by Diana Gardin
The irony that Tate was insisting anything at ten o’clock in the morning wasn’t lost on Reed. He was just too preoccupied to care much about it.
“Damn it to hell, Reed,” Tate grumbled. “It’s early in the goddamn morning. You will eat these damn-near-gourmet eggs I just cooked, or I will shove them down your pretty-boy throat.”
Reed was unable to help his smirk at that, and he picked up his fork to shovel a bite of eggs into his mouth. They tasted like sand.
“There,” he said, pushing back from the table. “Happy? I’m going for a swim.”
A week had passed since he left Hope there in the alley in downtown Charleston. Seven long, unending days. He had no idea how he missed it. He was baffled by the fact that he’d nearly bared his soul and handed his heart over to a girl who wasn’t merely cheating on him, she was getting paid for it.
It would be laughable if it didn’t hurt so damn bad.
And yeah, it fucking hurt. Every part of his body hurt. Granted, he was probably setting Olympic records in freestyle swimming on a daily basis in order to cope, but his heart ached worse than his limbs. And it was such a brand-new feeling for him, he wished he could just rip the bloody thing out of his chest and burn it. Throw it into an incinerator.
Phillip Castille called and informed Reed that a record company based in Atlanta wanted to offer him a recording contract. Phillip wanted to get started on an album as soon as possible, and while Reed could work on a plan to go back and forth between Atlanta and South Carolina, it would really be more convenient if he just moved to Georgia.
He’d told no one. He hadn’t signed the contract yet. He hadn’t written a single line of music since he lost Hope, and he wasn’t thinking that inspiration would be hitting him anytime soon. He went to work at Hopewell Enterprises, even dressing more tailored for the sake of his father. He threw himself into the work, closing a large takeover deal with a company in Japan just days after the incident in downtown Charleston.
His father was so proud.
And that irony wasn’t lost on Reed, either, because as long as he was doing what Gregory Hopewell thought he should be doing, his father was happy. And Reed was miserable.
It was one of the nights when he was playing and replaying the same chords on his guitar, waiting for inspiration to strike him, that a soft knock sounded on the condo door. Tate was out, God knew where, and Reed wasn’t expecting any visitors. He only wore a pair of gray sweatpants, and his hair was a mess of spikes all over his head. He hadn’t showered, and dark circles were framing the underside of his eyes. He looked exactly the way he felt. Even his normally vibrant blue eyes had dulled, the life having left them when his Hope did.
“I’m coming!” he called to the insistent knocker.
When he opened the door to find his mother, Lillian, standing on the step outside, he was floored. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d visited the condo.
“Mom?” he asked in confusion, scratching his bare chest. “What are you doing here?”
She frowned at him, taking in his appearance with a disapproving, motherly gaze. “I’m here to see my son. May I come in?”
He gestured past him into the condo, and she brushed by on her way in.
“Can I get you something to drink, Mom?” He hoped she said no; he didn’t think there was anything but Coors, Corona, and water to choose from.
She shook her head, an impatient look on her face, and waved a hand in the air. “I’m fine, Reed. I’m really just here to talk to you a minute.”
She took a seat on the couch, and he sat across the coffee table from her in an overstuffed chair. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
She eyed him warily. “You look like hell, sweetheart.”
His mother had always been incredibly loving and warm, if not a little flighty and shallow. But sometimes, especially when it came to her children, she saw things they tried to keep hidden deep down inside themselves. And she tried her damnedest to root it out and help them heal. Especially if it was a result of her own actions.
Lillian smoothed her sleek, dark hair, streaked with silver, behind her ears and crossed her ankles demurely. Reed rolled his eyes, because no matter what shit his mother was putting on the shelves, he wasn’t buying. Demure was the last word anyone could use to describe the real Lillian.
“What’s the matter, Reed?”
He settled back onto the chair, staring at a spot above her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? Because at times, you’re prettier than your sister. But right now you look a hot mess. And your father says you’ve been excelling at work. Excelling, Reed. At Hopewell Enterprises?” She shook her head knowingly. “Not my son. Not that you’re not capable of it, but I know you. Your heart’s not anywhere near that company. It’s on a stage somewhere in a city with a hell of a lot more lights than Nelson Island, or even Charleston. Aston hinted at something going on with that girl we met on the Fourth…what was her name, Hope something?”
Without warning, hot moisture stung the backs of his eyes, and he was unable to swallow past the lump that was forming in his throat. His mother, if nothing else, was attuned to him above anyone else, and she had hit the nail on the head. He couldn’t stand to hear Hope’s name from anyone’s mouth, not even Lillian’s.
“Talk to me, baby boy,” she coaxed. “Your momma’s here to listen. Not judge. That’s your daddy’s job.”
He dropped his head into his hands and heaved a huge, shuddering sigh. She was right. If he didn’t get this out, it was going to eat him alive. He wasn’t going to survive it, maybe not even if he talked about it. The ragged hole that stood in the place where his heart used to be was killing him.
“Mom,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “God…I love her. I love her so damn much, and she broke me. I’m shattered because of this woman.”
Lillian’s face was something between heartbreak and determination. She clearly did not plan to fail her son tonight, no matter what happened.
“Tell me about it,” she demanded gently.
The whole story came rushing out. He told his mother everything; about how he’d saved her from an assault when they met, about how he’d felt an immediate attraction to her, about how they’d been drawn into each other’s arms that night at the banquet. He told her about how they’d decided to spend time getting to know each other, how he’d taken her on dates and set up a special dinner at the beach just for her. He explained how they ended up in Atlanta together and how he’d fallen in love with her, and then how Hope had pushed him away without an explanation.
When he finally got to the part where Violet called him with her panicked little voice, and what he’d found when he’d arrived at the hotel, moisture was clinging to his long, thick lashes, and his entire body was trembling.
“Oh, baby,” said Lillian softly. Her hands were folded in her lap as she listened, and the occasional tsk or shake of her head was all the movement she made while her son poured out his heart. “I’m so, so sorry. Women can be complex individuals, sweetheart. I think there’s far more going on with Hope than you can begin to imagine.”
He shook his head. “I wanted to give her everything, Mom. Everything. And she betrayed me. She never told me what was going on. What’s so complex about that?”
Lillian stared hard at Reed, the intensity of her gaze perfectly matching the heat with which her son usually pinned people down. “Reed, the entire time you were with Hope, did she strike you as a liar? Or a cheater?”
He contemplated, and then slowly shook his head. “No. At least I didn’t think so. Guess I was wrong.”
She shook her head, a sad expression entering her eyes. “This is my fault, Reed. Not yours.”
He lifted his head to stare at her. “How can this be your fault?”
A tear of her own slid singularly down one of her perfectly made-up cheeks. “You have trust issues. It’s why you’ve never had a serious girlfriend. And it’s be
cause of me. I know that.”
He shook his head. Seeing his mother cry affected him in a way that nothing else in the world did. He just wanted to make her stop. “Mom, that’s not true. You are an amazing mother.”
She had been, in her own way. She was flighty, and a little thoughtless at times. Her affairs had definitely affected him, but he was younger than Aston when it happened and it had affected his sister even more deeply. She was his mother, the only one he’d ever get. And he loved her. He had forgiven her a long time ago.
She laughed ruefully. “Right. You mean, when I was home? And not doing God-knows-what with other men while your father worked his ass off to get the company off the ground?”
He’d never heard the truth actually fall from her lips. He knew she’d discussed it with Aston, and that she and his father had mended things long ago. But she’d never come right out and admitted her infidelity in front of her son.
It was a lot to take in, heavy and thick and…a relief. It was like taking a deep breath, hearing her admit the truth after all this time.
“You were young, but you knew what was going on,” she said wisely. “And it hurt you. You’ve filed it away in your mind all these years, and you don’t trust women farther than you can throw them.”
He nodded. He couldn’t deny the truth any more than she could deny the fact that she’d cheated on his father multiple times. The damage was done, and they all had issues to work through because of it. Lillian was nearly buried under a pile of guilt. Gregory always felt like he wasn’t enough of a man, causing him to throw himself heart and soul into making the company bigger and better all the time. Reed didn’t trust women, didn’t give his heart away. And Aston still hadn’t forgiven her mother for the hell she’d put their family through all those years ago.
“You’re right,” said Reed quietly. “All of that is probably true, Mom. So I have trust issues. But the point here is, I did trust Hope. Something inside of me recognized her as my other half, as the angel who was sent here just for me. But I was wrong. How am I supposed to come back from that kind of mistake?”
“What if you weren’t wrong?” said Lillian. “I know you, Reed. I’m your momma. You’re sensitive, you’re guarded, and you see people in a way that’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known. You’ve always chosen friends wisely, and I can’t imagine that choosing the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with would be any different. Whatever you saw in Hope was there. You don’t have the whole story, sure, but I know you didn’t misjudge her. You need to find out what’s going on with her. You need to go to her.”
He stared at his mother in disbelief. “Why would I—”
“Oh, for God’s sake, here’s where the stubborn male part of you comes out to play. This isn’t about your ego, baby boy, it’s about finding happiness in a life that’s usually too short to begin with. You said that girl’s your other half? Then she’s yours. And you need to go and get her.”
Something inside Reed stirred. Some deep, ancient instinct told him that his mother was right, and no matter how bruised his heart and ego were, Hope still needed him. Maybe he didn’t know the whole story.
Maybe she needed him now more than she did the very first time he’d met her. Maybe she needed him to save her all over again.
Standing, he kissed his mother on the cheek and ran—sprinted, really—for his truck. He didn’t look back as Lillian shouted after him, her voice light with happiness and excitement.
“Stop at the ranch, honey! You know what to look for. Now’s the time, baby boy!”
He nodded, more to himself than in response to her words, because at last he knew exactly what he was looking for.
He pulled out his phone the second he was moving, the sound of his big engine revving in the background as he made the call.
“Morrow,” he snapped through gritted teeth when the other man answered. “Where is she?”
It didn’t matter where she was, he was on his way to her. But first, he was going to stop at his parents’ ranch and pick up his grandmother’s antique engagement ring.
Twenty-Five
Hope sat in a rocking chair on Morrow’s row-house porch, staring at the street beyond as a carriage pulled by two lazy horses clopped past on the old cobblestone. Her chin rested in one hand, an untouched glass of sweet tea on the table next to her, the ice in the glass melted long ago thanks to the heavy southern heat.
The screen door swung open adjacent to her, but she didn’t move a muscle. She’d been sitting here for hours… no, maybe at this point it had been days.
She had an appointment with an attorney this afternoon. She was ready to fight for her sister, and she finally had the leverage she needed to do it. Only, in the meantime, Violet was still living with Frank and Wendy. They had taken away Violet’s phone. Worry was ripping her insides apart.
After Reed left her in the alley, she couldn’t bring herself to go back inside the hotel. She’d called Morrow to pick her up, and the entire story had poured out. Morrow had taken her home, where Wendy had thrown her stuff out in the driveway.
Without allowing her to stay and fight, Morrow had thrown her back in the car and taken her to his house.
She’d been unable to see her sister for seven days. She had no idea if Wendy was hurting her, but she could guess that Violet was suffering. And that alone could have killed her. But her heart was doubly broken, because she knew she’d never lay eyes on Reed again.
“Hey, girl,” said Morrow, his voice not quite penetrating the malaise that hung over Hope over the last week. “I brought you something to eat.”
His spirit remained strong and steady in spite of it all, and for that she was grateful. She counted on Morrow for so much more than he knew. And right now, she counted on him not to pity her, not to fall apart on her because she’d lost everything. She needed his strength above all else, and that was exactly what he’d been giving her.
“This too shall pass,” he said. “At least that’s what my grandmamma told me whenever bad shit happened. And you know that for me, a lot of bad shit happened, Hope. She was always right. That meeting you have with the attorney, you’re gonna get Violet back. It’s only a matter of time.”
She sighed. “I know. But I wish I could afford the best attorney out there. I know Frank will have the best backing him up, and with power on his side...it’s still not a slam dunk.”
The horse-drawn carriage, with its two blissful riders lounging back in the seat, taking in historic Charleston, ambled past and the street became quiet and empty. Hope thought it was fitting; the gaping cavity in her chest was exactly the same.
The plate of honey and biscuits Morrow had set next to her tea was fragrant, and she knew that the gnawing in her stomach was hunger; she also knew that once she filled it, the gnawing would only be replaced by nausea. She ignored the plate.
“Let’s talk about Reed.” Morrow crossed his arms over his chest.
Hope flinched. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“I think you should. You need help with Frank, Hope. You can’t do this on your own. Help is on the way. I want you to get ready.”
“What do you mean, ‘Help is on the way’?” she asked. “What kind of help?”
As she spoke, she was aware of a deep rumbling a few blocks away, one that she would never forget. One she thought she’d never hear again.
“Row?” she asked, aiming a heartbroken glance into his eyes. “What’d you do?”
He continued to hold her, but stared right back into her eyes as he spoke. “I know you well enough to know better, Hope. I did nothing, I swear. All I did was answer my phone.”
She stood, raising a shaking hand to her eyes to shield the sunlight’s glare as she searched and was rewarded with the only thing she’d wanted to see since the night in the alley last weekend. Reed’s Silverado, skidding to a stop at the curb beyond Morrow’s front walk.
“Reed.” She breathed, one hand over her mouth and the other squeezing hersel
f around the stomach.
The truck door slammed behind Reed’s hurtling form and he was on the walk, up the steps, and standing in front of Hope in two seconds flat.
Morrow kissed her cheek and nodded at Reed. Then he disappeared into the house.
“Baby,” said Reed, his voice more full of anguish and misery than she’d ever heard it. More than she’d ever heard in anyone’s. “I’m—”
She shook her head and took a step farther so that they were only inches apart. “Don’t. Let me speak first, Reed. You deserve that much.”
He nodded, his blue eyes soaking her up, hungrily absorbing her every feature, his ears taking in her every word.
“I didn’t sleep with Nathan last weekend,” she blurted out. It felt amazing to tell him that, because she knew he had spent the entire last week thinking otherwise. The words left her lips and she was lighter, freer, for having said them.
“That was the plan, that was the intention, but I would never have been able to go through with it, Reed. Even if you hadn’t shown up that night. It’s not who I am.”
She sank down into her chair, and Reed pulled up the other rocker and scooted it over so that their knees were touching. He grabbed both of her hands in his, smoothing the skin on top with his thumbs. He just listened, which was more comforting than anything else he could have done at that moment.
“Me and Violet didn’t have the best upbringing,” she began. She explained to him about how Wendy had always struggled with stability and finding a man to fill the void in her life two daughters just couldn’t fix. She told him how she brought home man after man, some who used, some who drank, and some who hit. She told Reed about what she’d seen in her living room at two in the morning on so many occasions, and about how she had to barricade her door at night merely to be left alone in her own bed.
Reed’s sharp intakes of breath, muttered curses, and the pain in his eyes while he listened to her story nearly stopped her more than once, but she forged on because she needed to tell it, and he needed to know it.
