Hope for Him (Hope Series Book #2)

by Sydney Aaliyah Michelle

  "What's the fun stuff?" she asked.

  "Romance, communication, companionship, laughter." I brought her hand up to my lips and kissed it. "Sex."

  "Oh, yeah, don't forget about sex."

  "If my calculations are correct, we have plenty of time to work on all five. Let's not put all these unrealistic expectations and pressure on ourselves. The hard part is over."

  "What's the hard part?"

  "Deciding that we want to be together." I turned to face her. "You do want to be with me?"

  "Yes."

  "Good, I want to be with you, too."

  "Great."

  "Great." I leaned over and kissed her cheek. "We'll work on the rest as it comes along."

  "Okay, but I have one request. If we are truly going to have a shot at being together, you have to do one thing for me, sooner rather than later."

  "What's that?"

  "Break up with your girlfriend."

  I left Carrington's house hopeful about our future. The good vibes lasted until I turned on my street and saw Tiffany's car in my driveway. I sat in my car for a good five minutes rehearsing what I was going to say.

  I opened the door and headed up the stairs. I found her on the couch curled up under a blanket watching television. She rolled over to watch me walk in. I fixed a smile on my face, but she frowned and faced the television. My throat went dry. I grabbed a bottle of water and sat on the other end of the couch.

  She stretched out her feet and laid them on my lap. I set the water down and sat back and waited for the show to finish.

  After the next week’s attraction, I hit the off button on the remote and Tiffany sat up. She pulled the blanket up around her neck and waited for me to speak.

  From the expression on her face, she knew what I was about to say.

  "I'm sorry, Tiffany. I didn't mean for this to happen."

  She bit her bottom lip and rocked back and forth.

  "For what to happen?" she asked, her voice a whisper.

  She wasn't going to make this easy.

  "I didn't mean to hurt you."

  "Jackson, say it." Her voice gained volume and her tone projected anger, but her face remained neutral.

  "Say what?"

  "I want to hear you say it." She stood up and paced in front of me. "I want to know why. What does she have that I don't?"

  I wanted to say my heart. Carrington had always had my heart. But that wouldn't have gone over well.

  "We had some great times together, and I appreciate everything you have done for me. Why can't we just end it? No need to make a big scene."

  "End it. You want me to just end it. Pack up my stuff and walk out of here. Forget about the last ten months." She collapsed on the couch. "I love you, and I thought you loved me."

  "Tiffany, I care about you."

  "No, you love me."

  "What do you want me to say? What difference does it make now?"

  I put my arm around her, and she pushed me away. My heart was breaking for her. I felt bad that I never felt the same way about her as she did for me. Worse, I didn't realize how much she'd fallen for me.

  Or maybe I realized it but didn't care. I felt bad about that, too.

  "Tiffany, I didn't mean to hurt you." Maybe she did need to hear it. "But I'm in love with someone else."

  Tiffany had a mean streak, but it was worse that she was too hurt to lash out. She cried and sobbed. She clung to me when I tried to hold her, but then pushed me away.

  She crawled back onto the corner of my couch and laid a blanket over her. She laid her head back and didn't speak for a half an hour. When I tried to speak, she shushed me and lay there rubbing her temples.

  I left her and went into the bathroom to take a shower. Ten minutes later, the bathroom door opened. I pushed the shower curtain aside to find her standing there naked with tears running down her face. I saw something else in her eyes, a look of hope. We'd been at this place so many times before. In the past, her offer of sex was all it took to get me to give in, but this time, I didn't feel the normal pull toward her.

  I turned my back on her and turned off the water. I took the towel off the rack, walked past her into my room, and closed the door. I didn't have anything more to say.

  After another ten minutes past, I heard the front door slam. When I headed back to the living room, she left a note on the coffee table.

  No one will ever love you like I do. Tiff.

  It was a simple message. I reread it looking for a hidden meaning to her proclamation. I wasn't sure if my passive-aggressive, sex-smoothed-everything-over, ex-girlfriend had threatened me or not. I tore the note up and threw it away, deciding I probably didn’t need to call the police.

  I headed to bed, but I couldn't sleep. I should feel worse about breaking up with Tiffany, but I didn’t. I felt lighter. I wanted to call Carrington but figured I should give it a day or two.

  I lasted an hour.

  "Jackson?"

  Her voice sounded groggy and sexy. The hair on my arms stood up when she said my name.

  "Hey. Sorry to wake you."

  "No, it's okay. Is everything all right?"

  "Yeah, everything's good. I just wanted to hear your voice."

  "What time is it?"

  I held my phone away from my ear to check the time. It was two-thirty in the morning.

  "Oh, wow. Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't realize how late it was. Go back to sleep."

  She grunted as she moved. I pictured her in her bed wearing my jersey or an FSU tank top, maybe nothing. I shook my head to get the thought out of my head, but it was not an easy feat. It had been a long time since Carrington and I had slept together, but I could recall that night from my memory in a nanosecond. The way her skin felt. The way her hands felt wrapped around me. The way she bit her lip and threw her head back when she lost control. I loved watching her curled up under the covers afterward with a peaceful look on her face, and the fact that as soon as she woke up the next day, she wanted me, again.

  "Well, I'm up now." She shifted. "Did you call me baby?"

  "What? No."

  "Yes, you did. You said ‘Baby, I'm sorry.’"

  "Oh wow. I guess I did."

  "You realize this is Carrington you are talking to?"

  "I know exactly who I'm talking to. The woman who has my heart."

  "Jackson, what is going on?"

  "This may be highly inappropriate, but when you've waited two years to do something, you kind of don't want to wait another second."

  "Do what?"

  "Would you like to go out with me on Friday night?” I felt like I was back in high school asking Nicole Blaine, my high school girlfriend out for the first time.

  "What?"

  "Dinner. You know the meal you have at the end of the day."

  "I know what dinner is. Are you asking me out on a date?"

  "Yeah, it's about time, don't you think?"

  "Well, I hate to spoil the mood of this extremely romantic, yet late night gesture, but what would your girlfriend say about that?"

  "What girlfriend?"

  "Jackson Latre Mitchell, it is way too effing late to be playing word games."

  "Okay, so I had a girlfriend, but as of two hours ago, I became a single man."

  "Really?" Her voice sounded muffled, but came back clear. "What happened?"

  "You really want to hear about this?"

  "If you need to talk, yes."

  I wasn't sure what to tell her. I didn't want to tell her the truth, but I needed to stop lying to her, too.

  "I think we were both holding on to what we had because we didn't want to hurt each other."

  "Wow, what a nice guy."

  I pulled the phone away from my ear and look at it.

  "You don't believe me."

  "No."

  "Okay, you tell me why we stayed together?"

  "Because you're scared to death to go after what you really want." She giggled. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not one to judge. I have the same p
roblem."

  "What do you want, Carrington?"

  "Generally or specifically?"

  "Generally?”

  "I want to be happy, genuinely happy. Jack happy. No bad things have been ingrained into my brain kind of happy."

  "Yeah, no pressure there."

  "Well, that kind of happiness, you can't get from another person, so you're right, no pressure."

  "Did this conversation kind of take a turn off topic?"

  She was quiet for a minute.

  "Maybe," she whispered.

  “Let me call you on FaceTime.”

  “No, I look awful.”

  “Come on. I’m sure you look great. Besides, I want to see your face.”

  She activated the camera, and I switched mine on, too.

  She looked better than I imagined and oh so hot.

  “There you are.”

  She giggled and I wanted to drive over to her house and hear it live.

  Her faced scrunched up and I spoke before she freaked herself out even more.

  "Carr, we don't have to figure the rest of our lives out tonight. I wanted to ask you out to dinner. That's all."

  "Can I ask you one question?"

  "Yeah, sure." My chest tightened. I rubbed it in anticipation of what she might ask.

  "How did she react? Was she upset?"

  "Tiffany?"

  "Yeah."

  "Why do you want to know?"

  "I guess it would say something about how she felt about you if I knew how she reacted."

  "Yeah, she was upset and sad, but not angry."

  "Oh,” She paused and continued. “Were you upset?"

  "It's never easy telling someone you don't want to be with them anymore."

  "Yeah. You okay?"

  "I'll be better if you accept my invitation."

  "Okay.”

  "Okay. Great. I have two days to come up with an epic first date.” I laughed and cleared my throat. I needed a drink.

  “Shouldn’t you be concentrating on the NC State defense?”

  “NC States defense is easy compared to you.”

  “Uh, thanks, I think.”

  “I mean, I’ll have them on their ass in a few plays.” I chuckled. “You might take a little more effort.”

  Her cute nose crinkled up.

  “I just mean, this is our first date, I want to make it special.

  “No pressure?”

  “Right, no pressure,” I said.

  After we had hung up, I feel asleep with her sexy image ingrained in my mind and it made for some satisfying dreams.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Carrington Olivia Butler

  After hanging up with Jackson, I could not fall back asleep. Jackson was single. He dumped Tiffany.

  He dumped Tiffany for me.

  The idea made my stomach clench, and I had to take deep breaths to prevent myself from throwing up last night’s dinner.

  It was kind of sweet, though—Jackson asking me out on a date. It somewhat took the pressure off. He broke up with Tiffany hours ago. We needed to take it slow. I wasn't convinced that I was good enough for him.

  Despite breaking up with his girlfriend, Jackson was such a good man, and he had so much going for him. It didn't make sense. Although, he sounded so sweet and excited, and I loved that I was the first person he wanted to talk to about stuff.

  We were great friends. Jackson was the best friend I'd ever had. But did that translate into being good together? Maybe I needed that therapy session sooner rather than later.

  My therapist back home, who I quit seeing because the therapy made me more anxious than the attack itself, seemed almost giddy when I asked her for a recommendation.

  She sent me the doctor’s info in a text so fast, made me think she knew I was going to call.

  A couple of days later, I had my first session.

  Dr. Tracy Addison’s office was on a street in a residential neighborhood, but it appeared all the houses on the street were businesses. I parked by the curb and looked up and down the street. It seemed quaint; I took my time heading up the walkway. I pressed the doorbell and a short older lady in a tracksuit opened the door.

  “You must be Carrington.”

  “Yes, Dr. Tracy?”

  “Oh, no dear. Dr. Tracy is just finishing up his last session. I’m Helen. Please come in and have a seat.” She motioned me in and I walked into someone’s living room. I took a seat on the nearest couch and the older lady handed me a clipboard full of forms. “Please fill these out and I’ll let Dr. Tracy know you are here.”

  I sunk into the couch cushion and started on form one. By the time I finished the third page, I heard my name.

  “Carrington.”

  “Yes.” I looked up and a tall, thin, tanned man with sun-kissed wavy blond hair and sun-damaged skin stood in front of me. “Hi, I’m Tracy.”

  “Uh, okay?” I narrowed my eyes and took his outstretched hand.

  “Can I get you anything? Coffee, Tea.”

  “Uh, no.”

  “You were expecting someone else?”

  “I was expecting a ...woman,” and someone in pants and a nice shirt. Tracy looked like he had an appointment with some waves as soon as he was done with me.

  “Well, yeah. The name confuses people, but I hope that won’t be a problem for you.”

  “No, I mean. I don’t think so.” I watched him pour himself some coffee into a large white mug. He sat on the couch opposite me with his legs crossed and stared at me.

  “Good. I spoke with Dr. James and she gave me a general overview of your past, but I wanted to hear most of it from you.”

  “Okay.”

  “So, why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

  “I’m not sure really.” He blew into his coffee cup and waited for me to continue. “So, I was involved in an incident last year where my boyfriend beat me up and almost killed me and my son.”

  “You were pregnant, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me about your son.”

  I had been sitting perched in the edge. I relaxed and sunk back into the couch.

  “He’s amazing. He’s almost eighteen months. So smart and funny.”

  “All right.”

  I sat on my hands to stop myself from flashing him a hang loose hand sign.

  “That’s great, Carrington. Do you feel the way your face lights up when you talk about him? You remember that, when you feeling anxious?”

  “How do you know I’m anxious?”

  “Well, you're clearly not depressed, and considering you moved back to the place where your attack took place, it’s natural for you to be anxious.”

  I tilted my head and stared at Dr. Tracy.

  “And a little confused about your emotions.”

  “A little.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Cool. All normal. It would be weird if you didn’t have these feelings and the fact you already have one tool to deal makes my job easy.”

  “Easy?”

  “Well, easier, anyway.”

  I felt the tension in my face increase and dissipate as I watched Dr. Tracy take notes on a legal pad balanced on his crossed knees.

  “So, tell me your story.”

  I found myself telling Dr. Tracy everything that’s been in my head for the last sixteen months. It was not like I hadn’t talked about it before, but something was different this time. Before my boyfriend beat me up, I wondered what it was like to get in a fight. What did it feel like to be hit with a fist? It was my secret sadistic streak rearing its ugly head and why I got involved with a controlling sociopath. I was the type of girl who gravitated toward sociopaths.

  I never felt good enough. Didn't get enough attention at home. I had self-esteem issues, though by society’s standards, I was attractive. I traced these characteristics back to my first real boyfriend in high school who wanted me to stand out more. He criticized the way I talked, the way I dressed, and everything else he could think of to m
ake me feel less than special.

  I came to FSU with the idea of reinventing myself and shining, so that was why I sought out the attention of the guy whose name was on a building.

  “So, my therapist back home said that I am a victim of my ingrained personality traits, and I needed to make a conscious effort to overcome them.”

  “Did she use the whole, we might all be sociopaths and psychopaths, but our environment and the way we process information leads us to behave bad or good. A person’s behavior is all about choice. We can choose to live in the past or we can choose to move on and be who we want to be.”

  I nodded my head.

  “Yeah, that’s bullshit. We make choices every day. Neither good nor bad, they just are what they are. I’d rather we concentrate on what keeps you from letting go of the choice you conceive as bad.”

  #

  Jackson left me a text Friday morning.

  Jackson: Meet me at the library at six.

  He handled NC State with ease. The team got back late last night. I knew he would be tired. I figured dinner and an early night. I was wrong on both accounts.

  I sat on the steps of the library waiting and watched him walk across campus with a duffle bag in his hand and a grin on his face. He wore blue jeans and a dark long sleeve shirt. A silver metal chain hung around his neck. His face was flush and his hair wet from a recent shower. My eyes traveled up his body when I reached his face, he tilted his head and squinted his eyes and chuckled. I looked away. My mind was starting this date all wrong.

  "Hello, Carrington."

  "Hello, Jackson."

  He leaned over and kissed my cheek but didn't touch me. He didn't need to touch me. My nerve endings were on full alert from his crisp and clean smell. Jackson walked past me and up the steps toward the library.

  "You coming?" He held the library door in his hand.

  "Where are we going?"

  "On our date."

  "In the library? I didn't bring my books."

  "I'm going to let you in on a little secret."

  "What?"

  "The library has books."

  I hit him on the sleeve.

  "Come on," he said. "You're going to love this."

  I followed him down the center aisle of the library. A couple of students were huddled near the end of one of the twenty rows of tables that lined the entire first floor. The walls were covered with those big, dusty research books that no one ever used. The real books were on the other four floors.