was the brown-haired woman on my doorstep when I opened the front door.
"Hello, Jordan," Lee Carter said as she looked up at me with that warm, loving smile I remembered from my childhood. The moment my eyes landed on my wife's mother, a feeling of relief and comfort washed through me.
"Hello, Lee," I managed to acknowledge in return, though my throat felt suddenly tight.
"May I come inside?" she asked in a thick southern drawl she had never seemed to lose through the years. Wordlessly, I stepped aside and gestured for her to come inside.
She followed me through to the kitchen to where I had been making a sandwich. I had just finished work at the hospital and was heading shortly to meet one of my sponsors; Terry, a middle-aged man who had recently weaned off codeine. "I'm sorry about the mess," I muttered as I cleared a chair covered in Ryder's toys for her to sit on.
"That's all right," Lee replied gently. "I've raised six children," she added with a genuine smile. "Trust me when I tell you that I understand how scattered a child's items can get around a house."
"So, uh, you know about Ryder?" I asked when she didn’t question who owned the baby stuff. Even though I had been living an hour away from Hope's family, I kept my distance over the years. I stayed away from them and, thankfully, they had returned the favor.
Lee had sent birthday and Christmas cards every year which had always made me feel uneasy. I didn’t like knowing they had my address and I knew deep down that my father had something to do with them never coming here. It was the only thing I could remember ever being grateful to him for.
Somehow, I had been allowed to heal in peace and quiet without the Carter's meddling in my life. They weren't bad people, not in the least, but I could never bear to be around them.
Not after pushing Hope away.
"Derek filled me in on Annabelle and little Ryder." Lee paused for a long moment before adding, "And Hope filled me in on the rest."
Anger washed through me followed by a swell of panic.
Did Lee know?
Did Hope tell her?
"Okay." Feeling lightheaded, I walked around to the other side of the table and sank down. I needed to think about this. I needed to take a deep breath and figure out how I was going to handle this conversation. With my elbows resting on the table, I pressed my thumbs to my temples and asked, "Did she tell you everything?"
Years of rehab, therapy, and counseling and I still struggled to talk about it.
The only one in this whole world I truly felt comfortable talking about my past to was Annabelle, and it had taken six years of me pushing her away and her pushing right back to gain my trust.
Annie was the only person on this planet who knew everything.
No one else.
Hope only knew the bare bones of my ordeal. She knew what I needed her to know so I could sleep at night and not feel like a liar.
She knew only what I thought she could handle.
What I knew she could handle.
I was protecting her this way.
It was better for her.
I would take the rest of it to my grave, and I knew Annie would, too.
She was my best friend.
My secrets were safe with her.
Lee nodded sadly and I watched in horror as a tear slid down her scarred cheek. "I came here to apologize to you." Her voice was full of emotion, her eyes glassed over with unshed tears. "I am so, so sorry, Jordan."
I sat, frozen in my seat, staring across the table at the woman that had been a second mother to me for most of my childhood.
Just like always, everything about Lee Carter screamed safe to me. Her voice, her smell, the way she moved, even her touch when she used to brush my hair back from my face and clean up my cuts when I fell over. It was all safe to me.
When I was little, she had always reminded me of Easter Sunday. That satisfied, lazy, and comforting feeling you got in the afternoon having eaten all your chocolate eggs and playing hunt? I got that when I was around her.
I didn’t need to ask her what she was apologizing to me for.
I already knew.
"My own mother didn’t realize," I finally said, body flushed as a screwed-up concoction of boiling heat and freezing coldness filled my body. "How could you?"
"I should have," she whispered, tone ridden with guilt and remorse. "I knew something wasn't…right." Her voice broke and she dropped her head in her hands. "Your eyes were always so full of sadness," she cried. "You always looked like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders." Sniffling, she added, "And now, I know you did."
"Does Kyle know?" I heard myself ask and the question shocked the hell out of me, but not as much as my next one, "Does he…understand? Why I left? Why I…" I couldn’t finish. Why did it matter to me what he thought? It shouldn’t.
"Yes," she sniffled. "He knows and he understands, sweetheart. He truly does."
I di
dn’t respond to that.
He didn’t understand.
None of them did.
"He doesn’t know I'm here," Lee added, pulling a tissue from her sleeve. "No one does. We promised Hope we wouldn't say a word, but I couldn’t keep that promise." She wiped her nose and tried to compose herself before saying, "I feel horrible for breaking my daughter's trust, and for letting her down, but it pales in comparison to how badly I've let you down, Jordan." Her voice wobbled and her tears spilled over. "Kyle and I should have protected you from that. From…him!"
"No," I corrected stiffly. "My father should have protected me from him." Straightening my spine, I looked her dead in the eye. "You and Kyle aren’t my parents. Derek is… or at least he was supposed to be."
"Oh, sweetheart," Lee began to say. "Derek loves you so much–"
"Don’t," I snapped, throwing my hand up to emphasize that I was not prepared to listen to this. "I won't hear it," I warned. "No excuses, Lee. Please." I was thrumming with barely constrained rage right now, and hearing Lee make excuses for Derek being a shitty father would push me over the edge. I was mad at Hope, too. For breaking my trust. For telling my story. My life.
I was proud of myself surviving what I had. I had battled addiction and abuse and toxic parents, and I was still standing on my own two feet.
Coming back here could have been my breaking point but I was still sober. Still working on myself and battling my demons. Sure, I spent most of every day in a state of anxiety and despair, but I was doing it. I was surviving. I wasn’t expecting Lee Carter or anyone else to walk into my world and save me.
I was doing that for myself.
Sniffling, Lee nodded and said, "Please don’t be angry with Hope."
Too late.
I was furious with my wife.
Her inability to keep secrets was the reason I was suffering through this…conversation.