War Hope: War Series Book Two

by Nicole Lynne

  “I do not have crabs,” he says, flopping back on the sofa and throwing an arm over his face.

  “Yeah, alright Sebastian.”

  “What?”

  “Dear god, watch Disney, you uncultured fucker.” I try and point towards the DVDs but fuck, the room is spinning.

  Kyan doesn’t reply. He’s probably passed out. I go into my room and flop down on the bed. I’m drifting into unconsciousness when my boob starts vibrating. Frowning, I lift my head and dig in my bra, pulling out my phone.

  I swipe the screen, squinting against the bright backlight.

  "Hello," I croak.

  "Hope." The sound of his voice makes my heart race and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up even as heat unfurls throughout my body. My head instantly clears, all traces of my alcoholic haze diminishing.

  "Silas," I whisper, his name getting stuck in my throat.

  "I need you," he slurs. His voice breaks on the words. He's drunk. I squeeze my eyes shut and press my lips together as I pull the phone away from my ear and clutch it in both hands. I should hang up. I should always hang up when he calls, but he's like my chosen brand of heroin. He's nothing but pain and heartache and he leaves me a trembling, broken mess every time I give in to my twisted addiction, but the high—fuck. He's like no one else. I press the phone to my ear again, fully aware of the drill.

  "What do you want?" I ask.

  His heavy breaths blow across the line. "I'm so fucking lost without you, baby."

  My heart clenches. God, if I could rip the treacherous thing out of my chest I would. It will always trip over itself for him though. He's my first love. My first kiss, the first guy I ever slept with, and the first guy to break my heart. No, he didn't break my heart, he pulverised it, shattered it and ground it into dust and yet, here I am: barely able to breathe at the sound of his voice. That familiar mixture of longing and crippling hurt swirls through my chest and I feel like that pathetic, heartbroken teenager that he managed to epically fuck over all those years ago.

  "You're fine, Silas. You're just drunk."

  "No. No." There's a pause. "I'm never fine without you." I can picture him sat in his apartment in Dublin, dragging his hand through his black hair, clenching his fists over and over the same way he always does when he's having a moment like this. My pitiful heart loves to think that he means what he says, that he really needs me. But tomorrow he'll sober up, he'll pull his shit together and then I won't hear from him for months, until the next time he feels like his life is spiralling out of control. Then he'll call me, and I'll tell myself not to answer, but I always will. As a woman, I always want to be strong, to tell him to go fuck himself. Any other guy and I would, but he is my exception, the gaping hole in my chest that can never be filled.

  "Silas, it's late. You're drunk. Go and sleep it off. In the morning, you'll forget we even spoke." It's the painful truth.

  "You always say that," he says. "I never forget you, Hope. Never forget what you say, not a single fucking word." Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous. That word rings through my mind on repeat.

  I dig down deep and find some lady balls. "Silas, I'm hanging up and I'm going to sleep," I say.

  There's a beat of silence and, for some reason, I wait for his response instead of just hanging up the phone like I should. "I miss you," he says quietly. "I always fucking miss you." His voice trails off until it's nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

  I scramble to hang up the phone before tossing it on the bed with trembling hands. My heart races in my chest as a lump settles in my throat. This is what Silas does to me. He inflicted a wound that I've come to think I will never fully recover from. At just the sound of his voice, the scab comes off and I start bleeding out all over again. Years. This has been going on for years. I should block his number, reject his calls, but I never do because I know just how fucked up he is. Silas could make Brandon look like a trip to Disneyland some days. The difference is, Brandon never set out to hurt Poppy, emotionally or physically. Silas would never physically hurt me but emotionally...emotionally that boy has cut me a thousand times. And yet I keep taking his calls because the part of me that will probably forever be in love with him fears what will happen that one time I don't.

  It's this fucked up cycle that damages only me. I feel like I'll constantly be pulled into his chaotic orbit. I hate him. I love him. It's absolute fucking shit.

  I flop back against the pillows, but I can't sleep. All I can think of is the pain of his betrayal and my subsequent heartbreak. And then, somewhere in all the rehashed shit show, Finn pops into my mind. I have no idea why but I'll take any distraction from Silas, no matter if it is Finn with his foul moods.

  I worry about him. I don't want to see him turn into Silas or Brandon. He can be saved, I know he can. I just have to try harder.

  8

  Finn

  I jolt awake with a gasp. Fucking dreams. My pulse hammers so fast I can barely catch my breath. My entire body is covered in sweat, the sheets beneath me drenched. I instantly get up and start stripping the sheets like a ritual. I throw the bedding in the hamper and go to the bathroom, shoving my boxers down my legs. I clutch the edge of the sink and glance in the mirror for a second. My eyes land on the array of thick silver lines neatly criss-crossed down my sides. I spend every day trying to forget the things that haunt my mind and fail miserably. I climb into the shower and allow the hot water to wash over my tense muscles, but it does nothing to wash away the nightmare.

  I don’t go back to bed, instead I sit up, playing my guitar while shitty late night TV flickers in the background. It’s here, as night transitions into the early hours of the morning that it seems you may be the only person in the world. The impending sense of loneliness wraps around me, and then my phone beeps. I lean forward, glancing at the screen.

  Hope: We’re going to the fair tomorrow. Don’t bitch about it. I promise to bring you food. 

  I find myself smiling as I sit back. I guess I’m not the only person awake at 3AM. But what could possibly plague Hope enough to keep her awake? Surely the Irish princess can’t have a care in the world?

  It’s nearly 4:30 by the time I get home from the school run and park my motorcycle against the curb. The sun is sitting low in the sky, the last of its warmth touching my skin. A few stray leaves skip down the pavement, autumn declaring itself. I open the front door of my building, climb the stairs to the first floor, and unlock my door. The second the door opens I hear the TV. It instantly jolts me. The only person who has ever had a key to my apartment was Brandon. Pushing the door wider open, I round the corner of the hallway and find Hope sprawled on my couch, her red hair spilling around her. The short black dress she’s wearing rides dangerously high on her thighs, exposing the pale skin between her skirt and the tops of her over the knee boots.

  She laughs at something on the TV before flicking her gaze to me, a grin plastered on her face.

  "How did you get in here?" I ask.

  "Through the door." She flashes me an incredulous look.

  I sigh and eye the key on the coffee table. I move to take it, but she sits up and swipes it, shoving it inside her bra. "Hope," I sigh. She's annoying as fuck. I just want to be left alone to do my own shit. I don't know how many different ways I can say I'm fine. Poppy may need Hope but I don't, so why the hell she insists on coming here... "You got a key cut?"

  "What do you take me for? A fucking stalker? No, Poppy had it. If you have a problem with me turning up here perhaps you should have opened the door when I knocked all those times. I knew you were in here. I could hear the TV." She glares at me. "That's just plain rude."

  Most normal people would take a hint. "You can't just break into my apartment."

  "It's not breaking and entering if you have a key." I stare blankly at her and she rolls her eyes. She slaps playfully at my chest. "Oh, come on, Finnley, lighten the fuck up. It's not like you found me wandering around the place naked like some psycho ex."

  I shake my he
ad and walk into the kitchen. I don't even know what to say to her half the time.

  "What do you want for dinner?" She shouts from the living room and I groan, dragging my hands down my face.

  I take a beer from the fridge and go to my bedroom, closing the door behind me. I don't have a lock because I live on my fucking own! But if I did, I'd bolt it. I take my phone from my pocket and stare at it, wondering who the hell I can call to come and save me. I just want to be on my own, to live my life the way I want. I don't like change. I don't like the unexpected. I haven't always been this way, but it's necessary. Control and predictability are my greatest allies now. I sit here, hiding in my room from the crazy ginger chick in my apartment. I just want an easy life. Is that too much to ask for?

  "Dinner, Finn!" Hope screams. "Either we eat here or you're buying me candy floss."

  I get up and throw the door open, walking back through the apartment until I find her in the kitchen with the fridge door open.

  "What are you talking about?" I ask, frowning, even as I stare at her arse. I can't help it. She's bent over, head practically in the freezer as she rummages through things. With every movement, she makes, her skirt inches up her long, toned thighs. I inhale and force myself to look away.

  "Pizza?" she asks.

  "I don't eat pizza," I say.

  She turns and stares at me. "Who the fuck doesn't eat pizza? You've got issues, Finn." She brushes past me. "Serious issues."

  I frown. I have issues? "I don't eat shit." Why won't she leave?

  "You only live once." She grabs her purse from the floor. Thank god. "Fine, a hot dog and candy floss it is." And then I remember her text about the fair. Fuck. She narrows her eyes at me, and grabs my arm, yanking me forward. "Come on. Live a little, Finn. We'll be there an hour, we'll ride the Ferris wheel, and I'll whip you on the bumper cars." I'm struggling to think of anything worse than the fair. All the noise, people, flashing lights...and Hope, who is hard work at the best of times. "You owe me a massive cuddly toy. Come on, you might have fun." She smirks at me.

  Jesus-fuck. This is going to be awful. I should tell her no but she did bring me food, so I just follow her to the door and down the stairs to the car. She's annoying as all fuck, but she does most of the talking, which is fine by me, and something about her—I find entertaining I guess.

  9

  Hope

  The scent of cheap meat and onions drifts across the fairground. I love the fair. I always have. My father was always busy with his work but would always take time out to take me and my sister, Teagan to the fair. I've always loved it. Finn trails behind me, looking completely out of place and uncomfortable. His fists are clenched and his jaw ticks with the tension. His eyes dart around, his body twitching with every noise. A couple of screaming kids run past him and he darts out of their path, glaring at them.

  I reach out and grab his hand, threading my fingers through his. His expression remains set in that deep scowl while he stares down at our now linked hands.

  "Come on," I say, dragging him towards the bumper cars. He allows me to pull him through the crowds and I know he's probably sulking about me holding his hand, but if it keeps him from jumping on some unsuspecting child, I'll hold his damn hand. I glance at the house of horrors, but quickly decide against it. I can only imagine what he'll do if something or someone jumps out at him, but I can't help but smile at the thought of how annoyed he'd be. Bumper cars. The cage. The Ferris wheel. I pull him over to the booth for the bumper cars and buy two tokens. He stands with his back to the booth, inhaling on his vape pen with his free hand shoved deep in his pocket. His shoulders hunch slightly as he sulks. He looks so far out of his comfort zone.

  "This way Finnley." I jerk my head to the side and he pushes off the booth, following me to the side of the rink. Loud music blares and lights flash as kids and adults both whiz around in little sparkly bumper cars. I glance at him and his eyes are narrowed. "Are you okay?" I ask, wondering if I've pushed him a little too far. He nods.

  "Yeah. I just don't like noise." Well, shit. It doesn't get much noisier than this place.

  "Why not?"

  Slowly, he turns his gaze to me. I expect him to come out with some gnarly remark, but instead his eyes just lock on mine, like he’s debating on what to say. "The noise dulls the senses. You can't hear an approaching threat."

  "It's the fair, Finn, not a war zone," I try to reassure him. He turns, facing straight ahead as he brings the vape pen to his lips.

  "Everywhere is a war zone."

  It's times like this when he reminds me of Silas, of Brandon. They all have their own set of issues, but fundamentally they're all just a little bit broken, irreparably so.

  The claxon sounds out and all the bumper cars come to a stop. People climb out and there's a flurry of people pouring from the sides of the ring to claim a car. I jump in a blue one and point at a pink glittery one next to me.

  "Get in," I say to Finn. He looks from me to the bumper car and back again. "Quickly. Before someone else gets it." I fight a smile. Perhaps it's mean that I find his grouchy ways so amusing. He sighs heavily, his chest rising and falling with the effort, and then he's folding his enormous frame into the little pink bumper car. I try not to laugh, I do. I try. It's when he scowls at me with his legs folded up around his ears that I lose it. I laugh until I can't breathe and tears stream down my face. The claxon goes off again and the disco music starts, but I'm literally incapacitated from laughing. Bang. I'm jolted forward with such force that I sprawl against the little steering wheel. I glance over my shoulder and see Finn smirking as he reverses and then slams into me again.

  "That's not fair!" I shout, pressing my foot down on the accelerator. My bumper car spins in erratic circles. I do a three sixty, passing Finn. "You can't catch..." I spin again, “a girl when she's unaware." Another circle. When I pass Finn, he's laughing. "Mine is broken!" I shout.

  "Turn the wheel!" he yells over the music.

  I turn the wheel and it stops spinning before shooting forward. Finn whizzes off and I start laughing again. He looks so ridiculous. I accidentally drive into a kid and the little fucker flips me off.

  "Little cunt," I mutter under my breath.

  Finn makes it his mission to smash into me as many times as possible. He also gets flipped off by the ASBO child and his raised eyebrows crack me up.

  By the time we get out of the bumper cars, my face hurts from laughing. A smile graces Finn's lips as he takes my hand and helps me down the steps, to the worn grass. His eyes linger on my face and I feel a hint of a blush creep into my cheeks. "What?" I say.

  "Nothing.” He looks away. “I guess I have to buy you your gross candy floss now?"

  I hook my arm through his, smiling wide as we walk through the crowd. He's still twitchy, but he makes more of an effort to ignore me. I keep him talking, focused on me instead of everyone around him. I have no idea whether it's working, but fuck it.

  I wait beside the ball toss stand while he queues for candy floss. He towers over everyone around him, his stance rigid and making him look unapproachable. My phone buzzes. I glance down at the screen: Text Message Silas. My stomach knots and I quickly shove my phone in my pocket, refusing to read it now. I glance up just as Finn walks over to me, his nose wrinkled as he hands me an enormous ball of pink candy floss on a stick. "You realise that is literally just sugar and e numbers, right?"

  Forcing a smile, I take it from him. "Yep."

  His brows pinch together and he squints at me. "What's wrong?"

  I pause, my heart picking up for a second. I feel like a rabbit in head lights. How does he even know anything is wrong? "Nothing. I'm fine," I attempt to brush it off, but his face doesn't shift. I spin a piece of candy floss around my finger and shove it in my mouth, slowly sucking the sugary goodness from my finger.

  His eyes drop to my lips and he is, without doubt, distracted. "Let's do the Ferris wheel,” I say as I point at the ride towering over the entire fair. And, here comes t
he scowl.

  I take off towards the Ferris wheel. When I glance over my shoulder he's just standing there. "Come on, Finnley. I'll share my candy floss with you." I wave the pink puff through the air, laughing at his grouchy face.

  "I'm not putting that shit in my body." He huffs.

  "It's okay, big guy. You can keep your muscles." I pat his bulging arm as he walks beside me.

  He shakes his head just as we come to the back of the line.

  The pikey at the Ferris wheel swipes his sweaty palms down his tracksuit bottoms, grinning at me and staring at my tits. Finn clears his throat and slides an arm around my waist. My gaze snaps to his, but he's focused on the pikey, glaring at him. Jesus, what's gotten up his arse?

  I hand the guy a fiver, being sure to drop it into his waiting palm to avoid making physical contact with him. The next bucket comes around and he grabs it, holding it still.

  "In ya get, sweetheart," the guy says. I skate around him and climb in.

  Finn drops onto the seat next to me and the bucket swings precariously. He has to hang his arm over the edge in order to fit in and not have his body pressed against mine.

  I pinch off pieces of candy floss and pop them in my mouth. "Sure you don't want any?"