War Hope: War Series Book Two

by Nicole Lynne

  “Did he say why?”

  “Nope. Just freaked out. What is wrong with me?” I groan.

  Poppy comes and lies on the bed next to me the same way we used to when we were teenagers. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Hope. You’re the best person I know and if Finn can’t see that, then he’s a dick.” I swallow the lump in my throat and emotions swirl around me in this volatile haze, not because of Finn. It’s him and Silas and just everything. Poppy wraps her arms around me and rests her head on my shoulder.

  “Where’s the kid?” I ask.

  “In the front room. He’s in his pram asleep.” She lifts her head, those blue eyes locking with mine. “You sure you’re okay?”

  I nod and plaster a smile on my face. Fuck, look at me sulking about shitty boys to Poppy of all people. “I’m fine.”

  She nods and kisses my cheek. “I have to go take Patrick swimming, but I’ll stop in later. Unless you want to come?”

  I wrinkle my nose. “I am not getting in a pool full of babies dropping every bodily fluid known to man in a swimming pool.”

  She just rolls her eyes, smiling as she gets up and leaves. I hear the front door click shut behind her and once again I’m alone.

  I manage to wash and feed myself at some point, and I’m chewing on a piece of toast when there’s a knock on my front door again.

  “Poppy, I’m fine,” I say, opening the door. I pause when I see Finn standing there. He slowly lifts his gaze to mine. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets and his shoulders are hunched forwards.

  “What do you want?”

  He takes a deep breath. “Can I come in? We need to talk.”

  I consider slamming the door in his face for a moment, but I don’t because my stupid, hurt little feelings need consoling. He steps inside and I close the door behind him, leaning my back up against it. I refuse to move into the room or offer him a seat. He can say what he has to say and leave.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

  “Great, was that all?” I turn to pull the door open again, but he grabs my arm, his fingers lingering on my skin. He frowns as he stares at that one point of contact.

  “Hope, please. Just…” He lets out an aggravated breath and squeezes his eyes shut for a second before they flash open again. “I shouldn’t have done that to you?”

  I laugh humourlessly. “Are we referring to you making me come, or you kicking me out?”

  “Fuck! Both!” he snaps. I glare at him. His eyes slowly rise to meet mine. “I like you, but I can’t offer you anything. I’m not good at this. Can we forget this happened and be friends again?”

  And here I am again, stuck between a rock and a hard place because in that moment when his lips were on mine, his hands, his tongue…he made feel like someone special. And now I feel worthless. I want him though, I like him but would I rather keep him as a friend, or not have him at all? Honestly, I worry about him and even if he won’t admit it, I think that he needs me.

  I take a deep breath and force down the foreign feelings that seem to be gravitating towards him. “Okay.”

  He studies my face, his lips pressing together. “Okay?”

  I nod, forcing a smile onto my face even as tears threaten. “Just don’t be attacking my vag anytime soon.” I open the door and duck my head so he can’t see my face. I’m not in love with Finn. I’m not. But just once I’d like to be the girl that’s good enough to date, rather than the girl who’s good enough to fuck or be a friend. It seems Silas was right. He may truly be the only person who will ever love me that way.

  Finn passes me in the doorway and pauses, hesitating for a long moment. I see his hand reach towards me before he clenches his fist and retracts it. “Bye Hope,” he says, and then he leaves.

  I close the door. “Bye, Finn.” I agreed to stay friends with him, so why does it feel like I just lost him?

  25

  Finn

  Four days without a word from Hope and fuck, I miss her. This morning bit the bullet and texted her to invite her over for dinner. I don’t often cook, but here I am—cooking for Hope. Fucking women. Steam rises from the pot of boiling pasta. I lean over, watching the bubbles for a second before I take it of the eye, drain it over the sink, and dump the noodles into the sauce. On my way out of the kitchen, I grab a bottle of wine and take it to the dining room table, filling the two glasses before I place the bottle in the middle of the table. I inhale as an uneasy feeling creeps through my stomach. Why the hell am I nervous? This is Hope.

  The doorbell rings. The doorbell rings? Since when has Hope used a doorbell? I wipe my hands over my jeans and walk to the door, pulling it open to reveal Hope in a dress that clings to every fucking curve. My eyes drag over her body, my dick swelling with every inch of her skin my gaze passes over.

  “Finnley,” she says as she walks past me into my apartment.

  "It's good to see you, queenie."

  She cocks a brow and a little smirk plays over her pretty lips. “Careful. Stop being a miserable bastard and I might start to worry about you.”

  "Uh-huh."

  "What is that smell?" She tilts her head back, sticking her nose in the air.

  "Food. I cooked dinner."

  She whirls around, narrowing her eyes at me. “Cooked?”

  I grin. “Yes, cooked without burning.”

  She puts her hands on her hips. “You mean to tell me all those times I was bringing you food, you could cook?” I shrug and she huffs. “Well, that’s just extortion.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I don’t cook as well as Poppy.”

  “Touché,” she mutters.

  I go to the kitchen and dish up the spaghetti, taking it to the dining room table nestled in the corner of the front room. Hope sits down, glancing at the food in front of her before looking up at me with her eyebrows raised. "What?" I ask.

  "Nothing. I'm mildly impressed. It normally takes at least a dick pic to impress me."

  Unfolding my napkin, I glare at her. "You are so classy; you do realise this?"

  She smiles. "My mother would agree with you."

  I laugh. "So, class runs in your family?"

  She snorts and picks up the glass of wine in front of her. "I'm Irish, Finnley."

  "Right..." I twist the noodles around my fork. "Pikey," I mumbled under my breath before I shove the spaghetti inside my mouth.

  "Fuck you.” She smiles innocently and shoves some noodles into her mouth. "Oh my god," she says between chews, holding her hand in front of her face. "You can cook." She swallows. "Damn, if we weren't friends I'd bag and tag you faster than a rat up a drain pipe."

  I laugh and accidentally suck food down my throat, choking. I grab at my throat, trying to force the lob of noodles down. Hope's not even paying attention, just cramming her face with more spaghetti.

  "Don't die, Finnley. I need you," she says smirking. "Doris had to cancel bingo tomorrow night. Her glaucoma got bad."

  Shaking my head, I manage to swallow the food. "Nope. Not happening."

  She folds her arms over her chest. "You owe me, Finnley."

  "What for?"

  "You know what!" She grits her teeth. I swear to god, she looks like she's going to kill me.

  "I am not going to fucking bingo again. I said I was sorry and that's a site more than most people get."

  "Sorry doesn't cut it, sweet cheeks. I need actions not words. And actions include bingo." She sips on her wine, eyeing me over the rim of her glass.

  Huffing, I spoon more spaghetti into my mouth, hoping maybe I'll choke again. "No, bingo," I say around the noodles. "Ask that old man with the urinal attached to his chair.

  "You'll need a urinal attached to a chair if you don't fucking come," she says, smiling and twirling a strand of hair around her finger like a raging psycho.

  "Threats?" I shake my head. "You fucking redheads have issues."

  "Don't think I won't cut you, Finn." She sniffs. "I will take you for Thai food first thoug
h. Because I'm really fucking nice," she adds.

  Glaring at her, I lift my wine glass to my lips and take a drink. "I'll think about it."

  "I don't know why you fight me, Finnley. Just go with it. It's like drunk sex."

  "And you would know what that's like..."

  She lifts her middle finger. "And your hand might know what that's like," she says, grinning.

  After we finish dinner—and the bottle of wine—I clear the table. I don’t want her to leave yet. I enjoy her company. We stand by the living room in an awkward silence and I rub my hand over the back of my neck. "Want to watch a movie," I ask.

  "I'm not watching any porn, unless It's Colby Keller. I'll watch that man say, 'Give me that tight arsehole'," she says with a smirk.

  "What. The. Fuck..."

  "Don't tell me you've never watched Colby?" Her jaw drops. "Oh my god, Finn. Every guy needs to witness his holiness just so he can have fucking aspirations."

  I flop back on my couch, eyeing her as I turn on the TV. "You watch porn?"

  "Babe," she snorts, "please." She takes the remote from me and fiddles with her phone for a few seconds. "I'll just skip to the good bit."

  Okay, this is not the shit you do with a friend whose pussy you’ve been knuckle deep in. Shit. This is going to end with me and a massive hard on. "Uh, I'm not watching porn with you. It's kind of a personal—" An angry grunt rips through the surround sound, the unmistakable smack of skin slapping skin rings out.

  "Get him Colby. Get him," Hope heckles, snatching the remote from me just as I go to grab it.

  What. The...another deep groan and I can't help myself. I glance at the TV and immediately wish I hadn't. It's a close up of a massive dick slamming into a gapping arsehole, lube dripping all over a pair of loose balls swaying from the sheer force of the intrusion. Retching, I slam my hand over my eyes. "What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Is that..." I shake my head. "Fucking two men. Arse sex? You put on gay arse sex for me to get inspiration from? That—" I point at the screen but won't look, "is what I am supposed to aspire to?"

  Hope laughs so hard tears stream down her face. The slapping and grunting grow louder and then...."Give me that tight asshole," one of the men growl.

  I point angrily at the TV. "Off. Turn. It. Off or no bingo." I grit my teeth and glare at her. "Ever."

  "Look, ignore the fact that it's a guy..."

  "I fucking can't! His balls are right there."

  "They're shaved," she says as though shaved balls are half-way to a pussy. Fuck me.

  "Turn it off." I go to grab the remote from her and she yanks it away.

  "Not until you watch the face Colby makes when he comes."

  "I am not watching him come. For fuck's sake. What is wrong with you?"

  "And the sound. Jesus, I'm wet just thinking about it." She bites her lip and I'm not sure whether it's hot that she's turned on, or really, really disturbing. A long drawn out moan sounds through the speaker and the unmistakeable grunt of a guy coming. "Jesus, look at it, it's like an ocean of come. So hot," Hope breathes.

  "An ocean of come. Did you just say an ocean..." I take a breath and slap my hand over my forehead, dragging it down my face, "…of come?"

  "He hit the back of his fucking head, Finn! Look!" The noise cuts off for a second. Thank god, she turned it off. I glance at her and she's looking at her screen, and then it starts all over again. That long drawn out groan sounds out and a sick grin forms on Hope’s face. "Look, Finnley," she growls like a horny beast.

  "Hope," I try to grab the remote, but she snatches her hand away.

  "Not until you look." She grabs my face and turns it toward the screen, and before I know it, she's climbing onto the arm of the sofa and throwing her legs around my waist as she climbs on my back, mounting me like a fucking horse.

  "Look. At. It." She digs her fingers into my face and pries my eyes open, forcing me to look at the screen

  "I swear to god..." I swat at my back, trying to get her off.

  "Respect the spunk fountain."

  Oh dear god. She can never have wine again. Never. Never. Never. Never... I finally manage to get her hands off my face and she leaps from my back, running around the room. The groaning and ball smacking is still going full force. "Give me the remote."

  "Nope." She rounds the corner of my coffee table and I jump at her, grabbing her ankles and yanking her to the floor with a thud.

  "Oh, my god," she whines. "I think..." She moans and sits up, clutching her arm. "I think I broke my wrist. Fuck..."

  "What!" Oh shit. Way to go fucking Finn...I hop to my feet and crouch beside her as a wild smile flickers over her face.

  "You're such a pussy." She stumbles to her feet and runs away. I storm over to the TV and yank the plug out of the wall, the sex noises ceasing. "Pussy!" she calls from the hallway.

  She comes back into the living room, the moaning still playing on her phone. "You have issues," I say.

  She rolls her eyes and taps on her phone, cutting that terrible porno off. "No shit. Anyway, what film are we watching?"

  "Not that shit,” I say.

  She scrolls through her phone for a second before tossing it to me. "You pick something then. If anal's out, I'm at a loss."

  "Dear god..." I look through the movies on Netflix and stop on The Ring. The credits start rolling and she shakes her head.

  "No." She scoots next to me. "Don't do this to me."

  "What, you don't like scary movies?"

  "Not really, but this one…." she closes her eyes and crosses her chest, "it's possessed by the devil."

  "God, you are so dramatic."

  Look, it scares the shit out of me."

  "Well," I lean back in the couch and turn the volume up with a grin, "just make sure you don't shit on my couch."

  "Cunt," she mumbles under her breath.

  "You're abusive as fuck..." She slaps my arm. "See!" I say.

  "I'm ginger. Don't act like you didn't know what you were getting. Besides..." She sniffs. "I'm a fucking delight."

  Ten minutes into the film and Hope has slowly crept closer to me. I try not to laugh as her wide eyes fix on the screen, her body growing more tense with each passing second. When the part where the video plays and the girl answers the phone comes on, I carefully take my phone out of my pocket on the other side of Hope and dial her number, trying not to laugh. Her phone rings and she screams. I fucking lose it, laughing so hard I'm afraid I may piss myself, and she, of course, punches me in the ribs.

  "I fucking hate you!"

  I swipe tears from my eyes. "Payback's a bitch."

  She’s basically crawling into my lap now and when the part with the kid crawling out of the TV comes on, Hope buries her face into my chest. "I hate this fucking film," she grumbles. "Why? Why would you have a film about an angry kid that got thrown down a well? It's messed up. Fucking wrong. And then they make a second because the first wasn't fun enough! Fuck me," she rants against my chest.

  I laugh and she punches me again. "I'll protect you from the freaky child," I tease.

  "You fucking better. I'm not going home tonight."

  I tense slightly. "You'll be fine."

  "I am not sleeping on my own. This is your fault. Fuck, I swear I can feel it watching me." She shudders.

  "So basically,” I sigh, “I've scarred you with a freaky fucking child and you scarred me with a gapping arsehole. Great."

  "Don't even think this is even. What you've done to me is way worse."

  The credits roll and she still has her face buried in my shirt. “Cartoons,” she says. “You have to put on a cartoon now to wash that evil out of my mind.”

  I toss my head back against the cushions and groan. “Hanging out with you is seriously like babysitting a nine-year-old.” She doesn’t move, just keep clutching to my shirt. “Fine,” I say and turn on Spongebob Squarepants.

  The theme music stars and she slowly peeks up from my chest before she sits up. “Thank you.”

&nb
sp; I make it halfway thorugh the first ridiculous episode before I doze off. When I wake up, Hope’s head is in my lap and she’s asleep. I stretch for a second before carefully sliding out from underneath her and placing a pillow underneath her head. I toss the blanket from the back of the sofa over her and go to bed.

  Not two minutes after I’ve gotten in bed, the hinges to the door creak. I open my eyes and see Hope’s shadow as she tiptoes across the room to the end of the bed. She gently climbs onto the bed, slipping underneath the duvet.

  "Really?"

  "You fucking left me. Why would you do that?"

  "You are such a child," I whisper.

  "Look, the TV is out there. I can't sleep in the room with the TV."

  "Dear god, just keep your clothes on this time, would you?"

  "You should be so lucky," she says, turning away from me. The last thing I need is Hope in my bed, but I can't deny that a huge part of me loves having her there...even if we are just friends.

  When I wake up in the morning, I'm spooning Hope. My arm is wrapped tightly around her waist, my hand just brushing her boob. And my dick is pressed against her arse in a very unfriend like way. Fuck.

  26

  Hope

  I pull into the car park and cut the engine, smiling as I glance over at Finn. "We're here."

  He ducks down and glances out the window. "Oh, fuck, Hope, really? I told you, no bingo. That’s what you get for showing me a guy’s arsehole being ploughed.”

  “Fuck off. You made me watch that fucking film. We’re even.”

  He huffs and folds his arms over his chest. “I thought we were getting Thai food anyway.”

  "And, we will, right after I make Opal my bitch."

  "Dear god...she's pushing ninety, Hope."

  "And?" I open the door and climb out.

  "And..." Finn clamours out of the car and points at the billboard. "It's fucking bingo."

  I glare at him. "You're so uncultured."

  "Yes, because playing bingo whilst necking prune juice is so cultured?"