Inevitable: Carter Kids #5

by Chloe Walsh

  "I can’t believe this." Jerking away from him, I placed my hands on my hips and glared. "Have you any idea how much work I put into planning this evening for us?"

  "I'm sorry, okay?" He turned and grabbed a stack of paperwork off the counter. "Look, I really have to go." He paused and looked at me with a pained expression. "Can we talk about this when I get home?"

  "Are you serious right now?" I gaped at him. "No, we most certainly cannot talk about this when you get home!"

  "I'm sorry, Keychain, but this is my job. I have to go."

  "No. I don’t give a shit if this is your job or not," I snarled unsympathetically, following after him as he walked towards the front door. "Don’t you dare walk away from this, Jordan!" I hissed as I watched him open the front door. "I mean it," I called out in warning. "Walk out that door and there's no guarantee I'll be here when you get back."

  "I love you."

  And then he was gone.

  Again.

  Leaving me alone.

  Again.

  "Asshole!" Furious, I stormed into our bedroom and grabbed my overnight bag from under the bed. With trembling hands and a growing temper, I began to pack my pajamas and a spare change of clothes, needing to get the hell away from this place. Not bothering to change, I slipped an over-sized hoodie on before shrugging into a pair of baggy sweatpants.

  I wasn’t going to sit in this house and wait for him to come back.

  I'd spent eight long years waiting for him to come back.

  No more.

  No freaking more.

  I had to get out of here.

  For the sake of my own sanity.

  I couldn’t put up with living like this.

  Giving my whole, my freaking all, to him and getting a slither of him in return.

  Why couldn’t he stay?

  Why couldn’t he put me first for once?

  Because he didn’t want to, and because everything that ever happened in our relationship happened on his terms.

  It was all about what he wanted, what he felt okay with, what he decided was right, and I was done with it.

  It made me a horrible woman and a weak one, but I couldn’t handle this life.

  I wasn’t selfless enough to live like this.

  I couldn’t fight his demons, not when they were crippling me, too.

  I was losing myself in this and I didn’t like it.

  If he wasn’t prepared to put our marriage first, then why should I?

  When I had my overnight bag stowed away in my truck and was halfway down the street, I dialed Teagan's number.

  She answered on the third ring. "Hey!"

  "I need a favor."

  "Okay…"

  "Jordan and I had a huge fight." I looked in the mirror before pressing on my blinker and turning onto the street. "And I need a place to stay for the night. I can't go home and listen to my parent's bullshit, and they'll know if I check into the hotel."

  "Yeah, sure. Come over."

  I sighed in relief. "You're sure?"

  "Of course–" She paused and I heard some ruffling and whispered murmurs in the background. "We're not at home, but you still have your key, right?"

  I took a quick peek at my keychain and nodded. "Yeah, I do."

  "Hope?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Want me to kick his ass?"

  I bit back a smile. "God, I love you."

  When I reached the house, I killed the engine and just sat for a moment, thinking everything over.

  I felt so lost.

  I felt like a freaking teenager again and I despised it.

  I was beginning to resent myself for being so naively stupid for believing in love and happy ever after's. Because if this was mine? If this was all I got, I wanted a freaking refund.

  Anger and shame crept through me, causing me so much conflicting feelings that I lost it and smacked the shit out of my steering wheel.

  Maybe I needed to go downstairs to Noah's basement and work out my frustrations on one of his punching bags?

  I was so freaking frustrated and angry and bitter and a million other ugly, negative feelings.

  Bummed out, I let myself into the house and trudged straight into the kitchen, dropping my bag on the marble tiles before making a beeline towards the refrigerator.

  I needed something to drink.

  No, I wanted something to drink and I wanted to be able to drink it without having the guilt of consuming it around my recovering addict husband.

  Grabbing a chilled bottle of Savion Blanc, I retrieved a wine glass from the cupboard and plodded into the living room, preparing to spend the night in misery and mourning my failing marriage.

  Doomed, was the word I finally determined best suited our marriage.

  Jordan and I were fucking doomed from the get-go.

  Love wasn’t enough in our case and I didn’t think it ever would be.

  I didn’t bother switching on the television.

  I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything anyway.

  Not tonight.

  I waited for what felt like forever for him to call me or send a text.

  He didn’t.

  With every glass of wine I consumed, my cell became the enemy.

  I was burning mad.

  Hurt and rejection washed through my veins, blending with the alcohol and making for a disastrous concoction.

  Finally, the silence was broken by the sound of the front door slamming.

  Too drunk to get up, I remained where I was seated and decided to crane my neck around to see who was there.

  When my eyes landed on Hunter, and the gorgeous blonde draped in his arms, the pain I had felt earlier laughed at me.

  It was as if my heart was saying, Ha fool, you think that's pain, you haven't seen anything yet.

  Scorching, blinding, paralyzing spasms of pain shot through my alcohol ridden body.

  His eyes landed on my face and surprise filled his features before awareness dawned on him.

  But he didn’t push her away or try to explain himself like I had half expected him to do.

  No, instead he gently coaxed her up the staircase – to his bedroom no doubt

  Jesus.

  Oh, dear god.

  Clutching my chest, I was almost surprised when my hand came away without any remnants of blood; it certainly felt like I had just been sliced through the heart.

  Tears poured down my cheeks, but I remained silent, motionless, grief stricken on the couch.

  My soul felt like it was being dragged clean out of my body.

  I was surprised I was still breathing.

  I felt like I should have been dead by now because this pain should have killed me.

  One shrill, harsh sob tore from my throat and, angry with myself for letting it out, I threw my glass at the fireplace.

  The sound of the glass shattering didn’t help me or ease my pain, so I curled up in the smallest ball I could and rocked.

  I heard his pained growl moments before I felt his hands on my body.

  "Go away," I sobbed, barely able to breathe through the pain as Hunter hoisted me into his arms.

  "No," was all he replied as he carried me up the staircase towards my old room.

  When we reached my bedroom, he kicked the door inwards and walked us over to my bed before sitting me down and crouching on his hunches in front of me.

  "Get out," I cried.

  He didn’t.

  "I said go!"

  He ignored my screams and he didn’t leave.

  Instead, he reached up and wiped my mascara stained cheeks with his thumb. "No."

  "I hate you so much," I sobbed as I leaned my cheek into his touch.

  "I know," he whispered as he continued to clean me up.

  "Why are you even here? Go back to your whore!" I hissed, shoving him roughly away with one hand, only to bunch his shirt in my other hand and pull him closer. I was beyond confused. In fact, I was sure I was going crazy. "Fuck!"

  "I'm sure my sister
wouldn’t appreciate being called a whore," Hunter replied in a coaxing tone of voice. "Though, I've only known her a year, so I can't really vouch for her on that."

  "Your sister?"

  Hunter nodded and wiped my cheek with his thumb. "That hot mess you saw me cart off to bed was Hayden." He paused to capture another traitorous tear from my cheek before saying, "I got a call about an hour ago from a friend telling me to come pick her up." Sighing, he added, "Guess she fell off the wagon again."

  "I didn’t know you had a sister," I hiccupped, feeling like a fool for my demented reaction. "How old is she?"

  "Nineteen, though she acts like she's nine."

  "Damn."

  "What?"

  "I remember what that age felt like." I cringed in sympathy. "Tough age for a girl."

  "Seems to me like twenty-six isn’t exactly smooth sailing either?" He gave me a knowing look. "Am I right?"

  The grip I had on his shirt tightened as a pained sob tore from my lips. "God, I'm such a mess," I whispered, dropping my head in shame. "I think I'm going crazy."

  "Oh, I don’t know," Hunter replied with another overly-dramatic sigh. "Maybe just a tad." With his thumb, he tipped my chin upwards, forcing me to look at him. "But I like your crazy." With that, he tapped the tip of my nose with his finger and smiled sadly. "So, what happened?"

  I blinked in confusion. "Huh?"

  "You're here," he filled in, "you're alone, and you're sad. What happened?"

  "It's a very long, very drawn out story," I whispered, hiccupping as I tried to steady myself. Feeling both mentally and physically exhausted from tonight's events, I kicked off my sneakers and curled up in a ball on the bed. "But the ending goes something along the lines of 'he broke my heart again and now I get to live unhappily ever after’ – again."

  I watched Hunter watch me for the longest moment before he finally shook his head and rose to his feet. "Goodnight, HC."

  "Don’t go," I whispered when he turned for the door. "Please." Swallowing deeply, I added, "Can you just stay and hold me until I fall asleep?" Shivering, I added, "I just really need somebody to hold me tonight."

  I watched as a tirade of emotions flickered across his face before landing on what looked like subdued resignation.

  "Move over," he whispered and I did.

  The mattress dipped when he sprawled out beside me.

  Turning on my side, I snuggled my back against him and shivered when I felt his arm come around me. "You always make things better."

  His breath fanned my neck when he whispered, "Goodnight, HC."

  That night I slept like a baby.

  Lucky

  I woke to find her sleeping beside me.

  For the longest time, I just stared at her, memorizing the way her face looked when dawn was breaking.

  I knew I should wake her up, but I didn’t have the strength to.

  I wanted to keep her.

  Selfish as it sounded, I was glad she'd fallen asleep last night.

  I got to have her for a little while longer.

  For a stolen moment in time, I got to pretend that she was only mine.

  Of course, when she woke up and realized she'd accidentally spent the night in my arms, everything would go to shit and I would spend the next five days trying to reassure her of bullshit I didn’t believe and wanted even less.

  But I loved her.

  And loving her made me bend all of my morals.

  It changed something inside of me, softened something.

  Made me willing to do whatever it took to keep her happy, even if that made me miserable.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  HOPE

  Some days, the lonely, empty feeling inside my heart was harder to bear than others.

  Today was one of those days.

  When I woke up this morning, it was to storm clouds outside my window and a pain in my heart. It felt like the ridge between me and Jordan was spreading at a rapid rate.

  I figured this was how all women feel whose husbands had endured what mine had.

  In a perfect world, I would be waking up this morning to my husband's smiling face.

  Instead, I was waking up to the color of a cloud ridden sky and an empty bed.

  A glutton for punishment, I curled up in a ball and took stock of my life.; it was something I did every year on this day.

  Career wise, I had peaked at the tender age of twenty-two. Now I was riding the wave of success, having knocked out book after book for the last five years.

  My publishing success left me feeling anything but fulfilled though. Most days, I still felt empty inside, and knowing that my marriage wasn’t working the way I had hoped made me want to curl up and die.

  Sitting up in bed, I read and then reread the note I had found on my nightstand when I woke up.

  Raincheck on dinner tonight.

  Got called into work the double shift at the hospital.

  I'll see you in the morning.

  J. x

  I strived to find the part of my brain that was proud of my husband for being such and compassionate and amazing man that gave every waking hour of his time to people in need, but all I came back with was the word typical.

  This was so fucking typical.

  Scrunching up the handwritten note, I tossed it across the room and dropped back onto my pillow, feeling depressed and wishing I was anywhere but here.

  What the hell was I doing with my life?

  Where was this going?

  Jordan wasn't showing me that he wanted to make this work, and I was losing the will to keep going. I was growing weary of carrying the both of us, and a piece of my heart begged me to call it a day before it got any worse.

  Every day since returning from my brief escape to Teagan's, I questioned my decision on coming back here.

  I wondered if I was making a mistake.

  But what could I do?

  How I could I give up now?

  I could hear Annabelle and Ryder downstairs, but I didn’t dare go down and join them.

  It was still early and, knowing my luck, I would be left with the baby while she rushed off for whatever meeting she had today.

  Annabelle was beginning to rely on me for childcare like she did Jordan.

  And while I honestly loved Ryder, I didn’t want to become his built-in babysitter any more than I already was.

  Feeling cranky and drowning in disappointment, I reached for my phone on the nightstand.

  Unlocking the screen, I went straight into my messages and began to type.

  Hope: Teagan, I think I've made a huge mistake.

  I stared at the words I had typed and prayed for divine intervention, but all I got in response was a huge swell of guilt.

  How could I do that to Jordan?

  How could I even think those words, let alone type them out with the intention of sending them to Teagan? She was already burning mad at Jordan over our last fight. If she had further confirmation of how unhappy I truly was, she'd reign hell down on him.

  Thoroughly disgusted with myself, I erased the message and tossed my phone on the bed before wrapping my arms around my knees.

  I was a horrible human being.

  I had to be to think the things I did.

  Releasing a heavy sigh, I clenched my eyes shut and tried in vain to calm my racing mind.

  It didn’t work though.

  The silence around me only seemed to make matters a million times worse, and when I heard the sound of the doorbell ring around an hour later, I was still drowning in my rampant thoughts.

  I paused mid-meltdown and decided that the walls and flooring in this house must have been pathetically thin because I could hear Annabelle clearly as she greeted the person at the door. "Hello, you!"

  "Oh, hey… is Hope here?"

  Oh my god.

  Oh.

  My.

  Fucking.

  God.

  The minute I heard the familiar male voice, I leapt clean out of my bed in wide-eyed horro
r.

  "Omigod. What the hell is he doing here?" I yelped as I dove towards the chest of drawers across the room, only to stub my toe on the foot of the bed, and almost killing myself in the process.

  "Shit," I squealed, hopping to my destination on one foot. Throwing open the top drawer, I grabbed the first pair of pajama pants that came my way and roughly yanked them on. I grabbed a tank top and quickly pulled it on before hobbling out of the room.

  Weeks had passed since my meltdown at South Peak Road, and while we had fallen back into platonic-friends territory and had hung out on several occasions since, things were different now. Everything had intensified and I found myself more aware of him; how he moved, the different smiles he wore, his laugh, the color of his eyes, and how they changed slightly with his moods.

  When I reached the top of the stairs I was greeted by the sound of Annabelle's girlish laugh coming from the kitchen. "I can't believe how good you are with him, Lucky! He really loves your facial hair."

  "Yeah well, I love kids."

  "I can tell… do you have any kids of your own?"

  "Um, no."

  "But you want kids?"

  "Uh, sure. When the time comes."

  "That's really good to know…"

  Ugh.

  That skank was laying it on thick.

  With my bitch-mode in full force and my stubbed toe forgotten, I stomped down the stairs, fully prepared to shut this shit down.

  It was bad enough that I had to suffer sharing my husband with the woman, I was not sharing my Lucky, too!

  Okay, so I knew that made zero sense and Hunter wasn’t my anything, but dammit, she couldn’t have him.

  No fricking way.

  Like a woman on a mission, I marched towards the kitchen and slung the door open, feeling frazzled and, if I was being honest, a little territorial and deranged.

  However, the moment my eyes landed on Hunter standing in the middle of our tiny kitchen bouncing Ryder up and down in his arms, my annoyance evaporated and my ovaries exploded.

  No joke.

  The sight of this bad-ass man, covered in tatts and, let's be real, oozing sex appeal, holding a freaking baby, caused a very strong biological reaction inside of me.