Inevitable: Carter Kids #5

by Chloe Walsh

  "I'm fine, Jordy," she replied with a small smile that didn’t meet her eyes. "Don’t worry about me."

  She ducked her face again, concentrating on the plate of food in front of her, and it made me want to groan in frustration.

  Hope was still here.

  Still trying.

  Still fighting for me.

  For what was left of us.

  Except she wasn’t with me anymore.

  Not completely.

  Yeah, she was sitting in the chair opposite mine. She was with me in the flesh, but her mind was somewhere else entirely.

  And it was all on me.

  That wild, carefree girl I'd spent my life adoring?

  She was gone.

  I'd broken her spirit.

  My life had sucked the happiness out of hers.

  And now, she was living with everything I had tried to protect her from.

  I watched as he ran her fingers through her wild curls and bit back a pained sigh.

  She was magnificent.

  So damn beautiful.

  But her mind was the most beautiful part of her.

  It was like a dark abyss of secrets.

  I knew she was keeping things from me now.

  I also knew I deserved it.

  I wondered if I would ever be granted entry into that inner circle she seemed to reside with.

  Deep down inside, I knew there was a part of Hope Carter unattainable to me now. A piece of her heart closed off and retired. It belonged somewhere else.

  I just hoped that the biggest part still belonged to me.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  LUCKY

  "Morning, Luck," Teagan chirped when I walked into her kitchen on Thursday morning.

  It was the first time I'd seen her in over a week and her stomach seemed to have doubled in size. I'd been staying at Thirteenth Street, looking after Cash and Casey while Kyle and Lee were away.

  They'd gotten back this morning and I headed straight over here.

  "Do you want a fried egg?" Teagan offered as she stood in front of the stove with a spatula in her hand. "I'm craving grease this morning."

  "Nah, I'm good," I shook my head, passing on the offer of breakfast as I sank down on one the stools at the breakfast bar.

  I was too fucking worried to eat.

  "What's wrong with Hope?" I came right out and asked.

  I hadn't heard from her since last weekend when she showed up at her parents' house looking really fucking upset. I'd sent her a dozen messages since, and had tried calling her twice.

  They all went unanswered.

  Something was wrong, and I was anxious, which was an entirely new feeling for me.

  I didn’t get anxious about anything. I'd never had reason to.

  Until now…

  I didn't feel and I didn't get involved.

  I lived by those two rules and I was still breathing.

  I fucked women, loose women, and I did it without an ounce of guilt.

  I didn't make love.

  Not to anyone.

  That part of my soul was gone, it had been buried with her.

  Until Hope Carter crashed into my world twelve months ago and knocked me on my ass.

  The fucked-up thing was, I didn’t even see her coming.

  And hell if she hadn't taken me down like a hurricane.

  "She's ignoring you, too?" Teagan spun around to face me and let out a huge sigh. "Oh, thank god. I thought it was just me."

  I frowned. "She hasn’t been coming over here?" She usually came here every day.

  "Not since last week," she replied, brows furrowed. "I thought I'd done something to piss her off, so I was giving her space to cool down and remember what a wonderful person I am. But now? Now, I'm worried."

  "Yeah," I muttered, rubbing a hand over my jaw. Me, too.

  "I'll call her after breakfast," she said. "See what's going on." Her face darkened then. "If that dickhead has upset her, I'm going to kill him."

  "Jordan?"

  "Who else?" Teagan scowled. "He's made it his life's mission to crush that girl. There's no doubt in my mind he's the problem here…. ugh, you know what? Screw the eggs. I've lost my appetite," she groaned, dropping the spatula down on the counter before turning off the gas at the stove. "I'll do it now. I won't be able to eat until I know she's okay."

  Teagan disappeared down the hallway for a few minutes before returning with a frown etched across her face.

  "Well?" I demanded, feeling anxious as hell.

  "She's fine," she mumbled, still frowning. "She's at the hotel – went to see her dad."

  "Then why are you looking like that?"

  "Because…" Teagan's voice trailed off. She stared down at the phone in her hands and blinked a few times before looking up at me. "I've got this bad feeling, Luck. In the pit of my stomach." She chewed on her lip. "She sounded like she'd been crying."

  I was off the stool and moving towards the door.

  "Where are you going?" she called after me.

  "To see her."

  "Want me to come with you?"

  "No," I shot back, heading for the door. "I've got this."

  Whatever was happening with Hope, I was going to fix it.

  Yeah, I was the fucking fix-it guy now.

  Hope

  When my father called this morning, asking me to meet him at the hotel later that afternoon, I just knew he wanted to talk about my grandfather.

  They were just back from their trip and the seriousness in Dad's voice assured me that it had not gone his way. I was fully convinced he was going to sit me down and give me the bad news that the judge had decided to release David.

  When I walked into my father's office later that afternoon and saw him sitting on the throne of the Henderson empire, looking every inch the ruthless business man, I began to wonder.

  "Take a seat, Hope," Dad said, all businesslike, when he spotted me hovering in the doorway.

  "Okaaay," I replied, feeling extremely jittery as I claimed the chair opposite him.

  For some reason, whenever I sat in this office, I didn’t feel like the confident, self-assured, grown woman I was supposed to be. No, with my father looking at me the way he was, I was reverted to a bashful and secret-ridden teenager.

  What was this about?

  Was I about to receive bad news?

  Was I in trouble?

  "Is David out?" I finally blurted out, unable to stand the unknown.

  "No," Dad replied, frowning at what had to be my terrified looking expression. "I managed to get his hearing adorned for two weeks."

  I pressed a hand to my chest and sagged in my chair. "Oh, thank god," I whispered, as relief filled my heart. "I thought you called me here to give me the bad news."

  "But I think we need to brace ourselves for the possibility that he might be," he said then, blowing my world to smithereens. "I've been talking to my attorney – several of them actually - and it's not looking good, sweetheart."

  "What?" I breathed, wide-eyed and horrified. "But you said –"

  "I know what I said, Hope," Dad bit out, blues eyes filled with pain. "But he's the perfect fucking prisoner. Perfect rap sheet. Perfect behavior. Smart enough to display remorsefulness to the right people. And he's already served thirteen years of his sentence." Swallowing roughly, he added, "Compassionate release or not, he was getting out next year anyway."

  "But he's dying," I snarled. "Can't they just let him die in there?"

  "Hope–"

  "You can't let this happen, Dad," I choked out. "You have to stop this."

  "It's not definite, Hope," Dad replied, tone worn and pained. "And I'll fight it every step of the way, sweetheart. But we're going to have to accept the fact that in a few short weeks, he could be a free man."

  "They can't let him out, Dad," I choked out. "He's going to come straight for us."

  "I won't let that happen," he vowed. "I promise, he's not going to get anywhere near you guys."

  "How can you p
romise that?" I squeezed out.

  "Because I'm your father," he growled, running a hand through his hair. "And I would take the damn world down before I allowed a hair on your head to be harmed." He exhaled heavily and added, "Any of you! I'll keep you safe."

  His phone rang then, distracting him from our screwed-up conversation, and he pulled his cell out of his pocket.

  "Carter," Dad said in a clipped tone.

  I watched his face as he listened to whatever was being said on the other line. "I'm tied up here, Kenny," he snapped, tone impatient. "What's the fucking urgency?" He frowned then and cast a glance towards me. "He's here?" Dad sighed heavily and ran another hand through his hair. "No, no, you can send him up in five." He smirked then. "Yeah, I didn’t think he would."

  "What was that about?" I asked when he had ended the call. "Pushy guest demanding to speak to the owner?"

  "Something like that," Dad shot back with a wry smile.

  "What are you smirking at?"

  "Irony, sweetheart," Dad replied.

  "Irony?" I frowned in confusion. "The irony of what?"

  "Of history repeating itself," he finally answered.

  I frowned in confusion. "History?"

  "History," Dad confirmed. "Which brings me to the second thing I wanted to talk to you about." Shrugging, he added, "You know, without the rest of the family adding their two cents."

  "There's more?" I asked, gaping. "Please tell me it's not more bad news, Dad?"

  "Not bad, per say." Dad ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "How's… life?"

  I gaped. "Life?"

  He nodded. "Yeah, life."

  I shrugged uncomfortably. "It was going fine until you told me that my deranged, psychopathic grandfather could be released from prison."

  "Crazy grandfather bullshit aside," Dad countered, frowning a little at his own words. "How's…everything?"

  "Fine, I guess." I stared at how uncomfortable he looked right now and asked, "Are you okay, Dad? Is there something you want to talk to me about?"

  "On the contrary, I was hoping there was something you might want to talk to me about," he replied.

  "Me?" I frowned. "I'm fine, Dad. Nothing to report."

  "Why do I find that so hard to believe?"

  "I am fine," I repeated.

  "How's everything going with Jordan..." His voice trailed off and he reached up and loosened his tie before saying, "He treating you right?"

  "We're fine," I forced the lie from my lips and smiled brightly to boot.

  "Yeah?" he shot back, looking unconvinced.

  "Yeah," I confirmed.

  My father continued to study my face with sharp blue eyes, a color spookily similar to my own.

  Shoving back his chair, Dad stood up and walked around his desk. Leaning against the front of it, he comically ran his hand through his mussed up brown hair and blew out a breath. I had a feeling that whatever he was about to say was painful for him both to admit and verbalize so I gave him my full attention. "Look. I know what I've been like with you. I've treated you different to your brothers. Held you on a pedestal. Tried to wrap you up in cotton wool." Sighing he added, "Obviously, I did the wrong thing…"

  "Dad–"

  "Hear me out." He sighed again before saying, "You ran away from home at eighteen. You married him in secret and lived with that pain for almost a decade. You were… alone." He crunched his nose up, like the words he was speaking were causing him physical pain. "Because you couldn’t talk to me. Because I made it impossible for you to be a…a…

  "Woman?" I offered, fighting back a smile at the huge change in conversation.

  "Yes." Dad nodded. "Because I struggled to accept that you were becoming a woman." He shook his head and exhaled a sigh. "I'm sorry, Hope. I am. And I blame myself for where you are now."

  "Dad–"

  "I want you to know that you can talk to me," he interrupted. "Without being judged. I promise you, sweetheart, that the only thing you will get from me is my support and love. Because I love you so goddamn much!"

  "What's this about, Dad?" I whispered, feeling my cheeks burn. "What are you expecting me to say here?"

  "I don’t know," he shot back. "Maybe the truth about how you're really feeling?"

  I sat back and gaped. "What?"

  "Do you think I can't see when one of my children is unhappy?" he asked, eyes locked on mine. "Hell, I can see it in your eyes right now. The pain inside of you. The secrets you're hiding."

  "I don’t have any secrets and I am not unhappy, Dad," I shot back, feeling unnerved at his perception. "I'm fine."

  Dad cocked a brow at me. "Don’t piss down my back and tell me it's raining, Hope Carter, and don’t you dare say you're fine again." He was on the move again, pacing the floor. "I hate that fucking word, especially when it comes out of a woman's mouth."

  "What's wrong with being fine?"

  Dad snorted. "I've been with your mother for almost thirty years, Hope. You think I don’t know how misleading the word fine is?" He smirked before saying, "Not my first rodeo, sweetheart."

  "It's hard, okay?" I admitted, voice torn and thick with emotion. "Being back together after all those years apart?" I swallowed the lump in my throat before continuing, "It's taking some time for both of us to… adjust."

  "Adjust?" Dad repeated, frowning. "I know I'm getting old here, but what the fuck does that mean? Is that code for something?"

  "No," I grumbled. "It means what it means."

  "Adjust," Dad repeated once more, still looking puzzled. "To what?"

  "Ugh, Dad," I groaned. "Please don’t make me spell it out for you."

  His eyes widened as awareness dawned on him. "Adjust," he choked out, paling. "As in… romantically?"

  "Do we really have to talk about this?" I wailed, mortified.

  "Fuck no," Dad wheezed, sounding thoroughly disgusted. He stood up then and walked over to his office door. "Just go back to lying to me and telling me you're fine…" Pausing at the door, he turned around and said, "Just, answer me one question."

  "Okaaay?"

  "Do you love him?"

  What kind of question was that?

  "Of course, I love him," I shot back with an eye roll. "He's my husband."

  "That's good," Dad replied without hesitation. "But I was talking about the second coming of Charlie fucking Hunnam. You know, your uncle's cellmate who hasn’t stopped looking at you longingly since you came home?"

  "Dad!" I hissed before taking a moment to mentally high fiving him for his accurate descriptive techniques. Meanwhile, my heart rate skyrocketed. "You can't be serious?"

  "You must think I've been living under a rock," Dad shot back. "And hell, most of the time, when it comes to you, I prefer living under a rock, but when I can see it, how he looks at you? How you look at him? That's pretty fucking serious." He exhaled heavily before saying, "So tell me straight, sweetheart. Are you in love with the man?"

  "He's my friend," I spat, as I desperately tried to calm my racing pulse. "That's all. Jesus, Dad!"

  "Huh," Dad mused before placing his hand on the doorknob. "Well your friend is here to see you."

  With that, my father yanked opened his office door and my eyes landed on Hunter standing in the doorway.

  The minute I saw him, I sprang to my feet, a kneejerk reaction.

  He looked from me to my father and nodded in acknowledgement.

  "Kyle."

  "Lucky," Dad replied, gesturing him inside.

  His brows were furrowed. Concern was etched on his face.

  "What's wrong with you?" he asked, tone low and gruff, turning his attention back to me. "Teagan said you sounded upset on the phone."

  Hunter didn’t seem to give a damn that my father was standing at the door, watching our interaction.

  He walked straight over to me and enveloped me in a hug. "Are you okay?"

  Stunned, I could do nothing but stand there as he wrapped me up in his arms.

  "I'm fine," I squeezed out, patti
ng his back. "Honestly, I'm fine."

  "She's all yours, Luck," Dad called over his shoulder. "Maybe you can get her to open up."

  With that, Dad walked out of his office, leaving us alone.

  "I think my father likes you." I frowned at the thought. "Scratch that; he definitely likes you."

  "Of course he does." Hunter looked down at me and grinned. "Everyone likes me."

  "Wow, Hunter," I chuckled, taking a step back, and breaking our hug. "Cocky much?"

  "There's nothing wrong with being self-assured, HC," he shot back with a wink. "You should try it sometime – god knows you have plenty to brag about."

  "Really?" I countered as I walked around to my father's chair and sank into it. "How about my failing marriage? Should I brag about that?"

  Hunter didn’t say anything to that right away.

  Instead, he took the seat opposite me and just stared across the table at me.

  "Please forget I just said that," I mumbled, mortified at my gut reaction to blab like a baby to this man. "I was being over dramatic."

  "No can do," he countered, icy blue eyes locked on mine. "What happened?"

  "Nothing," I said, flushing.

  "Bullshit," he countered, cocking a brow in challenge. "Bull-fucking-shit, HC."

  "Well, how about I don’t feel like talking about it?" I snapped a little hotly.

  "Better," he replied, not missing a beat.

  "And I especially don’t want to talk about it with you." Okay, that sounded bitchy, but I couldn’t help it. I also couldn’t stop myself from adding, "You are the last person on earth I want to talk about my marriage with!"

  Anger boiled inside of me, caused by Jordan, but directed entirely at Hunter.

  I knew I was being a complete bitch right now, and taking my frustrations out on the wrong man, but he was the one that was here.

  "You know, I didn’t answer your calls for a reason, Lucky!" I sneered, hating myself more with every word I spoke. "You'd think you'd take the hint that I don’t want to talk to you, but no. You had to come over here and torment me!" Exhaling a ragged breath, I hissed, "I don’t want to be around you right now. And another thing; I don’t even know why you'd think I'd want to talk to someone like you."