“What did you think of the movie?” she asks as the credits roll on the screen.
“Eh…I expected it to be better,” I admit.
“Me too; it was very predictable.”
“In the first ten minutes, I knew who the killer was.”
“Me too! Could they have made it any more obvious?”
I glance over just in time to catch her yawning. When she raises her hands above her head, I am afforded another glimpse of her bare skin. Something on her stomach catches my eye, but before I can figure it out, she blushes and pulls her shirt down, obviously having caught me looking.
“I think I’m going to head to bed,” she announces a few minutes later.
“Me too.”
I check the locks on both doors while Hope throws away the paper plates and pizza box we used. I follow her down the hall to our bedrooms which are right across from one another.
“Good night.” She turns to me and once again it’s as if the world stops. I must be losing my mind because I swear her eyes are begging me to kiss her again. It takes everything in me to not give in to her request. The only reason I’m hesitant is because I can’t tell if this is something she wants or if I’m just projecting my own desires onto her.
“Night.”
I hear her close the door just before I close my own. I head to my bathroom, undress, and turn on the steaming shower. As has become my nightly ritual this week, as I step under the scalding water, my thoughts drift back to the wonderful night in the hotel when I first met Hope. I slowly stroke myself, remembering how it felt the moment I slid into her, the way her body gripped me tightly every time I moved, the way she moaned beneath me and her expression when she finally let herself go.
“Hope,” I hiss as the evidence of my memory splashes against the shower tile.
It’s a sorry comparison to the real thing, but since holding her close to me at the charity dinner, all of those feelings have been rekindling. I wish we had met under different circumstances; I wish we could have made a go of it back then, but since I was shipping out in a few days, it wasn’t possible. I wish things weren’t so complicated between us now.
It takes me awhile to fall asleep. My thoughts keep going back to that night and searching for possible ways to explore what is obviously still between us without impacting our professional relationship. Sometime well after midnight, I give up and finally fall asleep.
“Help me someone!” I wake up to the sound of Hope screaming.
I rush out of my room, to her bedroom door only to find it still locked. It only takes me a moment to run back to my room and grab the keys and open her door using the master key I have. The site before me nearly brings me to my knees. She’s thrashing about in her bed, tangled in blankets, as she tries to shove someone or something off her. She alternates between whimpering and screaming out in pain as she continues to struggle.
“Hope! Wake up! Hope!” I call out repeatedly.
I’ve never heard her have a nightmare before; up until now I just assumed she suffered from insomnia. Seeing her now, there is no doubt in my mind this must be what wakes her up each night.
No matter how many times I call her name, she doesn’t respond. I have no idea what to do, but I know I need to do something. I can’t leave her like this until she wakes up on her own. I try calling out to her again as I cautiously approach her bed, worried that I might startle her even more.
Remembering how she helped me after my nightmare, I cautiously slide into bed next to her. She doesn’t respond, not even acknowledging that someone is in the bed with her. She’s lying on her back, whimpering, but thankfully the screaming seems to have stopped. Occasionally her arm reaches out to shove something or someone away from her. I place my hand on her arm, trying to comfort her, but again I get no response.
“No one can hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you again,” I vow.
She startles me by moving to her side suddenly, facing away from me. I take a chance and gently start rubbing her back, trying to soothe her. As my fingers draw circles on her bare skin, her breathing begins to slow, and I think the nightmare finally leaves her. I debate for a few moments about returning to my bedroom but ultimately decide to stay. I move closer to her, wrapping my arm around her waist to hold her against me.
Surprisingly, I easily fell back to sleep as soon as Hope was calmed down. When I finally do wake up, I’m startled to find her looking at me. My arm is still around her stomach, but she’s now lying on her back, her head turned to face me.
“What…how…?” she stutters obviously trying to make sense of finding me in her bed.
“You had a nightmare,” I shrug.
“You heard me?” she says so quietly that I can barely hear her.
The moment I nod in response, her eyes close. I don’t know if she’s embarrassed or simply trying to figure out what to say or if she just wishes I wasn’t here. I knew I shouldn’t have fallen asleep in here. I knew I should have gone back to my bedroom, but there was no way I could just leave her after that.
“Is it the same every night?” I cautiously ask.
Her eyes don’t open, but after a moment or so she nods.
“How long have you had them?”
“About two and a half years.”
My breathing nearly stops at her words. The idea of her suffering for this long killing me. I’ve heard her up at night, leaving the apartment to go to the gym at the wee hours of the morning, not sleeping. No wonder why she’s so exhausted by the end of the day. I don’t know how she’s survived this long with so little sleep each night.
“I’m so sorry, Hope.” I have no idea what I’m supposed to say; as much as I want her to tell me what happened to prevent her from sleeping, I don’t want to cause her any more pain.
“Do you…want to talk about it?”
“No.” She finally opens her eyes to look at me. They’re both tear and fear filled at the same time. “But I know I have to.”
“If you don’t want to—”
“I need to…we need…” Her tear filled eyes find mine, begging me for something, but I don’t know what.
I do the only thing I can think of in that moment; I pull her closer to me, so we’re both lying on our sides facing each other. I slip my arm under her pillow, while the other holds her firmly against me. She doesn’t seem to know what to do with her hands as she fumbles with them between us. Her breathing is shaky as she tries to blink away the tears threatening to fall.
“Are you sure?” I ask
She nods, but doesn’t say anything else.
“The night we…after the wedding…”
Fuck!
How did I not put the timing together? She said it happened two and a half years ago, she avoids talking about the night we met at all costs—Fuck I should have seen this coming. I should have known something happened that night.
“My phone…it kept vibrating in my purse. It woke me up.” Her voice is distant, almost as if she’s separated herself from what happened. Her eyes stay glued to my shoulder, but her hands grip my shirt tightly. “It was a hospital…my dad…”
“It’s okay, Hope.” I gently rub her back as the tears she had been holding in finally fall.
“The nurse said my dad…” she takes a deep breath before continuing, “he was in an accident and was in surgery. She said I needed to come right away.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I have no idea what else to say. I suspected something must have happened for her to leave so suddenly, especially after she assured me it had nothing to do with something that I did. But I wasn’t expecting this. I can’t believe I slept through all of this. I’m usually an incredibly light sleeper; I should have woken up the moment she started talking on the phone. I could have helped get her to the hospital, I could have—
“I threw on what clothes I could find and ran down to the lobby. The doorman called a cab for me. It would have cost too much to have him drive me to the hospital. It was a three hou
r drive, plus at that hour of the night…” She shakes her head. “I should have spent the money, I should have let the cab drive me home.”
“Where did it take you?”
“To a bus terminal. I bought a ticket, but the closest I could get to the hospital was still a few miles away. From there I had to take a second bus, but the staff in the terminal insisted it would drop me right in front of the hospital. I didn’t think it would be a big deal to switch busses. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You were thinking of getting closer to your dad.”
I kick myself again for sleeping through this. I could have driven her to the hospital. Hell, I could have insisted she take a cab there and would have paid for it if she wouldn’t have let me drive her. There’s no way I would have let her get on a bus alone in the middle of the night.
“I tried calling Abby after I bought my ticket, but she didn’t answer and as I was leaving her a voice-mail my phone went dead. The bus came a few minutes later; it was pretty empty. It stopped at a small bus shelter where I needed to wait for the next bus. It was cold and dark…”
“Shhhhh,” I gently rub her back as her breathing becomes more erratic.
“I never heard…I didn’t see him…”
“Hope…” My heart absolutely breaks. I want to tell her to stop, to tell her she doesn’t need to tell me what happened that night. I don’t want to cause her any more pain than she’s already experiencing. “You don’t need to tell me, if you don’t want to.”
She doesn’t say anything. I don’t know if she even heard what I said. I try to comfort her, but I doubt it’s working. I’m barely keeping my own emotions in check. All I can think about finding some way to make her stop hurting.
“He pushed me down…and dragged me by my hair into an alley.” Her voice is just barely there as she recounts the worst night of her life. In that moment, I understand why she never wanted to talk about the night we met. The memory of that night is tainted for her; what should have been a happy memory for her was ruined.
“I screamed and begged for help, but no one came,” she continues a few moments later. “He slammed me against a brick wall. He held my throat…so tight, I couldn’t breathe or scream again. He dumped my purse on the ground and cursed because I didn’t have much cash in it. Maybe a few dollars, I think. I never carry cash. He was so angry. He gripped my throat harder, I couldn’t breathe—”
“Shhhh,” When her body starts shaking, I cut her off. I gently tug her closer to me, until there’s no space between us and gently rock her back and forth. “No one can hurt you again; I won’t let anyone hurt you, Hope.”
I think she might be having a panic attack; I remember a guy having one once when he first shot someone on his first tour. Hope is breathing heavy and fast like he was; she can’t seem to catch her breath. I try saying her name softly, but nothing seems to pull her from the memory. I consider finding her phone and calling Abby to see if she would know what I should do, but I don’t want to leave Hope to do that. So I simply hold her against me, forcing my own breathing to be slow and steady hoping that it will somehow help her calm down. After several long minutes it seems to be helping, somewhat at least. Her breathing is slower, but her body is still incredibly tense against mine. She doesn’t try to push me away and instead continues to grip my shirt tightly in her fist.
“I remember this incredible pain before…I passed out,” she eventually continues. “I came to when he started kicking my ribs. I was on the ground…I remember looking up to find him staring at me while smoking a cigarette. I tried screaming, but my throat was so sore from him grabbing it. Every time I tried to talk it hurt. I tried to crawl away, but he grabbed my legs…”
“Hope,” I gasp at the thought of what she went through. “It’s okay. He won’t hurt you again.”
“I was so scared. I was convinced he was going to kill me.”
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I slept through you talking on the phone and…I’m sorry you went through that, Hope.”
“He pushed my dress up.” I clench my hands, trying to school the anger that is threatening to burst through with what I know is coming. Never did I think this is where we would be when I walked in here last night. I had no idea this was the nightmare she relives nearly every night; the one that sends her to the gym before dawn or makes her fall asleep on the living room couch when exhaustion finally takes over. “He…he burned me…with…”
“Oh, baby,” I bury my face in her neck as I try to hold her.
“It hurt so bad, Garrett,” she sobs into my chest. “I screamed, louder than I think I’ve ever screamed. Finally, someone came.”
“Thank God.”
I don’t know how long we lie there like that. I’m too stunned by her confession to think about anything other than how I could find this sorry excuse for a human being and make him pay. Everything makes sense now: her refusal to talk about that night, how she avoids talking about her dad, why she insists on locking her bedroom door at night and how overly cautious she is. I’m stunned that she still has the ability to trust anyone, especially me; I must be a constant reminder of that night for her. Yet, she has been nothing but kind towards me since I moved in here. As I look down at her in my arms, I realize the toll this has taken on her as she is now fast asleep against my chest.
Chapter 18
Hope
I’m thankful things haven’t changed between us since our talk the other night. We are still just as comfortable around each other as we were before. When I first woke up in Garrett’s arms after reliving that horrible night, I was convinced he would look at me differently or somehow treat me differently. Instead, he just asked if I was okay and let me know that if I ever wanted to talk about it, he would be there for me. He then ran out to grab us a breakfast from a nearby bakery and we spent the rest of the day watching movies together.
Tonight we’re all going to some club that Abby has been wanting to go to for awhile. Garrett’s brother, Chris, is going to meet us there along with Abby. I knew Abby wouldn’t have an issue with Garrett inviting Chris along; she’s always been the more the merrier type. Of course she asked if his brother was as hot as Garrett. I pleaded the fifth.
I made us a late dinner before we head out to the club, which we eat together as usual. We’re both seated at the small table in the kitchen, chatting while we finish our meatloaf dinner.
“Have you heard from Mr. Meyer?” I ask over dinner. Garrett had complained yesterday that Mr. Meyer wasn’t answering his texts or phone calls.
“He finally texted me late last night letting me know everything was fine. He didn’t know if he would be home tomorrow night or Monday yet.”
“At least he got back to you.”
“I suppose.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Can I ask you something about that night, Hope?”
“Um…I guess.” He caught me completely by surprise.
“You never mentioned your dad’s accident. Is he okay?”
“I think I’m going to get a beer, do you want one?” I walk into the kitchen without waiting for his reply.
“Sure.”
I grab two bottles from the fridge before heading back to the small table where Garrett waits patiently for me. His brown eyes question me, obviously wondering what the random change in topic was about. I put the bottle in front of him before sitting back down.
“He was hit head-on by a drunk driver who ran a stop sign. He had a lot of injuries and…after three weeks, his body couldn’t fight any longer.”
“I’m so sorry, Hope.” He reaches across the table and grips my hand tightly.
“My dad and I were very close. We lived about an hour apart, but we talked at least three to four times a week.” I smile sadly at the memory.
“Are you close with your mom?”
“No, I haven’t seen her in about four or five years now.”
“She didn’t visit after…” his voice trails off which I’m thankful for.
I know what he’s asking, what he’s referring to.
“No,” I can’t hide the resentment I still feel for her. “Abby was the only person who visited me in the hospital and then sat with me and my dad.”
“How long were you in the hospital?”
“About a week.” I have to pause to think because those days were difficult to tell apart. “I needed surgery to stop internal bleeding. I think they determined he stabbed me seven or eight times. I had lost a lot blood and slipped into a coma for two days following surgery.”
“Hope,” he gasps.
“They said there was no permanent damage, so I’m lucky in that sense. I needed physical therapy for a while afterwards to help with the muscles, though.”
“I’m so sorry for what happened that night. I wish I would have woken up. I never sleep soundly, I don’t know how I slept through you talking on the phone and then leaving.”
“Must have been the alcohol,” I joke desperately trying to lighten the mood.
“Or all that physical exertion.” He smirks.
“Or that.” I can feel my face heat up at his innuendo.
After we clean up the dinner dishes, I call Abby and chat with her for a little while before we both need to get ready. She’s beyond surprised that I told Garrett about that night, even though she’s been encouraging me to do so since he moved in here. As hard as it was, now that he knows it’s like a huge burden has been lifted off me. She doesn’t say I told you so which she was entitled to say. We hang up and get ready, knowing we’ll be seeing each other soon.
“Wow…you look…wow,” Garrett says the moment I step into the living room where he’s waiting in a pair of jeans and a fitted navy blue collared shirt.
“Thanks,” I blush.
I’m wearing a fitted sweater dress that falls just to the middle of my thighs with boots that I splurged on after my first paycheck from Mr. Meyer. They’re not something I would usually buy, but I love the way they look with a dress like this. They come up to just below my knees and have a small heel. I’m not very creative with my hair, so I just put it up and added a little make up to cover my tired eyes.
Garrett (Dark Water Security Book 2) Page 10
