by Chloe Walsh
Shaking his head, he backed away from me like I had just scalded him.
And I had.
With the truth.
"I'm pregnant!" I screamed, tears flowing freely down my face. "And if, by some misfortunate chance, this baby is yours, I want you to know that you will never get a chance to do to him what you've done to yourself…" my voice broke off and I inhaled a choked breath before adding, "what you've done to me."
Sinking down on the edge of the bed, he looked up at me like he was just seeing me. "Hope –"
"I'm leaving, Jordan," I yelled hoarsely, completely broken from all of it. My entire body shook from head to toe as I hurried out of the room and down the staircase.
"Hope!" Jordan called out as he chased me down the stairs. "Hope – please wait!" His hand came around my wrist once more and I blew up.
"Get your fucking hands off me!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, yanking free from his hold. Throwing open the front door, I swung around and hissed, "And If you even think about following through on your threats, I'll report you for what you did to me."
Rain was pelting down heavily outside, but I knew I would rather drown in the downpour than spend one more second inside that house
I was done.
Completely fucking done.
With my heart hammering in my chest, I inhaled a deep breath and ran into the downpour.
****
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Jordan
"Or what? You'll hit me? Rape me? It wouldn’t be anything you haven't done to me already!"
"I told you no."
"I begged you to stop!"
"You forced yourself inside my body without my permission that night and you took away my choice!"
"I'm pregnant. And if, by some misfortunate chance, this baby is yours, I want you to know that you will never get a chance to do to him what you've done to yourself…what you've done to me."
Her words continued to haunt me, going around and around in my hazed mind like a broken record.
I didn’t remember.
I couldn’t fucking remember.
But I heard the sincerity in her voice – the truth in her words.
I did it.
All of it.
I had become the one person I hated more than anyone else on this planet.
I had become a monster.
Staggering into the kitchen, I tried to catch my breath, tried to breathe through the pain, through the agonizing realization of what I had done.
What I had become.
I wasn’t me anymore.
I was a fucking creature.
The pain in her eyes?
I put that there.
My fucking hands around her neck?
I did that.
Me.
Shaking violently, I grabbed the closest drawer and pulled it open with such force that it came away from its hinges, crashing to the floor with a thud. Knives, forks and spoons scattered everywhere.
Dropping to my knees, I reached for the sharpest knife I could see.
With tears dripping down my cheeks, I took the knife in my hand, clenched my eyes shut, and whispered, "God forgive me," before slashing downwards in one quick movement.
The blood began to drain from my body, and I was grateful.
Soon, it would all be over.
All the pain.
All the suffering.
Switching the knife to my other hand, I slashed downwards on my right wrist, then slumped forward, waiting for death to take me, praying to the Lord to forgive my sins.
Just before I lost consciousness, I heard a familiar voice close by.
"Jordan," she said. "Jordan, wake up, baby. Open your eyes."
I knew that voice.
I loved that voice.
When I finally managed to get my eyes to open, I found myself staring into the face of my mother.
"Jordan," she was crying as she cupped my face in her small hands. "Baby, no."
"I love you, Mom," I whispered, and then there was only darkness.
****
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Hope
When I pulled up outside South Peak Road, it was with a heavy heart and a tear streaked face. Of course, I had driven straight to Hunter's apartment complex down on Tenth. But after countless times knocking on the door and calling his switched off cell, I had given up and driven here.
What concerned me now, though, wasn’t the pain in my heart, the fear of impending motherhood, or the reddish blotch stains on my cheeks.
It was the sight of my father's shiny, black Range Rover parked mere feet from mine.
He was back.
Alarm bells began to ring instantly; the image of my grandfather's face rising to the fore point of my mind.
Why was my father here?
Had something happened?
Did he know?
No, Noah wouldn’t tell him…would he?
My parents knew first-hand all about David Henderson and how toxic and dangerous he was, but that didn’t mean I wanted them to know about that night. The natural urge to protect my family from danger and unnecessary pain was overwhelming.
Alongside Dad's Range Rover were two more – because, yeah, we were a SUV kind of family – different only in color.
Silver for Cam.
Blue for Colt.
Oh fuck.
Unbuckling my seat belt, I braced myself for the torrential downpour, climbed out of my truck, and hurried up to the front door, not stopping until I was inside.
Shaking myself off in the hallway, I listened to the hum of familiar voices, and headed straight for the kitchen.
It was in said kitchen, that I found every adult member of my family sitting around Noah and Teagan's huge table.
Cameron, Colton, Logan, and Noah were sitting alongside each other. Mom, Dad, and Derek sat opposite them.
Sitting at the head of the table, and I took a mental note of seeing her at the helm, was my tiny best friend.
Teagan looked every bit the ruthless dictator as she leaned back in her chair and drummed her fingers against her huge belly.
Whatever they had been talking about came to an abrupt stop when I walked into the room and asked, "Family meeting?"
Eight pairs of eyes landed on me.
And then all hell broke loose.
****
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Hope
Growing up in home filled with multiple dominant and loudly vocal men, I was accustomed to the hustle and noise that occurred whenever the family were all together in one place.
This, however, was so much different.
My brothers and Derek were on their feet.
My mother was wailing.
Teagan was shouting – I guess she felt the need to join into the chaos.
As for my father?
He was in front of me with his hands cupping my face, looking at it like his entire world had just been crushed to pieces.
In the madness, I could see Noah still sitting at the table, rubbing his temples, and I made a mental note to thank him later for keeping his mouth shut.
"What happened to you?" Dad choked out, his blue eyes locked on my cheek. "What the hell happened to you, angel?"
"I'm okay," I replied, not feeling the emotions required to fall apart right now.
I'd done enough of that in the past few months.
I'd done enough of that today.
I was all cried out.
"Okay?" Dad snarled, tone one of pure outrage. "How the fuck are you okay?"
To be honest, I had grown so used to looking at the jagged, hook-shaped scar on my face these past few months that it hadn't even occurred to me that my family would be horrified.
Obviously, I had known in the back of my mind they would freak the hell out, but I had been so consumed in my own pain and grief that I just…forced it from my head.
Besides, I didn’t look as bad now.
Sure, the left side of my face was still dis
gusting and gross, but the bruises on the rest of my body had healed up and disappeared completely.
I was no longer sporting that ugly black eye, and the pain was almost nonexistent.
With the exception of a little tenderness and some stinging, I was coping.
I was surviving.
"Seriously, Dad," I countered, ducking under his arms to get some much-needed space and gather my racing thoughts. "I'm fine."
The moment I broke free from my father's grasp, my mother was right there waiting to take over.
"Hope," Mom sobbed, hand covering her mouth, as she looked at me with horror bouncing in her gray eyes.
I couldn’t deal with this right now.
"I'm fine," I bit out, skirting around my mother's outstretched arms.
The time for falling apart had been weeks ago.
And I had done enough of that.
But I was pieced back together now, and not about to crumble.
"Some mother fucker is going to get his ass handed to him," Teagan hissed, joining my father in pacing the kitchen.
In all the chaos, I had to force back a smile at the sight of her antics.
She was going to town on the whole keeping my secret promise, and doing a mighty fine acting job.
Avoiding eye contact with my brothers, I slumped into one of the vacated chairs, and looked across at Noah.
He stared right back at me, his dark brown eyes locked on mine, before giving me a tight nod.
In that small move, I understood what he was trying to get across to me.
Keep your mouth shut.
No fricking problem.
I had no intention of revealing anything to my family.
The less they knew, the safer they were.
At least that's what I consoled myself with.
"How long have you guys been home?" I tried to change the subject by asking.
"Three days," Dad shot back. "Three long ass days with no call, text or reply from you."
"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I haven't been checking my cell."
I've been too consumed in trying to come to terms with the fact that I'm pregnant and have no idea who the father is…
"If you don’t start talking, Hope Carter, I'm going to assume the worst," Dad hissed, pacing the kitchen like a jacked-up lunatic. "Which isn’t too fucking hard considering that cut on your face looks remarkably similar to the one on your mother's face."
A sob tore from my mother's throat, causing my Dad to lose his shit.
"God-fucking-dammit!" he roared, completely livid. "He did this to you, didn’t he?"
"No," I replied, keeping my eyes trained on Noah. My heart rate rose with every growl that ripped from my father's chest. "He didn’t do anything to me, Dad."
Not personally, at least.
"Then who did it?" Dad demanded. "Who the fuck put their hands on my daughter?"
"It doesn’t matter anymore," I squeezed out. "We're handling it."
"It doesn’t matter?" Cameron demanded, deciding to throw his two cents into the mix. "The hell it doesn’t!"
"Stay out of this, Cam –"
"And who's we?" Colton piped up.
"What the hell is going on, Hope?" Logan added.
"Tell us," Derek chimed in.
"I can't handle this," I shot back, flushed. "There are too damn many of you talking."
The only quiet person, aside from Noah, was my mother, who had come to sit beside me. Placing her hand on mine, she squeezed in reassurance.
"Hold up," Teagan screamed at a higher decimal than I'd ever heard in my whole, entire life. "Everybody just calm the fuck down and stop screaming so I can think this through!"
"Babe, you're the only one screaming here," Noah replied dryly.
"Well it's a screaming kind of situation," Teagan countered, still screaming, cheeks flushed. She looked to Noah for support. "Am I right?"
"You're absolutely right, Thorn," he agreed coaxingly, patting his knee.
Shoulders sagging, she waddled over to her husband and slumped down on his lap. "I'm too pregnant for this shit."
"David did this," Cam sneered, talking over me. "Doesn’t take a fucking genius to put that together."
"Cameron," Mom said with a weary sigh. "Let your sister speak."
"Why?" Cam demanded. "So she can tiptoe around the truth and lie through her goddamn teeth?" He shook his head. "Hell fucking no, Mom. This shit stops. Now."
"It wasn’t David!" I snarled, glaring at the oldest of my brothers, and it wasn’t a total lie. David hadn't taken the blade to my face. "So just back off."
"But he was involved," Cam shot back without a hint of hesitation, blue eyes locked on mine. "Don’t you dare try and deny it."
Exhaling a weary sigh, I just shook my head and said, "It's complicated, guys."
"Goddammit, Hope!" was Colton's unsympathetic response. "We can't help you if you don’t tell us what happened."
"She's protecting someone," Logan stated calmly, grey eyes locked on my face. "That's why she's not talking."
"Is that true?"
"Hope, who did this to you?"
"Are you covering for someone?
"Goddammit, tell us now!"
"Leave her alone," Mom snapped, raising her voice for the first time. "I'm warning you all. Back off, now."
Silence fell around us.
Finally, Colton said, "We're your family, Hope." His tone of voice was pleading. "It's our job to protect you."
"I don’t need to you protect me, Colt." Flustered, I pressed my hand to my forehead and struggled to contain my temper. "I just need–"
"Who hurt Hope?" a small voice asked, distracting us all.
I cringed when my little brothers walked into the kitchen.
Two innocent children caught up in a world of lies and corruption.
"Boys, go back down to the gym and work on those muscles," Noah said coaxingly, giving the boys his attention. "We've got some grown up talking to do up here."
"Someone hurt my sister," Cash shot back, defiance blazing in his blue eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Cash –" Dad began to say, but Cash interrupted him by saying, "I'll kill them, Hope." Jutting out his small chin, Cash looked straight at me and said, "I swear I'll do it."
My heart sank.
Fuck sinking, it shattered into pieces at the sound of those three words coming out of my nine-year-old baby brother's mouth.
Looking at these small, innocent children, and knowing the threat was lurking all around us, sickened me
"No one hurt me," I lied, forcing myself to smile and reassure his little heart. "I fell off my bicycle and cut my face on the gravel.
"Weren't you wearing a helmet?" Casey, who had been silent until now, asked.
"No, Case," I choked out. "I wasn’t."
Ignoring everyone else in the room, he walked over to where I was sitting and stared hard at my face. "You gotta wear a helmet, Hope. It's the rules."
I had to smile at his innocent response.
Taking my words literally was so typical Casey.
You see, my little brother had autism. It wasn’t something we talked much about because it didn’t matter to us.
To us, he was Casey Carter.
Autism was only one part of his personality. Never once had our parents treated Casey differently to the rest of us. We all had our quirks, traits and habits that crafted us into the people we were. And I think he was my favorite of them all.
His truth was beautiful and I wished I could see the world through his eyes sometimes because he honestly seemed to be the wisest one of all Mom and Dad's kids.
It was harder for him sometimes, but he had this amazing built-in coping mechanism, something any person would admire.
When he was first diagnosed, I was frightened for him. For his future. What would happen to him when he grew up? Would he cope with adulthood? Would he ever get married and have children? What would his future look like?
That fear was a crippling one. But
then I got my ass into the library and read up. I trolled the internet and every forum I could find on ASD.
I'd never had any experience with autism before my brother, but I was determined to get informed. I was hell bent on figuring out every possible way and avenue in which I could help him, support him, and guide him.
Looking at him now, knowing he believed every word I was speaking, broke my heart a little.
"I know," I replied. "I promise I will wear a helmet the next time."
"Don’t be sad, Hope," Casey whispered. "You're still pretty." Reaching up, he pressed his small hand to my cheek. "Now you match Mom."
"Oh, Case," I half laughed, half sobbed, covering his small hand with mine.
He nodded solemnly. "Your face still makes me feel good." He pressed his tiny hand to his chest. "In here."
"God, I fricking love you so much, Case."
"I know," was his simple response before throwing another curveball into the mix by asking, "Where's Lucky?"
"Lucky?" I squeezed out, feeling my face flame.
"Yeah," Casey confirmed with a solemn nod. "I need to talk to him."
You're not the only one…
"About what, Case?"
"He promised to take me to the comic con yesterday. He told me months ago that he would." Casey frowned and bit down on his bottom lip. "I was gonna be Iron Man and Lucky said he'd be Thor. And I waited and waited for him, but he didn’t come get me, Hope."
"Boys," Dad growled, interrupting us as he rubbed his jaw in barely restrained frustration. "Please go back downstairs. Mom and I really need to talk to your sister."
"Come on, boys," Teagan announced, tone bright and full of forced excitement. "Let's go see if we can find some of Uncle Noah's old fight tapes."
