War Hope: War Series Book Two

by Nicole Lynne

  "Silas." His name barely makes it past my lips.

  His eyes drop to my lips as he steps inside, his hand immediately wrapping around the back of my neck before he pushes me against the wall. I turn my head to the side and breathe hard.

  "What are you doing?" I whisper.

  "I miss you, baby." He inches closer and my heart goes haywire, thumping and pounding against my chest. His warm lip brushes mine and then he kisses me, his soft lips and distinct taste of cinnamon all too familiar. My legs go weak for only a moment before I'm able to snap myself out of this fog. Placing my palms against his hard chest, I shove him away.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my heart to slow. "What the fuck are you doing here?" I try to force an edge in my voice, but I sound weak. I'm always fucking weak with him. I hate myself right now.

  "I don't know what I have to do to convince you I'm sorry." He stares at me and too many memories flood my mind. I loved him. I did...but sometimes, no matter how much it hurts, you have to know when to let go. And I let him go.

  I think of him and Teagan and that cold rage returns in an instant. Two years disappear in the blink of an eye and I'm right back in that room with him ripping my heart out. "You fucked my sister, Silas." I grab the edge of the door, holding it open because he is leaving. "There are some things so shameless, sorry won't touch it." I mean, really? Sorry I stuck my dick in your sister. God it hurts, this deep ache squeezing my heart like a fist. I don't need this today.

  His chin drops to his chest on a sigh and then he drags his hands through his hair. "I fucked up. Hope," he glances up and steps toward me, "you know I'm fucked up. Broken. I try to—"

  "Stop. Having issues is not an excuse for being a fucking prize dick." I know he's broken, I always knew.

  As a naïve sixteen-year-old I found the hot older guy irresistible. I wanted to stick it to my daddy by having Silas stick it to me. I was so easily led. He made me fall for him and, as with all first loves, I fell hard. I truly believe the heart never really recovers from that. Poppy never got over Brandon even when she was happily married to Connor. The heart wants what the heart wants. And my heart is like a sick junkie begging for a fix.

  "Two years, baby...two years. Can't you forgive me?" He trails his fingers over my cheek and I have to fight not to fall into his touch. Silas has always been like a fire that has no hope of being put out completely. "You know we were right for each other."

  He steps closer and I back up until my shoulder blades are against the cool wall. I close my eyes and swallow heavily. I can feel the heat from his body. He's so close to me. His fingers sweep from my cheek to my throat, dancing along the top of my breast. My skin breaks out in goose bumps and I fight a shiver. Goddamn him. Hot breath washes over the side of my face and I turn my face to the side in an attempt to move my lips away from him. All it does is expose my neck. His warm lips press against the spot just below my ear and his tongue sweeps over the skin.

  "Baby, please..." he murmurs against my ear.

  Images flash through my mind and I remember how good he used to make me feel. His hands glide over my waist and it's all so familiar, soothing in a twisted way. He makes it hard to push him away because before he broke me he was my everything and we were perfect. I thought we had a love to rival the greats. How quickly he tore down my childish dreams. Just like that, the torturous images of him fucking my bitch of a sister spring to mind. I can never forget it. That memory is like a bucket of ice cold water being thrown at me.

  "Stop," I say, pushing against him, my nails digging into his stomach. His lips pause before he slowly pulls away, his eyes meeting mine. His dark brows pull together in a frown, his eyes searching mine.

  Suddenly, he looks confused and it allows me a moment to gather myself. "Don't look so surprised, Silas. I got over you a long time ago. You need to leave."

  His hands drop from my body, but he doesn't step back. "You'll never be over me, and I'll never be over you," he says.

  I tilt my head back to look at him. "Leave."

  "Hope, I flew all the way here to see you."

  I roll my eyes. "So fly all the way back to whatever rock you crawled out from under."

  His lips curl slightly at the corner, sinking that dimple into his five o' clock shadow. Why couldn't he have gotten fat and ugly? "Well I can't fly out right now and I have nowhere to stay."

  "There's a great hotel around the corner. If you're lucky there might be an available hooker on the corner on your way over there."

  He takes an exasperated breath. "Hope...come on. It's gone eleven at night."

  I cling to my brash façade because he will not fucking dig the knife in any further. I fold my arms over my chest. "Exactly. Only one reason a guy comes calling at this time," I accuse. He stares at me for a few moments, his shoulders slightly hunched and his eyes pleading. "Jesus, fuck. Fine. You can stay on the sofa. I'm going to go and rig up a drip from this bottle of wine and face plant the wall repeatedly so, I'll be hung over in the morning. Leave before I wake up."

  Turning, I walk away from him before he can say anything else. I snag my bottle of wine from the coffee table and go to my room. The second the door closes I slide down it, pull my knees to my chest, and cry. I sit with my back against the door, drinking wine from the bottle as I cry over my ex-boyfriend who I'm so pathetically weak for that I let him stay in my apartment...after he fucked my sister. My life is such a fucking shitshow, it's a joke. I'm a joke. Pity party for one, please. Fucking hell.

  The worst thing about it all—even after two years, even after he hurt me so fucking badly—I'm still in love with him and I hate myself for it.

  17

  Hope

  I wake in the morning and stagger into my en-suite, wincing as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are all puffy and swollen with dark circles below them. Fuck this. I get in the shower and hope that the hot water will miraculously improve my face. It doesn't.

  I throw on a tank top and a pair of leggings, leaving my hair loose and wet down my back. When I step into my living room I find the sofa just as I left it—no sign of Silas. Good, I think even as a small fissure of disappointment takes root. Every girl wants a guy who's going to fight for her, even if he is a ripe cunt. I guess I want Silas to love me as much as I loved him. I want him to hurt as much as he hurt me, but it's not possible. He doesn't have enough of a conscience or he wouldn't have done it in the first place. I still remember the way he fucking stared right at me as shoved my sister’s face into the mattress and ploughed right through her. She'd always wanted him, always been so bitterly jealous of me. He only had to look in her direction and that spoilt bitch was game.

  In the two years since, I've heard how he was in a bad place, how he was depressed and angry, fucked up from his tour in Afghanistan. He told me over and over how he was trying to push me away but I always remained loyal, no matter what he said or did. So, he did something truly unforgiveable. I finally walked away from him, clutching the broken pieces of my heart in my hands. Yes, I want him to hurt. I want him to fucking bleed. I go into the kitchen and busy myself. It's done. He's gone. I need to forget it and push all thoughts of Silas from my mind.

  I'm flipping through the latest issue of Tatler and sipping on my coffee when I hear my front door open. What the fuck? I glance up, a frown on my face as Silas rounds the corner clutching a bag from the local bakery. My stomach clenches uncomfortably, the same way it always does when he's around.

  I pick up my half-drunk mug of coffee and take it to the sink, turning my back on him. I need a second.

  "I told you to leave," I say without looking at him.

  "I went and got breakfast. We need to talk.”

  Whirling around, I grip the edge of the kitchen counter behind me. His eyes trail over my body and I feel like he just set me on fire. The plain white t-shirt he’s wearing clings to his massive shoulders and cut waist. Tattoo's wind down both arms and up the sides of his neck. Dark and dangerous. That's what he
is, and it's what always made him so attractive to me. My mother always hated him and the more she hated him, the more I wanted him. Now, I see exactly what she saw: a military guy four years older than her teenage daughter who looked like trouble with a capital T.

  "No, we don't. There's nothing to talk about, Silas."

  He braces his palms against the breakfast bar, hunching his shoulders forward as his dark eyes lock with mine. "I've let you run for two years, baby." His lips tip up in a small smirk and my heart skips a beat. "I'm done letting you run."

  I roll my eyes and walk past him. His hand darts out, grabbing my wrist. "Let go of me," my voice shakes, emotions bubbling to the surface.

  His eyes search my face. His jaw clenches. "No."

  "Silas," I say quietly. I can't do this. I feel weak and exposed and the wound I promised myself I wouldn't open is gaping, bleeding and raw. I feel myself waver and try to swallow around the lump in my throat.

  "I love you, Hope," he whispers.

  The dam breaks and I squeeze my eyes shut trying to fight back the inevitable tears. He yanks me forward, enveloping me in his arms and crushing me to his solid chest. Tears track freely down my cheeks and I bury my face in his shirt in a bid to hide them. It's pointless. The scent of his cologne surrounds me, soothing and taunting me like a dream that morphs into a nightmare. His hand presses against the back of my head. His fingers thread through my damp hair as he holds me close. The very man who causes me the most pain is now the one consoling me. That irony is not lost on me. Neither is the fact that, after all he's done, he insists on torturing me, on playing with my emotions.

  I sniff. "I can't do this with you," I mumble, pushing away from his chest. He cups my face and swipes his thumbs below my eyes.

  "I hate to see you cry."

  I huff a small laugh and close my eyes, unable to look at him. "Silas, I have shed more tears for you than I could possible count."

  "I can fix it, Hope.” His lips press against my forehead. “You loved me once."

  Opening my eyes, I step back from his reach. "Once." I still do. Love. It's such a stupid uncontrollable emotion, and yet, don't we all seek it, crave it as though it were the ultimate and most unattainable high? I guess, in a way, it is. After all, there's nothing quite like it, is there? The euphoria, the safety, the sense of just belonging. Maybe that's why I wanted Silas so much, because I loved him and he loved me, and I thought I'd managed to find my place in this world. I wasn't the daughter of Jerry McGrath. I wasn't the girl in the big house or the loud ginger. I was just his. Yes, belonging can be powerful and if I'm honest, I haven't belonged anywhere since the day he betrayed me.

  Silas places his thick finger under my chin, forcing me to look at him. It's something he used to do to me all the time right before he'd kiss me. "Give me a chance. My flight goes back on Monday. Let me start over. You're not the same crazy ginger kid I once met, and I'm...I'm better now." He takes a deep breath. "Please, baby. You're my biggest regret, and...and I know I'll never love anyone the way I love you. No one will ever want you or love you the way I do. It's impossible." He's slowly battering away at my defences and I don't know how long I can stand in the face of this siege. "Two days," he pleads.

  His thumb swipes across my bottom lip and his eyes drop to my mouth, desire flashing through them.

  "Okay," I hear myself whisper. "Two days." I'm making a mistake. I know I'm making a mistake, but it's a little bit like watching a car crash. You know it's going to be horrible, but the morbid curiosity won’t let you look away.

  18

  Finn

  Any word on my case being seen? I text just before the school bell rings. The sound of kids screaming and laughing fills the air and my phone buzzes with a reply.

  Nope. Not yet.

  I sigh. Kids scatter across the schoolyard, but my eyes are trained on my baby girl as she skips down the school steps, over the yard, and up to the Audi parked at the curb. I watch Lydia hop into the car with Kiera. After they pull off, I crank my bike and speed down the road into the city, finally pulling over in front of the Thai restaurant I love. I pull my helmet off as I make my way to the entrance. A couple comes walking out, hand in hand and staring at each other like love-sick puppies. They are so into each other they nearly bump into me.

  "Sorry," the guy mumbles brushing the girl’s hair out of his face. I nod and walk through the doorway.

  The hostess grins and grabs a menu as she rounds the wooden stand. "I don't know why I give you this thing," she says as she leads me through the restaurant. "You probably have it memorized."

  I smile because it’s the polite thing to do. She shows me to a table by the window and I take a seat, placing my helmet on the floor beside my chair. The waitress comes by and pours my water before taking my order, even though she knows what I have every time. Sometimes I wonder what she thinks of me. Always coming in here alone. I lean back in my chair and pull my phone from my pocket, scrolling through the Facebook. There’s some video of a cat that keeps me distracted until the waitress sets my plate down. I set my phone down and glance out the window just as a redhead in tight jeans and a leather jacket goes strolling past. I do a double take and realise it's Hope. A smile touches her lips as she walks down the pavement...with a guy. Hope didn't come by or text yesterday, or the day before that. Nothing so far today. I kind of feel bad just telling her to leave the way I did. I shouldn't, but I do. You never know how someone will take something and, as much as she does my fucking head in…I narrow my eyes, watching her. Her red hair catches in the wind and I find my gaze straying down to her arse. Stop it.

  The steam rises from my plate, drifting in front of my face as I continue to stare at her. Watching them, trying to figure out what they are. I shouldn't care if she's seeing someone. I don't care...I don't. I watch the two of them disappear down the street before I take my fork and scoop up a pile of noodles.

  Good. Maybe she'll leave me the fuck alone now. Stop just popping in and harassing me and sleeping in my bed...Fucking stray cat.

  I stare at the date on my cell phone and my chest grows tight. Today is Lydia's birthday. She's 6 which means it's been five years since I left. Five years since I lost my shit. Since I went to jail. Since Kiera asked me to get help. She said I was a basket case and that she couldn’t trust me. That she was afraid of me. Kiera and I had grown up together, she was my first love, the person I trusted more than anyone else, loved more than anyone else, the mother of my child, and she was afraid of me.

  Shaking my head, I shove my phone in my pocket and stare up at the navy-blue door before I knock on it. The door almost immediately opens. Kyan looks like he's half asleep, his blond hair is sticking up in every direction.

  "You okay, mate?"

  "Yeah, I just uh..." He opens the door and steps to the side to let me in. "I just was out and thought I'd come by. See what you're up to."

  "Not much, just drinking, watching the fight."

  "Oh shit, I forgot about that."

  Kyan shakes his head as he shuffles back to his couch and flops down. I glance around his apartment and anxiety creeps around me like a vice. Disorder is every fucking where. His place is worse than Brandon's was before Poppy, if that's even possible. The couch has a hole in it. There's cereal scattered over the carpet. Clothes are strewn everywhere. A condom wrapper—an opened condom wrapper is on the coffee table right next to an open bag of crisps. "How the bloody hell are you gonna forget about this fight? These guys are brutal. Fucking cauliflower ear for days on that one." He points to the TV. There's two sweaty men, bloodied already and circling each other. Kyan leans over, and I notice a dirty plastic cooler next to the sofa. He lifts the lid and digs around in the ice before bringing out two beers and tossing one to me. I catch it and sit down in the chair against the far wall.

  "You keep your beer in a cooler next to the couch?" I ask.

  He shrugs. "Yeah, don't have to get up and walk to the fridge that way."

  "Wow..."

&nbs
p; "Hey, at least I get up to piss. My old man used to just take a piss in an empty bottle of ale." Dear god. People are filthy. "Fucking punch him in the face O'Brien. Fucking nail him!" Kyan shouts, leaning over his knees with the beer half-raised to his mouth as he stares at the screen. "You talked to Hope?"

  "No."

  "Hmm."I want to ask what the fuck that Hmm is about, but I don't. "She likes you."

  "Okay."

  "You hurt her feelings."

  "What the fuck?"

  He shrugs and takes a sip of his beer. "Kicking her out the other day. You should be ashamed of yourself, Finn." Kyan glances over at me and grins.

  "Since when have you become a gentleman courter?"

  "I may be a dog, but I at least have some manners about me."

  I toss my head back against the chair and drag my hands down my face. This is why I don't get involved with girls. Drama. I didn't fucking kick her out. I told her to leave and then she runs off and cries on Kyan's fucking shoulder. Dear fucking god. I can't deal with it. I tilt my beer back and down half of it and then I think about the guy I saw her with yesterday. "She's seeing somebody anyway."

  "What? Who?"

  "I don't know. I just saw her with someone yesterday."

  "And...I was with her the day before. Doesn't mean she's seeing some bloke."

  I stare at the screen watching O'Brein's fist pound into the other guy's cheek again and again.

  "It's okay to like her."

  "We're just friends."

  "Yeah," Kyan laughs. "That's exactly what it looked like the other night at the titty bar. You were watching her more than you were that SJ girl with the massive tits." I don't look away from the TV. Just keep watching and sipping on my beer. O'Brein beats the shit out of the other guy. I pop another beer. "Want to go down to the pub?" Kyan asks. "There's this blonde girl with legs for days I'm trying to cop onto." He grins. "You'd be a great wing man."