Author: Cheryl McIntyre

She smiles and shoos me off. “Get out of here.” I’m halfway down the hall when she calls my name.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

She never misses an opportunity to say it. You never know when you can run out of chances.

*******

Everyone’s sitting on the floor in the living room, a plate full of cookies in front of them. Cartoons play loudly on the TV. Dylan and Chase are playing a game of Go Fish. Archer’s glued to Hope, his fingers buried in her wet hair. I lower myself beside her and Addie crawls onto my lap. I’m surprised because she’s always seemed scared of me, but she acts like this is an everyday occurrence. She offers me a cookie, the chocolate is slightly melted from her hand, but I eat it anyway. It’s really good and I wink at Hope, letting her know.

“Where’s Annie?” I ask, just noticing she’s not here.

“Staying as far away from Hope as she can,” Chase says.

My gaze flicks to hers quickly. “What happened?”

Her lips form a thin line and she sighs. “Nothing.”

Chase squints. “That’s bull sh—poop.” He glances at Addie then back to me. “She was talking a bunch of poop. Saying Hope shouldn’t have started a fight last night.”

“Wait. What?” I look at Hope, my brows furrowed. “She’s blaming you?”

“It’s fine,” she says quietly.

No it’s not. Not at all. It’s messed up and seriously pisses me off.

“Technically,” Chase says, “I started the fight. But if she hadn’t been such a B.I.T.C.H. and spread your business to all her friends, none of that shit—poop would’ve happened in the first place.”

“Christian started the fight,” I correct. “You threw the first punch and Bailey talked crap, but he went too far.”

“Regardless of who started the fight, it didn’t cause the accident,” Chase says. “Park’s a dumb butt for driving drunk and when he gets out of lock up, I’m going to kick his butt.”

I look over at Hope. She’s been quiet through our back and forth. I bump her shoulder with mine. She closes her eyes and I get nervous. Right here would be a good time for her to accuse me. To blame me. I scoot Addie onto the floor and take Asher from Hope, handing him off to Chase.

Hope looks up at me confused when I stand and grab her hands. “Come with me,” I say quietly.

She lets me help her up and follows me into the kitchen, but I can tell she doesn’t want to talk right now. I could hold off, but it’s like waiting for the executioner. I’d rather have my heart ripped out quickly.

I take a deep breath and just say it. “I know I’m responsible for the accident. I know I should have listened to you and stopped them. I know I fucked up and it’s a huge fuck up. What I don’t know—what I need to know—is what you’re going to do about it.”

Hope blinks slowly, her mouth opening, but she doesn’t say anything. She just stares at me. For way too long.

“Say something,” I whisper.

“I did,” she says so softly I almost miss it.

“What?”

“I did blame you. For a split second, that exact thought ran through my head. I’m human. It happens.” She pulls her fingers through her hair, tugging on the ends. “Then I blamed Chase because he did hit Christian first. And then I blamed Annie because she couldn’t keep her stupid mouth shut. Hell, Mason, I even blamed my mom for giving Annie something to tell. I blamed Park for being the freaking idiot to get behind the wheel when he was drunk, especially knowing it’s how my mom died. After Guy made it through his surgery, I decided it was his fault. He was the one that insisted on playing that dumbass party and Donnie was his uncle. He should never have let Park drive or even got in the car with him in the first place knowing he had been drinking. But after Annie freaked out on me, I realized everything that happened was because of me.”

I feel my eyebrows crinkle. And I know I’m squinting at her, but I wasn’t expecting that. My brain’s trying to switch gears because what I had anticipated was her breaking up with me. I’m stuck between relief that she doesn’t hate me, feeling like an asshole that I was worried about myself, and a sick, nauseated feeling that she thinks she caused this. Above all that, I’m silently thanking God that nobody died because I don’t know what she would have done to herself thinking it was her fault.

“Bailey was talking about me. About my mom. I was jealous that she was touching you. I was embarrassed of the things she said to you. In front of everybody. Embarrassed they were true. I shouldn’t have let it bother me. I should’ve let it go. Christian said that stuff about me because I humiliated him in front of his friends at school. It all comes back to me. So I don’t blame you for anything.”

I should have seen this coming. In hindsight, I can’t believe I didn’t. Hope always tries to find herself guilty. I guess then it helps all that shit that happened to her as a kid make sense in her mind. But she didn’t deserve it no matter how much she tries to convince herself she did.

I want to hit something so bad because I don’t know how to make her see she’s wrong. I don’t know anything when it comes to Hope. I can’t make her quit hurting herself. I can’t take her pain away. I can’t make her stop blaming herself.

I’m completely useless.

I press her into the counter with my chest and place my hands on each side of her, locking her in place. “You didn’t cause this.” My forehead touches hers and I gaze into her eyes, refusing to let her look away. “You didn’t cause any of this.”

She tries to shake her head, but I press against her harder. “This wasn’t your fault,” I whisper. My hands snake up into her hair and I massage my fingertips into her scalp. “So much happened and we all have a piece in it.”

“It was because of me, though. Maybe Park wouldn’t have been drinking if I hadn’t hurt him.”

Now I shake my head. “It’s not your fault,” I say firmly. My mouth moves over hers as she opens it to protest again. I let my tongue find hers. My hips are flush with hers and I conform to her body. My hands rake down her sides and I lift her onto the counter. I pull her legs around my waist and take her face in between my palms. She leans in and kisses me this time, biting at my lip. My grip tightens as she works her fingers into my jeans and grasps me.

I look around quickly and pick her up, my hands cupping her thighs. I walk us toward the pantry.

“No. Laundry room,” she gasps before bringing her mouth back to mine.

I turn and kick at that door. She reaches behind her and turns the handle and we’re in. Leaning her into the washer, I jerk her shirt over her head. She pries my belt open and I help her with the button. I tear at her shorts, trying to get them out of the way.

“Condom,” I say as my bare flesh caresses hers.

“I don’t have any,” she breathes. A whimper escapes her lips and she wiggles closer, fighting to feel me against her. “Mason.” My arms are locked, holding us less than an inch apart, but I can feel her heat and I want it so badly. “Please. I need you.”

A shiver runs through me. I’d like to say I think it over, weigh my options, but I don’t even hesitate. I slide inside her and find a way to take some of the hurting away for both of us.

Chapter 38

Hope

I open the door to a woman, bright red oven mitts on her hands, holding a large, steaming pot. Even if Kellin wasn’t beside her, I’d know exactly who she was. It only takes her wide smile, complete with dimple, for me to know she’s Mason’s mom. I see where his dark hair and skin tone comes from. Although, Mason’s dad must have been tall because she is smaller than me.

“Hope?”

“Yes, hi,” I say, pushing the screen door open for her.

“I’m Mason’s mom. Gabbie.” She raises the pot. “I made soup.” I step out of the way to let her in and lead her into the kitchen. Kellin avoids eye contact with me and goes straight to the living room where Misty is.

My face flushes as Gabbie sets the soup on the stovetop right next to the counter where her son and I made out just hours ago.

“Hey Mom,” Mason says coming around the corner. I watch as he kisses her cheek like it’s something he does all the time. It’s so sweet and even though it’s totally a Mason thing to do, I still find myself surprised by the gesture. “You tried it first, right?”

She gives him a sharp look. “Kellin ate two bowls and he’s still walking, so shut up.” She takes the lid off and turns her attention to me. “Bowls?”

“Oh, uh, that cupboard,” I say, pointing behind her.

She starts filling the right number of bowls without asking how many are needed and places three of them in the freezer to cool. Kellin and Misty bring the kids in and Chase follows behind Dylan. Mason handles introductions as I help get everyone situated. The only one missing is Annie. She’s been hiding all day.

Gabbie hands me a bowl and nods at my arm. “What happened there?” she asks.

Instinctively I tuck my arm into my side and glance at Kellin. He looks down at the floor and I feel horrible all over again. “Curling iron mishap,” I say. Her eyes bore into me for several seconds and I feel frozen under her gaze.

She nods slowly. “Make sure you keep it clean. You don’t want it to get infected.”

“We’re on top of it,” Mason offers as he leans into me. “Any excuse to play doctor.” He makes his brows jump and my cheeks ignite in embarrassment. Who says stuff like that to their mom?

“Mason Xavier,” she sighs, but she’s fighting a smile at the same time. She shakes her head and hands him his own bowl of soup.

I sit down, looking into the bowl for the first time and cringe. Vegetable soup. I look up, wondering how I can get around eating this crap and Mason chuckles. He takes a large bite and winks at me. Jerk.

“All right,” Gabbie announces. “I’m out of here.”

“Thank you for the soup,” I say, trying to sound sincere, because I am grateful. I just don’t plan on eating it.

“No problem.” She pulls a Snickers bar from her back pocket and slides it across the table to me with a knowing smile. “It was nice to meet you, Hope.”

I stare at the candy, dumbfounded. “It was nice to meet you too,” I murmur absently. She and Mason both laugh. She kisses the top of his head then does the same to Kellin before she goes.

I tear into the Snickers and push my bowl to Mason.

I hate hospitals. I hate their smell, what’s meant to be sterile, but really seems like they’re trying to mask the stench of death and sickness. I hate their neutral décor that borders on boring and ugly. Mostly, I hate that people come here to die.

I press the number for Guy’s floor three times. It doesn’t make the elevator go any faster, but I do it anyway. Mason laces his fingers in between mine and squeezes. It’s a silent reminder that he’s here for me. I take in a slow breath and blow it out through my mouth.

“Better?”

I manage a smile. “Yeah.”

The doors open and I follow Mason to Guy’s room. He’s propped up in the bed. My heart skips an actual beat as I move to his side. I had this image in my mind. His head bald and wrapped in gauze like a mummy. Tubes inserted in all sorts of orifices. Looking pale and frail. But there’s only a small bandage on the back corner of his head. His blonde locks are still in his face and he looks good. Tired, maybe, but no paler than usual. The only tube is an IV in his arm. He lifts the opposite one inviting me onto the bed with him and I climb in quickly. It’s a tight fit, these beds aren’t made for more than one person, but I snuggle against him and we make it work.