Losing Hope h-2

by Colleen Hoover

  I walk out of my room and head straight down to the kitchen. As soon as my elbows meet the countertop, I bury my face in my arms and muster up every ounce of willpower in me to stop myself from breaking down. I inhale several deep breaths, exhaling even bigger ones, hoping I can stay strong for her. But seeing her that helpless and knowing there was nothing I could do to help her?

  It’s the most disappointed in myself I’ve ever been.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  I’m still leaning on the counter with my head in my hands when I hear a door close upstairs. I’ve been down here for several minutes now and I don’t want her to think I’m trying to avoid her, so I head back upstairs. I check the bedroom and bathroom, but she’s not in either. I look at Les’s bedroom door and pause before reaching down and turning the knob.

  She’s sitting on Les’s bed, holding a picture. “What are you doing?” I ask her. I don’t know why she’s in here. I don’t want to be in here and I want her to come back to my room with me.

  “I was looking for the bathroom,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry. I just needed a second.”

  I nod, since I apparently needed a second, too. I look around the room. I haven’t set foot in here since the day I found the notebook. Her jeans are still in the middle of the floor, right where she left them.

  “Has no one been in here? Since she . . .”

  “No,” I say, not wanting to hear her finish that sentence. “What would be the point of it? She’s gone.”

  She nods, then places the picture back down on the nightstand. “Was she dating him?”

  Her question throws me for a second, then I realize she must have seen a picture of Les and Grayson together. I never told her they dated. I should have told her.

  I step into the bedroom for the first time in over a year. I walk to the bed and take a seat next to her. I slowly scan the room, wondering why my mom and I thought it would be a better idea to just close the door after she died, rather than get rid of her things. I guess neither of us is ready to let her go just yet.

  I glance at Sky and she’s still looking at the picture frame on Les’s nightstand. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her to me. She brings a hand to my chest and clenches my shirt in her fist.

  “He broke up with her the night before she did it,” I say, giving her an explanation. I don’t really want to talk about it, but the only other thing left to talk about is what just happened in my bed and I know Sky more than likely needs a little more time before we bring that up.

  “Do you think he’s the reason why she did it? Is that why you hate him so much?”

  I shake my head. “I hated him before he broke up with her. He put her through a lot of shit, Sky. And no, I don’t think he’s why she did it. I think maybe it was the deciding factor in a decision she had wanted to make for a long time. She had issues way before Grayson ever came into the picture. So no, I don’t blame him. I never have.” I grab her hand and stand up, because I honestly don’t want to talk about it. I thought I could, but I can’t. “Come on. I don’t want to be in here anymore.”

  I take her hand and she stands up, then we walk toward the door. She yanks her hand free once I reach the door, so I turn around. She’s staring at a picture of me and Les when we were kids.

  She’s smiling at the picture, but my pulse immediately quickens when I realize that she’s seeing me and Les as children. She’s seeing us in the exact way she used to know us. I don’t want her to remember. If she were to have even the slightest recollection right now, she might start asking questions. The last thing she needs after the breakdown she just had is to find out the truth.

  She squeezes her eyes shut for a few seconds and the look on her face kicks my pulse up a notch. “You okay?” I ask, attempting to pull the picture out of her hands. She immediately snatches it back and looks up at me.

  It’s the first sign of recognition I’ve seen on her face and it feels like my entire body is wilting.

  I manage to take a step toward her, but she immediately takes a step back. She keeps looking at the picture, then back up to me and I just want to grab the frame and throw it across the fucking room and pull her out of here, but I have a feeling it’s too late.

  Her hand goes up to her mouth and she chokes back a sob. She looks up at me like she wants to say something, but she can’t speak.

  “Sky, no,” I whisper.

  “How?” she says achingly, looking back down at the picture. “There’s a swing set. And a well. And . . . your cat. It got stuck in the well. Holder, I know that living room. The living room is green and the kitchen had a countertop that was way too tall for us and . . . your mother. Your mother’s name is Beth.” Her rush of words come to a pause and she darts her eyes back up to mine. “Holder?” she says, sucking in a breath. “Is Beth your mother’s name?”

  Not tonight, not tonight. God, she doesn’t need this tonight. “Sky . . .”

  She looks at me, heartbroken. She rushes past me and across the hall, into the bathroom, where she slams the door behind her. I follow after her and try to open the door but she’s locked it.

  “Sky, open the door. Please.”

  Nothing. She doesn’t open the door and she says nothing.

  “Baby, please. We need to talk and I can’t do it from out here. Please, open the door.”

  Another moment passes without her opening the door. I grip the edges of the doorframe and wait. It’s too late to backtrack now. All I can do is wait until she’s ready to hear the truth.

  The door swings open and she’s looking at me, her eyes full of anger now rather than fear.

  “Who’s Hope?” she says, barely above a whisper.

  How do I say it? How do I tell her the answer to that question, because as soon as I do I know I’ll have to watch as her entire world collapses around her.

  “Who the hell is Hope?” she says, much louder this time.

  I can’t. I can’t tell her. She’ll hate me and that would destroy me.

  Her eyes fill with tears. “Is it me?” she asks, her voice barely audible. “Holder . . . am I Hope?”

  A rush of breath escapes my lungs and I can feel the tears following. I look up to the ceiling to try to hold them back. I close my eyes and press my forehead against my arm, inhaling the breath that will encase the voice that will release the one word that will destroy her again.

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes grow wide and she just stands there, slowly shaking her head. I can’t even imagine what must be going through her head right now.

  She suddenly shoves past me, out into the hallway. “Sky, wait,” I yell as she descends the steps two at a time. I rush after her, trying to catch her before she leaves. As soon as she hits the bottom step, she collapses to the floor.

  “Sky!” I drop to my knees and take her in my arms, but she’s pushing against me. I can’t let her run. She needs to know the rest of the truth before she leaves here.

  “Outside,” she breathes. “I just need outside. Please, Holder.”

  I know how it feels to need air this badly. I release my hold and look her in the eyes. “Don’t run, Sky. Go outside, but please don’t leave. We need to talk.”

  She nods and I help her stand up. She walks outside and into the front yard where she tilts her head back and stares up at the stars.

  Up at the sky.

  I watch her the whole time, wanting nothing more than to hold her. But I know that’s the last thing she wants right now. She knows I’ve been lying to her and she has every right to hate me.

  After a while, she finally turns and heads back inside. She brushes past me without making eye contact and she walks straight into the kitchen. She takes a bottle of water out of the fridge and opens it, downing several gulps before finally making eye contact with me.

  “Take me home.”

  I’ll get her out of the house, but I’m not taking her home.

  * * *

  We’re at the airport now. I couldn’t think of anywhe
re else quiet enough to take her and I refused to take her home until she asked me everything she needs to ask me. The only thing she asked me with any sincerity on the way here was why I got my tattoo. I told her the same thing I told her last time she asked me about it; only this time I think she actually understood.

  “Are you ready for answers?” I ask her. We’ve been silently watching the stars for several minutes now. I’m just trying to give her a chance to calm down. To clear her head.

  “I’m ready if you’re actually planning on being honest this time,” she says, anger lacing her voice.

  I turn to face her and the hurt in her eyes is as prominent as the stars in the sky. I lift up onto my elbow and look down at her.

  Just a while ago I was looking down at her this same way, memorizing everything about her. When we were in that moment on my bed I was looking at her with so much hope. I felt like she was mine and I was hers and that moment and feeling would last forever. But now, looking down at her . . . I feel like it’s all about to end.

  I lower my hand to her face and touch her. “I need to kiss you.”

  She shakes her head. “No,” she says resolutely.

  I feel like tonight is the end of us and if she doesn’t let me kiss her one more time it’ll kill me. “I need to kiss you,” I say again. “Please, Sky. I’m scared that after I tell you what I’m about to tell you . . . I’ll never get to kiss you again.” I grasp her face harder and pull her closer. “Please.”

  Her eyes are desperately searching mine, possibly to see if there’s any shred of truth behind my words. She doesn’t say anything. She just barely nods, but it’s enough. I lower my head and press my lips firmly against hers. She grasps my forearm with her hand and parts her lips, allowing me to kiss her more intimately.

  We continue to kiss for several minutes, because I don’t know that either of us wants to face the truth just yet. I lift up onto my knees without breaking away from her and I climb on top of her. She runs her hand through my hair and to the back of my head, where she pulls against me, urging me closer.

  She begins to clench my shirt with her fists as a cry breaks free from her throat. I move my lips to her cheek and kiss her softly, then lower my mouth to her ear. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, holding on to her with my free hand. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to know.”

  She pushes me off her, then sits up. She pulls her knees to her chest and buries her face in them.

  “I just want you to talk, Holder. I asked you everything I could ever ask you on the way here. I need you to answer me now so I can just go home,” she says, sounding tired and exhausted. I stroke her hair and give her the answers she needs.

  “I wasn’t sure if you were Hope the first time I saw you. I was so used to seeing her in every single stranger our age, I had given up trying to find her a few years ago. But when I saw you at the store and looked into your eyes . . . I had a feeling you really were her. When you showed me your ID and I realized you weren’t, I felt ridiculous. It was like the wake-up call I needed to finally just let the memory of her go.

  “We lived next door to you and your dad for a year. You and me and Les . . . we were all best friends. It’s so hard to remember faces from that long ago, though. I thought you were Hope, but I also thought that if you really were her, I wouldn’t be doubting it. I thought if I ever saw her again, I’d know for sure.

  “When I left the grocery store that day, I immediately looked up the name you gave me online. I couldn’t find anything about you, not even on Facebook. I searched for an hour straight and became so frustrated that I went for a run to cool down. When I rounded the corner and saw you standing in front of my house, I couldn’t breathe. You were just standing there, worn out and exhausted from running and . . . Jesus, Sky. You were so beautiful. I still wasn’t sure if you were Hope or not, but at that point it wasn’t even going through my mind. I didn’t care who you were; I just needed to know you.

  “After spending time with you that week, I couldn’t stop myself from going to your house that Friday night. I didn’t show up with the intention of digging up your past or even in the hope that something would happen between us. I went to your house because I wanted you to know the real me, not the me you had heard about from everyone else. After spending more time with you that night, I couldn’t think of anything else besides figuring out how I could spend more time with you. I had never met anyone who got me the way you did. I still wondered if it was possible . . . if you were her. I was especially curious after you told me you were adopted, but again, I thought maybe it was a coincidence.

  “But then when I saw the bracelet . . .”

  I need her to look me in the eyes for this, so I lift her chin and make her look at me.

  “My heart broke, Sky. I didn’t want you to be her. I wanted you to tell me you got the bracelet from your friend or that you found it or you bought it. After all the years I spent searching for you in every single face I ever looked at, I finally found you . . . and I was devastated.” As soon as I say the word, I regret it. Because I know that isn’t true. I was upset. I was overwhelmed. But I didn’t even know the meaning of devastated. I sigh and finish my confession. “I didn’t want you to be Hope. I just wanted you to be you.”

  She shakes her head. “But why didn’t you just tell me? How hard would it have been to admit that we used to know each other? I don’t understand why you’ve been lying about it.”

  God, this is so hard.

  “What do you remember about your adoption?”

  “Not a lot,” she says, shaking her head. “I know I was in foster care after my father gave me up. I know Karen adopted me and we moved here from out of state when I was five. Other than that and a few odd memories, I don’t know anything.”

  She’s not getting it. That’s not what she remembers at all. It’s what she’s been told. I move from my position beside her and sit directly in front of her, facing her. I grab her by the shoulders. “That’s all stuff Karen told you. I want to know what you remember. What do you remember, Sky?”

  She breaks eye contact with me, trying to think. When she comes up empty, she looks back up at me. “Nothing. The earliest memories I have are with Karen. The only thing I remember from before Karen was getting the bracelet, but that’s only because I still have it and the memory stuck with me. I wasn’t even sure who gave it to me.”

  I lower my lips to her forehead and kiss her, knowing the next words that come out of my mouth will be the words I know she doesn’t want to hear. As if she can see how much this is hurting me, she wraps her arms around my neck and climbs onto my lap, holding me tightly. I wrap my arms around her, not quite understanding how she can even find it in herself to want to comfort me right now.

  “Just say it,” she whispers. “Tell me what you’re wishing you didn’t have to tell me.”

  I lower my head to hers, squeezing my eyes shut. She thinks she wants to know the truth, but she doesn’t. If she could feel what it’s about to do to her, she wouldn’t want to know.

  “Just tell me, Holder.”

  I sigh, then pull away from her. “The day Les gave you that bracelet, you were crying. I remember every single detail like it happened yesterday. You were sitting in your yard against your house. Les and I sat with you for a long time, but you never stopped crying. After she gave you your bracelet she walked back to our house but I couldn’t. I felt bad leaving you there, because I thought you might be mad at your dad again. You were always crying because of him and it made me hate him. I don’t remember anything about the guy, other than I hated his guts for making you feel like you did. I was just a kid, so I never knew what to say to you when you cried. I think that day I said something like, ‘Don’t worry . . .’”’”

  “He won’t live forever,” she says, finishing my sentence. “I remember that day. Les giving me the bracelet and you saying he won’t live forever. Those are the two things I’ve remembered all this time. I just didn’t know it was you.”

&
nbsp; “Yeah, that’s what I said to you.” I take her face in my hands. “And then I did something I’ve regretted every single day of my life since.”

  “Holder,” she says, shaking her head. “You didn’t do anything. You just walked away.”

  I nod. “Exactly. I walked to my front yard even though I knew I should have sat back down in the grass beside you. I stood in my front yard and I watched you cry into your arms, when you should have been crying into mine. I just stood there . . . and I watched the car pull up to the curb. I watched the passenger window roll down and I heard someone call your name. I watched you look up at the car and wipe your eyes. You stood up and you dusted off your shorts, then you walked to the car. I watched you climb inside and I knew whatever was happening I shouldn’t have just been standing there. But all I did was watch, when I should have been with you. It never would have happened if I had stayed right there with you.”

  She takes a deep breath. “What never would have happened?”

  I brush my thumbs over her cheekbones and look at her with as much calmness and reassurance as I can muster, because I know she’s about to need it.

  “They took you. Whoever was in that car, they took you from your dad, from me, from Les. You’ve been missing for thirteen years, Hope.”

  Chapter Thirty-nine, Chapter Thirty-nine-and-a-half, Chapter Thirty-nine-and-three-quarters

  She closes her eyes and lays her head on my shoulder. She tightens her grip around me, so I tighten mine in return. I wait. I wait for it to sink in. I wait for the tears. I wait for the heartbreak because I know for a fact it’s coming.

  We sit in silence for several minutes, but the tears never come. I begin to wonder if everything I just said to her is even registering. “Say something,” I beg.

  She doesn’t make a sound. She doesn’t even move. Her lack of reaction is starting to worry me, so I place my hand on the back of her head and lower my head closer to hers. “Please. Say something.”