Guilt started to eat at her, and for once it had nothing to do with her parents. She should’ve been looking out for her grandmother. She was getting up in age though not yet at a point where she couldn’t get around, but one look at the state of her house told Hope she needed help.
Hope took a few cleansing breaths and gathered all the courage she could muster. She’d let the rift between them go on too long. She knew it, and she also knew it was she who needed to make the effort. They’d both lost huge. Hope, her mother, father, and brother. And Marybeth, her daughter, son-in-law, and grandson. Neither’s burden was worse. But is was on Hope to reach out. She might’ve been slowly accepting that she wasn’t to blame for her parents’ murder, but she still held some culpability in the heartbreak.
The muggy afternoon air made it that much harder to breathe as Hope made her way across the street. And by the time she found herself on the front porch, she felt like she’d run a marathon. Her legs were jelly and her heart thumped frantically.
It took a few moments for Marybeth to answer the door. When she did, Hope was grateful the older woman hadn’t called out a “who is it” because if she’d known beforehand it was Hope, she never would’ve opened. It didn’t take a mind reader to know her grandmother wasn’t happy to see her.
Marybeth’s face said it all.
Disgust, clear as day.
“Leave.”
“Grandma—”
“Don’t you dare call me that,” Marybeth sneered.
Tiny shards of pain sliced at Hope.
This is your only chance.
“Please talk to me.”
“You have some nerve coming here. First, you kill my Patty and your father, and if that wasn’t bad enough, you took my Peter from me. Go to hell, Hope.”
Marybeth tried to close the door but Hope’s hand shot forward and stopped her.
“I didn’t kill them,” she whispered. “Wentworth Collins did.”
“You killed them. You, Hope. I don’t care it wasn’t your hand that held the knife. I ain’t never gonna forgive you for takin’ my girl.”
“I lost her, too,” Hope sighed, realizing her mistake. She never should’ve come. Some things were better left alone.
“You didn’t lose her, you killed her. Always was a selfish child. Not worth spit, that’s what your granddad always useta say. He was right. Now leave and don’t come back. Not ever again, Hope.”
“We’re family—”
“You ain’t my family, girl. My family’s dead, all a ‘em, and it’s your fault.”
Marybeth looked past Hope and jerked back in surprise. Her face pinched tighter, which was a feat considering the woman had worn a deep scowl since she’d opened the door.
“Oh, I see. You come around, bringin’ another one of your criminals to my door. What? You bring him here so he can kill me, too?”
Hope had no idea what Marybeth was talking about. She craned her neck and almost had a heart attack. There he was, two feet behind her, arms crossed over his broad chest, blue eyes spitting fire, and he was frowning. Combine all of that with the angry vibes and he looked seriously freaking pissed.
Jangles.
Shit.
Did the man ever listen?
“Baby, I think you’ve taken enough abuse. It’s time to go.”
“She ain’t got near enough of nothing. If you’re here to kill me, get on with it. She already took everything from me. Got nothing else left. So if you’re—”
“Woman! Shut your trap. Hope, baby. Come on,” Jangles coaxed. “You tried. That’s all you can do.”
Hope blinked then blinked some more. After she’d ascertained that Jangles wasn’t a figment of her grief-stricken mind, she turned to face her grandmother.
“Beau would never hurt you,” she defended. “And neither would I. I came here to say I was sorry, to ask you if we could move on—together, like a family. We’re all we have left. I miss you.”
“A family,” Marybeth snapped the words like they tasted dirty. “You ain’t my family. I don’t accept your apology. You’re a murderer.”
“They loved me,” Hope whimpered. “They loved me and you know they did. They told me all the time. Your daughter was a good mom and she loved me and Peter. You loved me, too. I’m sorry I brought Wentworth into our lives. I didn’t know he was capable of that. I loved them. I miss them every day. I think about them and my heart bleeds.”
“Good. It should bleed. I hope it bleeds you dry. I hope you die feeling the same pain your momma felt when he cut her throat. I hope you—”
“Enough!” Jangles roared. “Jesus Christ.”
Then Hope was no longer standing on her grandmother’s porch. She was cradled in Jangles’ arms and he was stalking across the street.
Next thing Hope knew, Jangles was opening his truck door.
“What are you doing?”
“Baby.”
He set her in the passenger seat and she asked again, “What are you doing?”
“Breathe, Hope.”
“I am.”
“No, baby, you’re panting. You’re gonna hyperventilate. Take a deep breath.”
I am?
It was then Hope saw the worry written on his face. He was no longer angry, he was worried.
She glanced away, not wanting to see it, not wanting to feel it.
All she wanted was to be numb.
Chapter 29
Christ.
Jesus Christ.
Jangles saw it, the moment everything crashed down around Hope. Her eyes shifted from side to side not meeting his and wetness started to pool.
“I shouldn’t’ve come.”
“Why did you?”
“I wanted to apologize.”
“To the woman who spit on you?” Hope’s eyes snapped to his. “Yeah, baby, I remember what you told me. That woman’s determined to hold onto hate, honey.”
“She’s my grandmother. She used to love me.”
Fuck.
“I thought…” Hope stopped speaking, not because she didn’t have anything else to say but because her torso jerked and a sob tore through her. Jangles slid closer and wrapped his arms around her while her body trembled and her tears soaked his shirt.
Jangles waited until he thought the worst had passed before he pulled back and started to buckle her in.
“Wha…What are you doing?” she hiccupped.
“Taking you home.”
“I don’t have a home.”
“You sure as shit do.”
“My car—”
“Don’t worry about your car. Someone will come to pick it up.”
“I’m not leaving my car here.”
“Baby, even if I trusted you to follow me home, I still wouldn’t let you drive. You’re shaking like a goddamn leaf. Your eyes are swollen damn near shut. And that bitch just took a pound of flesh out of you. One that was not hers to fucking take. You’re gonna stew on that, and it’s gonna hit you again. When it does, you will not be behind the wheel of your car. I’m taking you home. You don’t want me there with you after I get you settled, I’ll leave. But you’re staying there.”
“BF’s—”
“I’m not taking you back to that goddamn RV. You’re going home.”
Jangles knew Hope was gearing up to fight him, but this was one argument he would not lose.
“Why’d you come here?” Hope clamped her mouth closed and looked everywhere except at him.
“You’re searching for family,” Jangles told her. “But what you don’t get is, you already have one.”
“I wanted to move forward.”
“By leaving everything you love behind?”
Hope shook her head. “I wanted a fresh start.”
Fuck, that killed.
“I just wanted to move forward and I thought if I could make things right with her I could let go of the past and make that happen. But she’s right—”
Hell to the motherfucking no.
“The fuck she is,
baby. She spewed some seriously jacked shit. You were right, you didn’t kill them. If she needs someone to blame and wants to live in misery, that’s not your problem. And I’m not letting you go back to blaming yourself. I heard what you said, they loved you. Do you think your mom would be happy about the way that woman just treated you? I’m not a dad—one day, God willing, I will be—but I would be rolling over in my grave if my own blood spoke to my child the way that bitch just spoke to you.”
“She’s hurting, too.”
The tears were back and it was time for Jangles to get on the road.
“I get that, baby, I really do. But that doesn’t make it okay. Do you need anything from your car?”
“My purse,” she answered absentmindedly.
“Keys in it?”
“Yeah.”
Jangles was no fool and took advantage of the haze of sorrow that surrounded her.
He buckled her in, shut the door, and jogged to her car.
Jangles quickly located her purse and opened it to make sure her cell was there. He grabbed the keys from the cupholder, looked in her back seat, then glanced around the neighborhood. It wasn’t the worst but it also wasn’t the best. He wasn’t leaving her suitcases exposed. Two trips later, he had the contents of her car loaded into the bed of his truck. When he got back into the cab, Hope’s head was resting back and her eyes were closed.
“Everything’s gonna be okay.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It will be,” he promised.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I know you don’t, but I’m gonna prove it to you.”
Ten minutes into the drive, Hope could no longer hold her emotions in check. Her hands went to her face, the heels of her palms pressed against her cheeks, she bent forward, rested her forehead on her knees, and let go. The sounds of her sobs filled the interior of the truck and her body shook with the devastating heartache.
Marybeth’s angry words replayed on a constant loop. Over and over she heard the conversation in her mind.
I hope it bleeds you dry. I hope you die feeling the same pain your momma felt when he cut her throat.
Hope had already been bled dry.
There was no denying she was alone. No family. Marybeth was as good as dead to her. She’d made it abundantly clear she wanted nothing to do with her granddaughter.
She felt Jangles’ hand on her back but it did nothing to calm her, nothing to cut through the cold that had seeped into her bones.
Numb.
When the tears finally dried, Hope sat up and was surprised to find them back in Killeen. However, they weren’t on Jangles’ street, though still close by.
Jangles pulled into a driveway and cut the engine.
“Whose house is this?” she asked.
“Yours.”
Hope’s back snapped straight and she turned to look at Jangles.
“I don’t—”
“For now, it’s yours. One day it will be ours.”
“Jangles—”
“Beau,” he corrected. “Let’s get inside and get settled.”
“I’m not going in there.”
“Babe, you are. You’re going inside, I’m gonna fix you something to eat, and you’re gonna get some rest.”
“I don’t need to rest.”
“You tossed and turned all night. You’ve had an emotionally exhausting morning. You need some sleep and when you wake up, we’ll talk.”
“How do you know I tossed and turned?”
“Because I was in the room next to you. The walls were so thin I might as well have been in the bed with you. Every time you moved, I heard you. Every time you got up to pace the room, I heard. You were up more than you were sleeping.”
Welp, that explains how he found me at Marybeth’s.
“Why’d you follow me?”
“I wanted to make sure you got to El Paso okay.”
“That’s insane.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“How’d you find me?”
“I had a buddy track you. As soon as you used your credit card to book your room, I had your location.”
Hope blinked away her shock. He was insane.
Why the hell would he track me?
“Isn’t that illegal?”
“Probably.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I told you why, because I love you. I fucked up and I’m determined to prove to you not only am I sorry, but I will never make that mistake again.”
“So, it doesn’t matter what I want?”
“Baby, you’re all that matters. But right now, I’m gonna give you what you need, not what you want. And we’re starting with food and a bed. After that, we’ll sort the rest.”
“I think I know what I need,” she snapped.
“No, Hope, you don’t. You have no idea what you need. You’re runnin’ on emotion. I fucked you over—”
She’d had enough. More than enough, therefore those emotions Jangles had accused her of running on exploded out of her and she told him as much.
“I’ve had enough. I don’t need to be reminded that you fucked me over, I feel it every damn day. I can’t get away from it no matter how hard I try. It’s in me, the pain, the anger, the heartache. You gave me everything then took it away. Stole it from me and left me empty. I don’t want to be anywhere near you. Seeing you hurts. Being next to you hurts. Being at the bar hurts. Everything fucking hurts, Jangles. And you did this to me.”
With escape on her mind, she unbuckled and threw the door open. Her feet were barely on the concrete of the driveway before Jangles was on her side of the truck grabbing her hand and leading her to the front door.
Hope didn’t protest only because she had no options at that point. Her car was an hour away in front of her grandmother’s house, she was bone-tired, and maybe after she slept for a hundred years, she’d be clear-minded enough to come up with a plan.
Jangles opened the door and gave her a gentle push. It wasn’t until she’d cleared the foyer and stepped into the living room and saw Jangles’ big black leather couch, his stylish coffee table, his TV mounted on the wall, and his bookshelves did she note, “You moved.”
“Couldn’t be in that house anymore. Couldn’t even go into my bedroom. After I left you, I spent the first couple of days in a drunken stupor. When I sobered up and realized what I’d done, the first thing I did was haul the bedroom furniture to the dump. I couldn’t bear to look at the bed you were taken from. I couldn’t look at the sheets that I’d tucked around you before you were torn from them. I couldn’t breathe in that house knowing what happened there. I didn’t want you to ever step foot back in that place. If I couldn’t stand being there, I’d never ask you to. So, I found this place and moved in.”
Hope was stunned. Her heart beat wildly and her throat clogged. It was too much.
“Why…” she started but stopped.
Her gaze slid around the living room, then to the dining room where he’d also replaced his worn table with a large eight-seater. She couldn’t see the kitchen but assumed it was through the large archway. She glanced to her right and there was a hall, the walls the same warm taupe as the rest of the house. Freshly painted white trim, the combination along with the wide plank wood floors gave the entire space a warm feel.
Jangles’ old house had white walls, white trim. It was nice but a bachelor pad. This place felt like home.
“I explained why,” he gently answered her question.
“No. Why couldn’t you breathe in your old house?”
“Seriously?”
Hope nodded, not wanting to admit that his reason was important. Unwanted butterflies started swarming in her belly and that lump in her throat got bigger.
“Baby, you were taken from that house.”
“I know I was.”
“I know you know, but I don’t think you’re understanding. You were taken from our bed, in that house. Taken from me. When a man comes to rea
lize all the ways he’s vulnerable, when he comes to realize that he loves something so much that he now has a weakness, and that love can be exploited, taken, used against him, he does one of three things. Makes moves to protect it and in the process suffocates it because he’s scared. Moves to protect it by walking away. Or, he mans up and does the right thing—talks about his fear, protects his woman in a healthy way, and together they make moves to keep each other safe.
“I made all the wrong choices because I wasn’t man enough to admit I was scared. I went back to that house and sat in the living room and all I could think about was how scared you must’ve been. I sat there with a bottle of Jack and I visualized how they got in, how they walked through my house, how they ambushed you while you were sleeping. From start to finish, over and over, I made myself think about it in an effort to punish myself for what I’d done. And I did a good job, Hope. I tortured the fuck out of myself. I deserved it. But when the fog cleared and it hit me that I’d made the worst mistake of my life, no amount of self-torture or alcohol could stop the pain.
“I knew I needed to fix what I’d broken, and the first step was to get the fuck out of that house. I needed to have a home to bring you back to. For you and for me. We both needed a fresh start. A place where we could begin again, this time with no boundaries, no hiding, no bad memories haunting us when we walked in the door or went to bed.”
Hope liked that, all of it, but she was still wary.
“Are you still scared?” she asked.
“Shit, yeah.”
Her heart stilled. So nothing had changed. He could turn at any time, and she’d never live through another breakup.
“I’ll always be scared. There will never be a time when I’m not afraid for your safety. But I’m man enough to admit it. I’m fucking scared, Hope. I love you so much I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you. I’m also not so arrogant as to think I can protect you from everything. So, all I got is the knowledge that I cannot live without you. I love you, and I’m not letting you go. That leaves us one option—working together to make each other safe.”
Hope's Delta (Special Forces: Operation Alpha) (Delta Team Three Book 5) Page 17