Inevitable: Carter Kids #5

by Chloe Walsh

  It made me want to do the same.

  Something about him now made me feel safe. I knew that sounded strange. He was still the same Cam, and yet, he wasn’t.

  I had five brothers, but Cameron was the one who reminded me most of our father. Stubborn and prideful, impulsive and strong – just like Dad.

  It was weird, but Tillie had changed my brother. She had reached into that closed off heart of his and flicked on a switch. His resemblance to our father only seemed to be growing.

  Stepping out on a ledge with Tillie was such a typical Dad thing to do.

  Going against everyone and everything he knew because he loved her? It was a crazy move and reminded me of something our father would do for Mom.

  I felt more on the same wavelength as Cam now, which was a first. I had never been able to relate to Cam before. He was the sibling I was least close to.

  Colton was the lovable, playful brother who always picked you up when you were down.

  Logan was the deep and meaningful one who gave the best advice.

  But Cam?

  Cam was always the explosive one. The one you never quite knew how to be around.

  Until now.

  "Everything's so fucked up, Cam," I muttered as I took a sip from my mug and moaned in delight when the chocolatey goodness hit my taste buds. Cameron made a kickass hot chocolate. As kids, whenever he pissed Mom off, he would make her a hot-chocolate. At the age of twenty-five, and after countless times pissing Mom off, my brother had perfected his signatory drink.

  "I'll say," Cam agreed with a snort.

  "Not helping."

  "Sorry."

  "So?" I demanded expectantly. "Come on and tell me how to fix the car crash that is my life."

  "Well," Cam mused, taking a sip from his mug. "You and Lucky are on good terms again, aren’t you?"

  "Yeah," I agreed with a relieved sigh. "Thankfully." When I relayed the antics at the bar to Cam, I had omitted the part about my deranged moment of madness when I had unilaterally cock-blocked Hunter. "We're fine again." Sagging in my chair, I continued, “But Jordan and me?" I shook my head. "Not so much."

  "He's still giving you the cold shoulder?"

  I scoffed. "I'd be lucky to get his shoulder."

  Cam frowned sympathetically. "That bad, huh?"

  "Imagine the worst," I shot back. "Then multiple it by ten."

  "Ouch," he muttered. "You've fucked yourself over good this time, Hopey-Bear."

  "Please don’t call me that again," I shot back with a groan. "Otherwise, I'll have to reconsider the promotion I've given you."

  His brows rose in surprise. "Promotion?"

  I nodded and took another sip of my hot-chocolate. "You've recently become my favorite brother. So, don’t screw it up with stupid pet names from our childhood."

  "Duly noted," he snickered. "And thanks for the promotion."

  "No problem – thanks for the niece or nephew." I blew into my mug and watched as steam rose from the rim. "So, where's Tillie this morning?"

  Cam exhaled a heavy sigh and rubbed his jaw. "She had to go visit her parents in Redford."

  I cocked a brow. "You didn’t go with her?"

  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat before saying, "I'm not exactly welcome around her family."

  "And why not?" Defensiveness sprang to life inside of me. "You're not the one with the crazy fucking aunt!"

  "Hope," Cam said in a warning tone, blue eyes locked on mine. "Don’t go there."

  "Fine," I placated with a huff. "I won't say another word on the matter."

  "Thank you." He ran a hand through his hair before admitting, "But let's just say, I'm not the only one with disapproving family. This is hard on Tillie, too. Her family aren't exactly stoked that she's dating a Carter." Shrugging, he added, "Whatever. I'm just trying to do whatever I can to make this as easy on her as I can."

  I stared at my brother for a long time before saying, "You're a good man, Cameron Carter."

  Cam gave me a look that said 'are you feeling okay' before smirking.

  "I mean it," I added sincerely. "I'm proud of the man you've become… of how you're taking care of your responsibilities."

  "I'm in love with her, Hope," he shot back gruffly. "More than I know what to do with it. Never thought I'd say that about a woman, but it's true." He smiled, revealing the deep dimple in his left cheek. "She makes me question myself and rethink everything I've ever done before. I am so goddamn sunk, it's not even funny."

  I laughed then; hearing my little brother use our father's analogy of being sunk was surreal. "You're certainly changing."

  "That's the thing," he replied, nodding eagerly. "She makes me want to do better – be better. I can't explain it properly – you know I'm shit with words – but when I'm with her, I need more, I need to get deeper. I'm always wanting more. And when I'm not with her?" He shook his head and laughed humorlessly. "It's like I can't fucking breathe until she walks back through that door and I see her again."

  "Wow," I mused, resting my chin on my hand. "You really are sunk."

  "What about you?"

  "What about me?"

  "It's the same for you, right?" Cameron grimaced before saying, "With Jordan."

  "It used to be," I admitted honestly.

  But things were different now.

  I had spent eight years apart from Jordan, and in that time, I had learned to cope on my own. I was still licking my wounds, trying to recover from an eight-year-long open gash across the center of my heart.

  That wound he left was still open and I had a feeling it would never quite fully close up.

  Reasons and excuses for our separation aside, I had been left broken in the aftermath of his abuse.

  I had been the collateral damage.

  And I was the one suffering for a bad man's crimes.

  And even though it pained me deeply to admit it; somewhere in between Jordan walking away from our marriage eight years ago and then changing his mind, he had lost a piece of me.

  Somewhere along the way, Hunter had squeezed his way into my heart and I hated myself for allowing it to happen, for being too weak to stop myself from caring, but it had happened.

  I loved my husband, but I wanted to spend my time with another man.

  How screwed up was that?

  Every time I heard my phone vibrate or saw the screen light up, I was immediately attacked by an onslaught of butterflies in my stomach. My heart fluttered. My palms turned slick from sweat. I was completely enraptured with Hunter. It wasn’t good or safe or sensible but it was exactly how I felt. And I craved the danger. I longed for the text messages and chance encounters. I longed for him.

  He was like a vibrant color that had burst into my black and white world. He made me think about life in ways I never had before. He made me second guess myself.

  He made me feel free.

  It killed me inside, knowing that I had managed to remain completely faithful my whole life to Jordan, and knowing that I had only ever given my heart, my affection, and my body to him just for it to not be enough anymore.

  It was soul-destroying.

  I didn’t know what to do to fix the problems in our relationship. I couldn’t use my body because he didn’t want it. I wasn’t at the top of his list and it freaking gutted me.

  All my life, I'd put him number one. And now I was expected to fall into the contented little house-wife role?

  It wasn’t me.

  I was bored and I needed excitement.

  I needed something else.

  Something more.

  "Hope, you know that you can always change your mind," Cam stated, pulling me from my thoughts. "This life you've signed up for?" he added as he stared at me intently. "It doesn’t have to be permanent. Not if it's making you as unhappy as you look right now."

  "What are you trying to say, Cam?"

  "I'm saying that a decision you made when you were eighteen doesn’t have to affect the rest of your life."

  "I'm
not giving up on him," I snapped, horrified that he was even insinuating I do that. "I'm here. I have been here for him, and I will continue to be here. I will never divorce him, Cameron. Over my dead body." I glared at my brother and hissed, "I would never be that selfish and it hurts me to know that you think I would!"

  Cam shook his head and exhaled heavily. "Accepting the fact that you've grown apart and aren’t the same people as back then doesn’t make you a failure, Hope. And it doesn't mean you don’t love him or have given up on him, either." Reaching across the table, Cam took my hand in his and squeezed. "This is your life, Hope. Your future isn’t something you can base on someone else feelings. Trust me when I tell you, there are times in life when you have to be selfish."

  Jordan

  Hope was sitting up in bed with her laptop open when I walked into our room after work.

  The minute she noticed me, I watched her body visibly tense up, but she didn’t say a word.

  Instead, she continued to tap away on her computer.

  "Hey," I offered, feeling like I had to say something to break the tension between us.

  "Hey," was her one word response.

  "How was your day?"

  "Fine. Yours?"

  Two words.

  "Long," I admitted, kicking off my shoes and yanking my shirt over my head.

  I was bone weary from a long ass day at work, and fighting with her was the last thing I wanted to do.

  Thankfully, she seemed to feel the same because she whispered, "You look exhausted, Jord."

  I was.

  So fucking tired.

  Pulling back the covers, I pretty much face-planted on the mattress, groaning in relief when the pressure of standing left my body.

  "Are we going to talk about this?" she asked, tone gentle. I heard the click of her laptop closing moments before her hand landed on the middle of my back. "We can't keep living like this, Jordan."

  "Like what?"

  "Strangers."

  "I warned you that being with me wasn’t going to be easy," I whispered, stiffening beneath her touch. "I'm giving you all I can."

  "I know," she agreed, resigned.

  "I did the meet your friends thing," I added, grimacing at the thought of that horrible fucking night.

  "And I appreciate it," she stated. "But I need more."

  Exhaling heavily into my pillow, I closed my eyes and willed myself to be a better man – the man she needed me to be.

  I knew what I looked like.

  A heartless bastard.

  I was fully aware that I was handling this badly, keeping her at arm's length, but it was all I knew. Every day was a struggle for me. Just living and breathing took so much out of me.

  She wanted my words.

  I couldn’t give them to her.

  I didn’t trust her anymore, and even if I did, masking my pain and concealing the lifetime of abuse I had endured was all I'd ever known.

  I’d made so many mistakes in my life.

  Some, I had learned from.

  Some, I knew there was no coming back from.

  I didn't want Hope's understanding back then, and I didn’t want it now.

  I didn't want her help or pity either.

  I didn't want her exposed to any of that shit and I didn’t want her to look at me differently.

  I couldn’t live up to her expectations.

  I couldn’t.

  I was dirty. Sullied. A fucking mess. And she was pure and perfect and better than everyone else.

  It fucking tortured me to know that I was hurting her.

  I was doing that.

  Me.

  How the hell was I supposed to explain all of that to her?

  How the fuck was I supposed to explain the fact that a piece of me resented her, too? For having a family that loved her. For being protected and loved and fucking cherished.

  For years, I was cast to the outside. Looking back on a life I had left behind. A life I had been forced to leave behind. I had to watch my friends, my family, live their lives without me. It hurt. It fucking pained me. But I’d made the decision to step back years ago. I couldn’t take it back. No matter how bad I wanted to.

  I couldn't deal with it then.

  I still couldn't.

  "Goodnight, Keychain," was all I whispered.

  I heard her heavy sigh and a part of me wanted to die inside.

  "Goodnight, Jordan."

  Chapter Forty-Two

  HOPE

  The horrible awkwardness that had settled between me and Jordan finally came to a boil the following Saturday. For the first time in months, Jordan wasn’t working and we were home together. Annabelle had taken Ryder to visit her sister in Boulder, leaving us with an empty house.

  I wanted to use the precious time to talk about things and clear the air between us.

  Obviously, I was the only one.

  He had been avoiding being alone with me since the night we talked about having children. I had tried to fix things between us on countless occasions since, but whenever I tried, he brushed me off by saying he was either too tired to talk or running late for work.

  We were sitting on opposite sides of the couch.

  Jordan was staring at the television screen while I was staring at his side profile.

  I was totally confused by his behavior as of late. It felt like we had taken three steps forward in our relationship only to take ten more back.

  I was running out of patience with this cold, standoffish version of my husband and I finally said as much. "What's wrong?"

  "Hmm?" he replied, not looking at me.

  "I asked you what's wrong," I repeated calmly, even though it was a hard thing to do. I hated being ignored. It was a hard limit for me. I had spent close to eight years being ignored by this man. I wasn’t prepared to do it again, not when we sat less than two feet apart from each other. "You've barely said more than two words to me in over a month," I added, trying to remain cool and composed. We were both adults and I wanted this to be a civilized conversation. "Is it because I said I wanted a baby?"

  "Is what because you said you want a baby?" he replied, jaw clenching, still watching the television.

  Anger flared to life inside of me. "This silent treatment, Jordan." That had to be it. I knew it. Men freaked out about babies.

  "No," he responded. "We talked about the baby thing. That's done with."

  "Is it because of the bar?"

  He frowned. "The bar?"

  "Yeah," I snapped, flushing. "Because I got drunk?"

  "You're a grown woman, Hope," he replied tightly. "You can do whatever you want to do."

  "Then why are you being like this?" I demanded hotly.

  "Like what?" he asked flatly.

  "So cold towards me," I hissed, chewing on the inside of my mouth to stop myself from screaming.

  "I'm not being like anything towards you," he shot back tersely. "You wanted to spend time together and I'm here. You wanted to eat dinner together, and I cooked us a meal. You wanted to watch a movie, and I'm watching it. I don’t know what else you want from me, Hope. I'm doing what you asked."

  "I want to talk," I said with a sigh of exasperation.

  "And I don’t want to," he deadpanned, shutting me down with the lack of emotion in his voice. Dammit, he was behaving like a fucking robot.

  "Please talk to me, Jordan," I whispered. "Because I'm starting to feel like I don’t even know you anymore." And the truth was, I didn’t. He wasn't the boy I'd grown up loving. He certainly wasn't the man I'd pledged to halve my life with. That guy was gone.

  "We used to be best friends," I choked out. "We used to tell each other everything." I shook my head, at a complete loss. "Don't you remember?"

  "I remember," he bit out as his jaw ticked.

  "You took me to my first dance. You were my first kiss. You were the first person I did everything with. And now?" I forced down the sob threatening to rack through me. "Now, it's fading."

  "Hope, don't –" />
  "Why not?" I demanded. "It's the truth, isn’t it? You don’t talk to me anymore. You don’t show me you love me. You don’t even seem to care!"

  "Of course, I care."

  "Then prove it," I shot back, chest heaving. "And talk to me."

  I watched as his body grew rigid and his jaw worked over. Finally, he said, "Okay. What do you want to talk about, Hope?"

  "I don’t know," I shot back. "How about our marriage? Or how you're feeling? How you feel about Derek now? Or maybe your mother?"

  The mom question was one I had been dying to ask him for months now, but hadn't managed to scrape up the courage. I knew absolutely nothing about Karen or what had happened to her since leaving The Hill.

  Back when we were kids, I resented her so much that I hadn't cared enough to ask. In my ten-year-old mind, she was the woman who had stolen my best friend away from me and could go to hell. As the years passed by, I thought about her on and off, but the resentment I felt was still very much alive, so I had never delved deeper. I had only cared about Jordan's wellbeing. Never his mother's.

  Jordan stiffened on the couch but didn’t respond. Instead, he continued to stare at the television screen, blatantly ignoring me.

  This irked me.

  "I asked you a question," I snapped in a tone a little hotter than I usually used with him. I didn’t want to come off like a bitch, but I wasn’t invisible either. I was his wife, and I deserved an answer.

  "I know," he replied tightly. I watched as his jaw worked and his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. "I'm not ready to talk about her, Hope. Talk about something else. Please."

  I wanted to scream well I am! But it was his choice.

  I couldn’t force him to talk to me.

  It was his decision on how far he wanted to let me in.

  "I want to help you, Jordan," I announced before releasing a weary sigh.

  I was weary.

  Weary of fighting and losing ground.

  Weary of standing on the sidelines, looking in. I wanted full disclosure.

  I wanted to be the woman he confided in.

  Not Annabelle.

  "You are helping me." He turned to face me then and his eyes were like green emeralds burning bright. "Being here with me?" he croaked in an almost helpless tone. "Staying? Giving me a second chance? That all helps me."