Author: Cheryl McIntyre

Yeah. I know. Stubborn as hell. “All right. Call me as soon as you hear anything.”

“Will do, man. Try to get some rest. Tomorrow’s another big day.”

“Sleep? Are you shitting me?” He chuckles and I end the call.

I lay my cell on my chest and rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. This sucks. Hope better not be pulling her shit again, trying to push me away. I don’t know how many more ways I can make it clear—I’m not going anywhere.

If my mother—my own flesh and blood—couldn’t bribe (or guilt) me back home to Illinois, then Hope isn’t going to be able to make me leave either. I’m exactly where I want to be.

Well, not right now. Right now I want to be wherever she is. I want to touch her and know she’s okay.

Shit. There is no way I’m sleeping anytime soon. I throw the blanket back and pad out to the tiny living room. Maybe I can tire my mind with some TV.

The remote isn’t where I left it—which is beside the television. Hope gets so irritated when I put it there because “the whole point of a remote is so you don’t have to get up,” or something along those lines.

As I’m searching through the couch cushions, lightning flashes, illuminating the yard out front. I catch sight of the old Bel Air for just a moment and my heart lunges in my chest with a kick of adrenaline.

I move quickly to the door, turning the lock, and flinging it open. Hope’s sitting on the one step that makes up my stoop. She’s soaked and I can see she’s shaking. I’m not dressed, but I don’t give a shit. If any of my neighbors are up, they can deal with my boxers. I step out on the slick concrete and scoop her up into my arms. She presses her face into my neck. She’s freezing.

“What are you doing? Why are you sitting in the rain?” I kick the door closed behind me and take her into the closet I call the bathroom.

She looks up at me as I sit her on the edge of the sink. “I miss…my mom,” she whispers through chattering teeth.

My chest tightens with her words. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her say something like that. Hope’s always claimed to hate her mom for all the messed up shit she did to her as a kid. But hell, I miss my messed up mom too.

“I miss the times when she acted like a mom,” she adds as I start pulling layers of clothing off her. I start with her hoodie, dropping it heavily to the floor. I pull her shoes off next and she sighs.

“It wasn’t very often, but she would make the best pancakes and we would race to see who could eat them the fastest.”

I rub her frozen toes for a moment as I watch the emotions passing over her face.

“Whatever would make her happy—make her act like a normal person…it would usually disappear by the time we were finished eating.”

I start to take her shirt off and she pulls back quickly, pushing my hands away. “Don’t,” she murmurs.

“You’re wet,” I say, stating the obvious. “You can wear one of my shirts.”

She looks away and shakes her head. And then I realize. I know exactly why she doesn’t want to take her shirt off in front of me.

“Either you take it off or I will. I’m giving you fair warning, so there’ll be no misunderstanding my motives.”

She purses her lips and runs her fingers over the hem of her damp tee shirt. “Don’t judge me.”

I close my eyes and place my lips against her dripping hair. “No judgment. Just show me.”

Her eyes are glossy when I lean back. She lifts her arms and I slide the shirt off slowly, afraid to see what’s waiting underneath. I don’t see anything on the front except her pale, smooth skin. She shifts uncomfortably and I catch a streak of purple skin in the mirror behind her.

I bite down on my tongue to keep myself in check. “What happened?” I ask carefully.

“Therapy wasn’t very fun.”

I clench my jaw so hard my teeth hurt. My fingers curl into fists. “What happened?” I repeat. The tension in my voice is evident even though I try to hide it.

She slips off the counter, pressing into me. As she trails her fingertips over my stomach, I know she’s trying to distract me. Normally, this would work. I can never seem to get enough of Hope, but I can still see the bruise across her back.

As weird as it may sound, I love her too much to have sex with her right now.

I hold her face in between both of my palms and kiss her softly. “Tell me what happened, Hope.”

She holds my gaze before finally reaching up to wrap her hands around my wrists. “I don’t like Veronica.”

Veronica. That’s the therapist. “Okay,” I say. “Fill the gap between the time you decided Veronica was a bitch to the moment you ended up at my front door.”

She takes a step to the side and wiggles out of her jeans. I take the towel off the shower rod and wrap it around her. She shrugs.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Mason. It’s too hard.”

I don’t know what the right thing is to say here. She has to do this. She has to get healthy. But I know better than to tell her she has to do anything. That is one of the most frustrating things about Hope. It’s also one of the best things. She makes up her own mind, the hell with what anybody else thinks.

I brush my mouth over her neck and pull her into my chest. Tomorrow we can talk this out. But tonight…tonight I’ll just hold her.

“It’s after midnight,” I whisper against her ear. “Happy birthday.”

4

Hope

Mason comes over for my birthday dinner, which goes well. The plan is to tell everyone I’m moving into Mason’s tiny apartment. I’m not looking forward to the actual telling part, but I can’t wait to spend the night with my boyfriend. The thought of sleeping in his arms has me bouncing with excitement.

As Jenny starts clearing away our plates, I decide to help her—soften her up for the bomb I’m about to drop.

She pulls the cake out of the fridge and hands me a handful of forks. “I have candles,” she says. I can tell she’s watching me from the corner of her eye, gauging my reaction.

“Okay.” I’ll blow my germs all over the cake I’ll be sharing with the family if it makes her happy.

“Eighteen of them.” She sighs and turns to face me. “I can’t believe you’re an adult. I know you’re not mine, but I love you like you are.”

That catches me off guard and I feel my breath hitch. My heart pumps frantically. I’m not good at these things. But Jenny knows this.

She turns back to the counter and busies herself placing the small candles strategically on my cake. “I know you’ve had a rough time. I just want you to know I’m proud of you.”

I swallow tightly. Ever since Mason’s mom called her and told her—told her that I hurt myself—Jenny’s had this haunted look in her eyes every time she looks at me. It’s part of the reason I want out of here.

“How can you be proud of me?”

She whirls around and holds my gaze. “It took a lot of courage for you to go to therapy yesterday. I know it was hard, but you did it.”

Yes, but you have no clue what I did after.

“Are we having cake and ice cream or not?” Dylan skulks into the kitchen and I release a relieved breath.

“Working on it, Dill Weed,” I say. “Grab some plates.” He scowls at the nick name, but does as instructed and follows me back to the dining room.

As we stuff ourselves with sugar, I open my presents, and then there’s nothing left but to tell everyone my plans. I shoot Mason a nervous glance and he squeezes my hand under the table.

I sit forward and clear my throat as I twirl my fork through pink frosting. “So, I need to tell you guys something,” I begin.

“Are you pregnant?” Alec asks, his voice strained.

“What? No.” I shake my head emphatically.

“Oh, thank God.” He shrugs at Jenny when she cocks a brow at him.

Guy’s watching me and I know he’s going to be mad I didn’t tell him ahead of time. I’m not really sure why I didn’t. Maybe because I know how much I’m going to miss him even though I’ll only be ten minutes away.

“I’m moving in with Mason,” I state.

“Oh,” Jenny replies softly.

“Sweet,” Annie says. “I get my room back.”

“What?” Guy hisses. He glares at Mason.

“Wait,” Alec says. He puts his hands up, palms out like he’s stopping traffic.

“You can’t live with a boy unless you’re married,” Addie speaks up.

“She lives with me and Guy and we’re boys,” Dylan says to Addie. She puckers her brows and shrugs.

Too many people are talking at once. The only ones who are quiet are the twins as they paint their highchairs with icing, and me and Mason. He locks his fingers with mine and I smile at him.

“You can’t move in with him,” Misty says. “You’re still in high school.”

“Yeah, what about school?” Alec asks. He crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes. “You can’t drop out.”

“You’re dropping out of school?” Misty shouts.

“What? No,” I say. I shake my head and drop the fork. “I’m still going to go to school.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t talk to me about this,” Guy spits. He pushes his chair back and stands up.

“Sit down, Guy,” Jenny says firmly. He just looks at her and she points at his seat. He sinks down and mirrors his dad, crossing his arms.

Jenny closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. When she opens them, she looks right at me. “You’ll stay in school?”

I nod.

“And you’ll continue therapy?”

Crap.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t miss a session,” Mason announces. “I know how important it is.”

Jenny smiles weakly at him. “I know you do.” She turns to Alec and brushes her fingers over his forearm. “I think this will be okay.” She shifts back to me. “And if it’s not, you can come back. Anytime. But if we find out—” Her eyes dart around the table. “If you skip out on therapy I’ll drag you back here by your hair.”

Guy shoves away from the table. “Awesome,” he says, his voice thick with the sarcasm. I watch him as he walks away.

Mason nudges me and nods his head toward the doorway Guy just went through. I nod and stand up. I throw Jenny and Alec a reassuring smile. “Thanks. You guys are the best.”

“Mm,” Alec grunts.

I leave poor Mason to deal with him and chase after my best friend.

~*~*~*~

I don’t bother to knock. I push Guy’s door open and step inside his room. He picks up his acoustic guitar and heaves himself onto his bed.

“This will make me happy,” I whisper.

He presses his lips together and strums a chord. “I know.”

“Then why are you mad?” I sit on the floor in front of him and search his face for some clue as to what he’s thinking.

“I’m not mad.” He blows out a breath sending his blonde bangs fluttering. “I’m mad you didn’t talk to me. I should have been the first to know. But I’m not mad you want to move in with Mason. I think that’s…great.” He sets the guitar beside him on the bed and slides down in front of me.

“I wanted to tell you, but we just decided, and you were still healing from the accident. I didn’t want to upset you.” I roll my eyes. “I’m an idiot.”

He presses his knees into mine and pokes my chin. “Yeah. You are.” He smiles weakly. “I’m just going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too,” I murmur. “You can come over all the time.”