by Chloe Walsh
"They're not fucking real," Colt argued defensively when Mom told him to get away from the coffee table in the living room. "Christ, everyone's taking this way too seriously. It's not life I threw my own real-life children away."
"You worry me sometimes, Colton," Mom muttered as she shooed him away. "They were your children."
"I don’t have any fucking children," Colt laughed.
"Colton," Mom scolded. "Language."
"Mom, come on," Colt chuckled, unable to keep a straight face. "It's a game." He snickered before adding, "I couldn’t afford four-fucking carloads of children, so I kept my favorites."
"You're a bad influence on your younger brothers," Mom replied, not giving an inch. She waved a hand in the direction of where my little brothers were sitting and shook her head in dismay. "Cash and Casey just watched you do that," she continued to say as she folded away the board and put all the pieces back in the box. "What do you think you're teaching them?"
Colton looked at our mother like she had three heads. "Am I in the goddamn twilight zone here?" he asked, scratching his dark hair in confusion. He looked over to where Logan and I were sitting and gaped. "Hope, help me out here, will you?"
I couldn’t.
I was too busy laughing my ass off at the absolute ridiculousness that was my family.
"Yeah, thanks a fucking bunch, sis," Colt grumbled before stalking out of the room with Mom hot on his heels, lecturing about how all god's creatures should be honored and respected.
"They're plastic fucking stick men you shove into a plastic fucking car, Mom," I heard Colt say from the hallway. "I don’t know what kind of respect you expect me to give them."
The outrage in my brother's voice caused me to double over from laughing.
"Some things never change," Logan said in an amused tone.
"Tell me about it." Curling my feet up on the couch, I rested my head on his shoulder and asked, "How are you feeling, Low?" Aside from Cash and Casey, who were our parent's surprise babies, Logan was the baby of the family. The youngest of the triplets, he was a lot different to Cam and Colt, and in some ways, had always been my favorite. I knew that was a horrible thing to do, to have a favorite sibling, but there was something so incredibly fragile about Logan that seemed to give him that little bit more of my heart.
"I'm okay, Hope," he assured me. His tone was bright and gentle and hid the truth. He was in pain. He was always suffering. Logan had MS. He was only twenty-four and was one of the unfortunate people in the world who had suffered this disease since childhood on top of Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis and Raynaud's Disease. Stress made his MS worse and cold weather literally crippled him. But Logan was also one of these incredibly rare people that didn’t accept an ounce of pity even when he was in physical agony and confined to a wheelchair. He kept his pain on the inside, never giving us a glimpse into how he was truly feeling. He was so strong, so heroically selfless, and whenever I was around him, I always felt in absolute awe. I knew I could never accept an illness like MS the way Logan did. My brother inspired me. Every day.
"So, where's Jordan?" Logan asked, drawing me from my thoughts.
"Couldn’t make it tonight," I muttered. Pulling my cell out of my jeans pocket, I glanced at the screen. No missed calls or messages. "Again."
"It's probably hard as hell for him, Hope," Logan said knowingly. "Coming back here?" He inclined his head towards the doorway. "And with Derek." Sighing heavily, my brother added, "I wouldn’t take in personally."
I was trying not to, I really was, but it wasn’t easy. Not when it felt so fricking personal. "Being married is so much harder than I expected it to be, Low," I admitted before confiding in Logan everything I never would in my other brothers. Cash and Casey were only eight and while I loved Cam and Colt, they were wildly outspoken. If Cam knew how I was feeling, there was a very likely chance of him kicking Jordan's ass. Cam had a horrible temper that he barely managed to restrain most days. And Colton? Hell, Colt was as unpredictable as the weather. He would either crack jokes or lose his shit. It was hard to tell with him. He was a strange guy.
"I can't figure him out," I continued to confess. "He's like a closed book and I'm only catching a glance at the back cover. It's like I know the summary of his life, and I've read the blurb, but I'm locked out of the important details – the inner chapters are hidden from me. I want him to be happy so freaking badly, Low. I'm trying so hard."
The abuse Jordan had endured was common knowledge within our family now.
Behind my husband's back, I had sat my parents and Logan down and explained everything to them. I had no doubt Cameron and Colton had been filled in. I was sure of it. Their knowing was the only fallible reason I could think of as to why they had left me be and not showed up at Jordan's house.
My mother had always been Jordan's greatest champion and was on cloud nine when I announced our reconciliation. My father and brothers, not so much. I felt absolutely horrible for going behind Jordan's back, and had sworn them all to secrecy, but telling them was the only way I could make my father and brothers understand why I had chosen to give our marriage a second chance. They had to know that Jordan's reasons for leaving me were valid and that he hadn’t intentionally broken my heart. If I hadn't told them, they would never have accepted us as a couple.
"Your husband was abused," Logan stated in a calm and steady tone. "He had a horrific childhood and even worse start at adulthood. It's perfectly normal for you to want to make him happy." He paused for a long moment before adding, "But it shouldn’t be at the expense of your happiness, Hope."
"Who says I'm not happy?" I countered, forcing a weak smile.
"I'm your brother, Hope Carter," Logan countered, leveling me with a steady, gray-eyed stare. "I've known you almost your whole life. I can tell when you're not happy."
"I'm not unhappy," I offered lamely. "I'm just…adjusting."
"To?"
"To where I fit in his world now."
"What do you mean?"
"I feel like I'm back seated when it comes to his job," I choked out. "I come second to his work and it drives me insane. I want him. Our marriage needs to be saved, but the minute someone else calls, he's gone saving the world while ours crumbles around us." I shook my head and bit down on my lip, repressing the urge to cry. "He's healing and he drifting away from me." My voice was low and pained. "I'm not what he needs anymore. He's his own person now and I feel like I don’t fit into this life he's created for himself."
"Adjusting to what?" Cash piped up from where he was sprawled out in front of the fireplace building Legos with Casey.
"Are you earwigging on my conversations, Cash Carter?" I asked, feigning outrage when I was secretly relieved to be saved from this conversation.
"Earwigging?" Cash looked at me in semi-horror. "What's that?"
"It means eavesdropping," Casey explained in his quiet tone of voice, never taking his eyes off the Angry Birds Lego castle he was building. "And yes. He was. He listens in on everyone's conversations."
"Shut up, Case," Cash growled as he folded his arms across his chest and pouted adorably. "You do it, too."
"Yeah, but I'm better at it than you," Casey tossed out, not batting an eyelid at Cash's anger. "I don’t get caught."
"Okaaay," I chuckled, patting Logan on the knee before standing up. "You can deal with these two. I'm going to get a cup of coffee."
When I walked into the kitchen and locked eyes on the Teagan and Dad still battling it out at the kitchen table, I couldn’t hide the smile that spread across my face.
Teagan was trying to talk her way out of paying for landing on one of my father's hotels and Dad, being a competitive jerk, had his hand held out, waiting for her money.
"You're ruthless," Teagan snarled as she begrudgingly coughed up the dough.
"Name of the game, Blondie," Dad shot back with a huge grin before dramatically fanning his face with her fake money. "Ah. Now what should I buy with this?"
Noah, wh
o was sitting in the middle of them, looked on with a pained expression. "Don’t torment her," he groaned. "Or we'll be here all fucking night."
"Oh, you can bet your ass we'll be here all night, Noah fucking Messina," Teagan growled, shaking the dice almost violently. "I'm not leaving this table until I bankrupt your brother."
"You can try," Dad scoffed, taunting her with his huge stack of pretend money. "You won't be the first."
"Should I call security?" I half-joked as I walked over to the coffee machine and set to work with making myself a cup of coffee.
"Nah," Derek, who was sitting at the table watching the game unfold, chucked. "Kyle would never hit a girl."
"True," I shot back. "But I wasn’t talking about him."
"Hey – I'm not a violent person," Teagan called out.
Noah scoffed loudly, obviously calling bullshit on that statement, but one glare from his pregnant wife had him quickly sobering his features.
"Is there any more of that on offer?" Hunter's familiar voice came from behind me and I swung around to face him. The moment my eyes landed on his face, that horrible, perplexing torpedo of stomach fluttering that seemed to overtake me every time I laid eyes on Hunter occurred like clockwork. Realizing he was still looking at me with an expecting expression, I managed a, "Huh?"
"Coffee," Hunter explained with a smile. "Never mind," he added before stepping around me and pouring himself a mug.
"Sorry," I mumbled when I realized he had been asking for cup of coffee. "I'm not with it tonight."
"Nah, I'd say you're with it just fine, HC" he shot back with an easy smile.
I didn’t know what to say to that so I just smiled in response. Everything felt murky now when it came to Hunter. Our conversations weren’t as simple and carefree as they had been before and I found myself questioning and second guessing every word he said to me, hunting for hidden meanings I wasn’t sure were even there.
"I'm stepping outside for a bit." Hunter tipped his finger against the cigarette balancing behind his ear and said, "Keep me company."
Hunter turned then and walked out of the kitchen, leaving me pondering if it was a question or a command. It didn’t seem to matter either way though, because against my better judgement, I followed him outside to our front yard.
Wrapping my chunky knit cardigan around my middle, I leaned against the side of my truck and watched Hunter watch me as he lit a cigarette and pressed it to his lips. "So," he said in a tight voice before exhaling a big cloud of smoke. "What's new, HC?"
"Nothing much," I replied, wrapping my arms around myself to fight off the March coldness. "You know, you really need to kick this habit." I nodded meaningfully to the hand he was holding his cigarette in and sighed. "It's disgusting and it's going to kill you."
My warning didn’t evoke the reaction I had wanted from Hunter, and when he threw his head back and blatantly laughed at me, irritation roared to life inside of me. "I'm being serious."
"I know you are," he agreed, still grinning like a lunatic, baring a set of pearly white teeth he didn’t deserve to have. Not with the pack or so of cigarettes he smoked daily. "It's adorable."
"Stop it," I warned him. "It's not a joke." I was trying to be mad at him, but it was impossible when he continued to smile at me like that. Pushing off the truck, I walked straight over to him and playfully shoved his chest. I was smiling now. Full blown grinning back at him and it made me feel at a loss. "You're an asshole."
"True," he replied with a chuckle before taking another deep drag from his cigarette. "Speaking of assholes, how's your WIP coming along?"
"Awful," I admitted glumly, not surprised in the least that he had asked about my book. Writing was one of a long list of topics Hunter and I had discussed freely before everything had turned to shit between us. He had even helped me plot the outline for this one. Problem was, I'd lost all motivation for the story and the asshole hero we had conjured up together wasn’t talking to me anymore. "I'm seriously considering pulling the damn book from the series, skipping over Harley's story and sending out an apology newsletter to my readers."
"Bad bout of middle-of-the-book jitters?" he asked with a sympathetic glint in his eyes.
Nodding, I exhaled a huge sigh. "I'm supposed to have it ready in time for the Aspen signing in June. I have the fricking thing listed in my preorders." I shuddered at the thought of showing up to the book signing without the book everyone wanted from me. "God, I suck."
"I can help you," he offered then. "Help you brainstorm. You know ideas always come to you after spending some time throwing around ideas."
Excitement followed by a huge surge of anxiety flittered through me then. "I don’t think that's a good idea, Hunter," I forced myself to look at him and say.
He met my gaze head on with a frown. "Why?"
"Because I'm married."
Again, he frowned. "You being married isn’t a new thing here, Hope."
"No," I agreed gently. "But me reconciling with my husband is new."
"I'm not a masochist, sweetheart. You made your choice. I might not like it, but I respect you enough to accept it." He paused and ran a hand through his messy blonde hair before adding, "But throw me a goddamn bone here, Hope. We spent every day for three months together and now…" his voice trailed off and I watched as a vein ticked in his neck. "Fuck it," he muttered with a humorless laugh. "You do what you gotta do."
"No," I argued. "Don’t close off like that. Say what you want to say."
"Fine," he countered. "I'm saying I miss my friend."
"I miss my friend, too," I whispered, feeling a gut-wrenching pang of loneliness inside of me. A lonely, aching hole that he had once filled without even trying.
He stared hard at me for the longest moment before taking another drag from his cigarette. When he was done, he tossed the butt on the ground and exhaled a smoky breath. "Do you know what you are to me?"
"Hunter." I shook my head and held a shaky hand up to warn him off. "Please, don't…"
"You're not his wife or one of the famous Carter siblings from University Hill," he replied, not listening. "You're not a bestselling author or the only daughter of hotel tycoon Kyle fucking Carter. You're not Noah ‘The Machine’ Messina's niece, or a conquest." His blue eyes burned into mine when he said, "You're Hope. Just Hope. And you're my best friend."
His words curled around my heart like a warm blanket on the coldest night in winter. I tried to muster up the courage to tell him that at one stage in time, he had been my best friend too, and I missed him desperately, but I couldn't.
So, I just stood there, in my parent's driveway, staring up at the man who I missed more than I dared acknowledge.
"Tell you what, you come find me when you're done lying to yourself " Hunter said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled between us. "I'm only one call away." With that, he walked back into the house, leaving me standing in the darkness, staring after him.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
HOPE
When I let myself into the house later that night, I was met with the sight of Jordan and Annabelle sitting on opposite sides of the couch. They were engrossed in a movie I hadn't seen before and looked so comfortable around each other that I wanted to cry.
She had her feet slung across his lap, and he was resting a cushion on top of them. He didn’t shy away from her touch.
They looked so natural and at ease together. I debated just sneaking upstairs to bed, not wanting to interrupt the moment, but then I grew a pair of lady balls and flicked on the light.
"Hope," Jordan acknowledged fondly, craning his neck to look at me. "You've got to come watch this."
"It's brilliant," Annabelle chimed in, glancing up at me from her perch on the couch. "Leo won his first Oscar for his role in this movie."
"I don’t want to watch the fucking movie," I hissed, not even trying to mask my anger. "I thought you had to work tonight?"
My words hit Jordan hard, and he had the decency to flinch, b
ut he didn’t lie. He simply said, "What do you want me to say, Hope?"
What did I want him to say?
"How about you start with saying sorry for lying to me!" Ripping my coat off, I tossed it on the back of the armchair closest to me before leveling my gaze on my husband. I surprised myself with how cold my tone was when I said, "This is what was so important that you couldn’t stop by family night tonight?" I looked at Annabelle and then the television screen before returning my gaze to him. "A fucking movie was more important to you."
Sighing wearily, Jordan rubbed a hand down his face before getting to his feet. "They're not my family, Hope," he finally replied, standing and facing me now with only the couch between us.
"Well, they are mine, Jordan!" I screamed, not caring that Annabelle was in the room and watching me lose my shit. "My family. And you won't even try and make an effort with them."
"Why would I?" he shot back, tone equally angry. "With the exception of Lee, none of your family even likes me. Your brothers barely tolerate me, and Kyle? Your father can't stand the sight of me, Hope."
"Jay," Annabelle piped up in a warning tone. "Calm down. Now."
"Stay out of this," I snapped at her before turning my attention back to my husband. "Maybe they would like you if you made an effort once in a while." I didn’t bother denying the fact that my family weren't fond of my husband. "But you won't even try."
"No, I won't," he agreed, voice rising. "Because I refuse to put myself in a situation that jeopardizes my sobriety."
"Jordan!" Annabelle hissed, standing up now. "You need to calm down. Right now."
Meanwhile, I flinched, feeling like he had physically slapped me with his words. "And you're saying my family do that?" Clearing the lump that was trying to form in my throat, I rasped, "My family jeopardize your sobriety?"
"There's no point in trying to explain any of this to you," he growled impatiently. "Unless you've been in my shoes, you'll never understand."
