Wish I May (New Hope)

by Lexi Ryan

  “Would you excuse me for a minute?” I push out of the booth before she can answer. Suddenly it’s too hot in here and I need some fresh air. I don’t make it to the door before someone grabs my arm.

  When I look up, Meredith’s eyes are boring into mine. “Look who’s here.”

  I step back. Shit. I don’t want to face her tonight. “Hey, Meredith.”

  I try to side step her, but she holds on tight. “I had an interesting chat with Carl York today.” She actually smiles, as if what Carl told her about me is the best possible news. “I wonder how much William knows about your escapades as a call girl back in Vegas.”

  I stumble backward and my feet tangle under me as my back hits a tray. The next thing I know, glass is shattering and I’m soaked with beer. The smell is more that my stomach can handle but I force myself to take slow, steady breaths.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say to the waitress, who is also soaked, eyes wide in horror.

  “It’s okay,” she mumbles, dropping to her haunches to pick up shards of glass.

  Meredith shakes her head slowly. “Some people cause you nothing but trouble.”

  I’m stuck in place and before I can unfreeze myself, Lizzy rushes over and grabs towels off the bar. “Let me help you with that.” She flashes me a worried look before dropping to her haunches.

  “My offer still stands,” Meredith says, and then she turns and leaves.

  As I busy myself with helping the girls clean up the mess, my stomach surges into my throat at the thought of that bitch living the life I want. A life with William. His babies in her belly. I’ll get out of the way and let Will make his choice, but now I know I can’t take her money. Because I’m not for sale anymore.

  I make excuses to leave early, but Maggie follows me outside. She takes me by the shoulders, determination gleaming in her eyes. “It’s not whether or not you make the mistake. It’s how you handle it.”

  “I—”

  She squeezes my shoulders. “Do you understand?”

  I blink at her and realize she heard Meredith. Maggie knows. “I can’t fix that,” I whisper, and to my horror, tears are spilling down my cheeks. “I can’t change what I did.”

  “You explain what happened. You tell him the truth. You’d be amazed what William Bailey can forgive.”

  “HEY THERE, Bailey, Carl York here. You’re one difficult man to get ahold of!”

  I frown into my cell phone. I’ve been sending his calls to voicemail, trying to forget I hired him. Carl doesn’t seem to want me to forget. “What’s up, Carl?”

  “I got that information you wanted. About that Brandon McHugh guy.” He whistles, long and low. “It’s a good ’un too.”

  “I don’t need it anymore.” Anything I need to know about Cally’s ex, she can tell me.

  “Oh boy, you want to know this. Trust me.”

  I close my eyes and rub my temple. The gallery is closed for the night, and I’m alone in my office preparing the last minute details for this weekend’s exhibition opening. I don’t want to deal with Carl. I want to go find Cally and take her home to my bed.

  “Listen,” Carl says, “it’s up to you, but you already paid me. Might as well get what you paid for, right? You don’t have to decide now. I’ll put it in the mail so you’ll have it all. I gave you an extra piece in there too—did a little digging on Cally Fisher. I was curious, so it’s on the house. In the meantime? I wouldn’t touch her with a ten foot pole….” He chuckles. “If you know what I’m saying. I know I won’t be getting any ‘massages’ from her again, that’s for sure.”

  I can practically hear his air quotes around the word massages. Fucker. I hang up before he can say more.

  My dad is going to have to face losing the house. My little run-in with Meredith tonight made that clear to me. The reality of the situation sucks, but I don’t see an alternative. The truth is, I won’t be around to bail Dad out, and he needs to learn to make better decisions.

  When I pull up to the cabin, my heart drops like a thousand shards of glass into my already aching stomach.

  Brandon McHugh is leaning against a black SUV. His long legs are crossed at the ankle as he flashes that charming smile in Drew’s direction.

  The way he’s looking at her makes me want to cut off his balls with a rusty razorblade.

  I hurry out of my car. “Drew, go inside and set the table for dinner.”

  Drew scowls. “I’m not hurting anything.”

  “Go!” I order.

  He watches her run into the house. My fifteen-year-old sister. And all at once, I both wish I had a gun and am glad I don’t. He turns his attention back to me and shakes his head slowly at my jeans and T-shirt. “Cally baby, I hate seeing you dressed like that.”

  “You’re early,” I say softly. “We said two months.”

  “I have business in Indianapolis and Chicago, so it appears your time’s up. Your sisters are settled, and I’m done waiting.”

  There’s no use arguing. I knew this could happen. “Okay.” I look over my shoulder to make sure the girls aren’t around to hear. “When do we go?”

  His jaw tightens. “I have business to attend to. I’ll come for you tomorrow night. But buy some new fucking clothes before then.” He sneers. “I can’t look at you in that shit. You look old.”

  I force a smile. “Of course.”

  “You should bring your sisters with you. They’re cute. I’ll take good care of them.”

  My stomach pitches. “Not an option,” I say steadily. “Dad has legal custody.”

  He grins. “Drew likes me.”

  “I have to get their dinner ready.” And buy a gun. I really have to buy a gun.

  Seven Years Ago

  The moonlight calls my name through the bedroom window, and the stars wink at me from the dark midnight sky. Stardust kisses my fingertips. My wishes float in the air like dandelion fluff, waiting for me to catch them. I try to concentrate, to focus so I can stretch to take one into the palm of my hand.

  He stops me before I can grab the wish. His hand on my arm, his erection at my back.

  His mouth is hot on my ear, and I think of William in a tuxedo. Good, beautiful William, waiting for me to get off the plane so he can take me to prom.

  I lost my virginity tonight, just like William and I planned. I wore a beautiful dress that clung to my curves. Sipped wine through the dinner at a fancy restaurant. Danced. An evening orchestrated for perfection. So much just as we planned, and nothing as we planned.

  Goosebumps race across my bare skin as his fingers skate up the back of my spine.

  “I wanted you from the first moment I saw you. I would have paid anything to have you.” Fantasy mingles with reality. His words are hot against my neck, and I close my eyes and imagine William is holding me, speaking to me. The way it was supposed to be. The drugs make that easier than it should be, but I hide inside the fantasy of me and William as this man slides his hand between my legs. I imagine William is holding me after prom, seducing me with his fingers until neither of us can resist, imagine it’s William preparing to slide into me again.

  “William,” I murmur.

  The man flips me to my back—suddenly, painfully, violently. He pins my hands on either side of my head, squeezing. “What did you call me?”

  I blink up at him, and my fantasy skitters away into the night.

  “What’s my name, sweetheart?” The man over me demands. “Tell me my name.”

  I try to catch my breath, reorient myself. I lock my gaze to the piercing hazel eyes of the man who bought and paid for the right to my body. The man who owns me now.

  “Say it.”

  “Brandon,” I whisper. “Brandon.”

  Present Day

  Brandon McHugh is outside Arlen Fisher’s cabin, leaning against a gleaming black Cadillac Escalade, smoking a cigarette. He gives me a disinterested once-over as I swing my leg off my bike.

  I went to The Wire to track down Cally after Carl York’s call, but the
girls told me she went home. Idiot that I am, I assumed that meant my house, but she wasn’t there.

  “Can I help you?” Brandon asks.

  “I’m here for Cally.”

  “She’s not available right now. Want me to tell her you stopped by?”

  Her car is parked right in front of me, but I’m not going to argue. I shove my hands into my pockets and glare at him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same question.”

  “Me? I’m her boyfriend.”

  He inclines his chin. “Hmm. That’s funny, because when Cally and I made plans for her to move back to Vegas with me, she didn’t say anything about a boyfriend.”

  His words are a punch in the gut, and I have to hold strong against my instinct to stagger back. “I’m sure there’s a lot she hasn’t told you.”

  “Oh, hell.” He chuckles. “I’m such a fan of irony.”

  I want to knock that grin right off his face. “Where is she?”

  He grunts, then cocks his head. “You’re not fucking my girl, are you?”

  “If you have to ask, is she really your girl? Why don’t you get out of here? If she wanted to be with you, she’d be living in Vegas.”

  He laughs again. “My wife and I were just figuring out the details of her return.”

  Wife. The word slams into me, and I spin on him, nails biting into the flesh of my palms. “Excuse me?”

  “Cally’s little sisters showed me everything you fixed up for their daddy inside, not to mention the outside. Well done. Can’t say I blame you. But she’s good. You have to give her that. Not even a couple of weeks away from having me to take care of her, she found you. I guess she knows what men will do for a taste of that pussy.”

  I don’t even make the decision before my arm is swinging. And soon I’m nothing but my anger and my fists and the sharp pain radiating from where his fist connects with my jaw. His fists land twice—a wrecking ball into my cheek and nose—before I manage a solid swing at his jaw. Then I lose track of where I’ve been hit and the number of punches we’ve thrown. All I care about is bringing this asshole down, and we’re wrapped up in each other, still going hard, when someone pulls me off him.

  I’m breathing hard and my vision’s blurry. My face feels wet, and I wipe my nose and find my hand covered with blood.

  I can faintly make out Cally’s dad standing over me, and she’s standing a few feet beyond him, hands on her hips. Between us is the asshole. Her husband. He hops to his feet and grins like it’s nothing.

  “There will be no violence on my property,” Arlen Fisher growls. He’s a quiet man, and that’s probably the most I’ve heard him speak at one time. I wonder if he’ll say more or threaten to call the cops, but he just nods, as if he has complete faith that his order will make it so, and then he turns and walks into his house.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Cally asks, and I don’t know if she’s talking to me or him or both of us. I don’t fucking care. I just want away from this. From her.

  I push myself off the ground, and pain starts settling in places I don’t remember getting hit. My side, my left bicep. My knuckles are screaming and the whole right side of my face is on fire.

  He slaps her ass, and even though I just promised myself I was getting out of here, I’m ready to go again.

  “Will, please,” she whispers before I can swing. “Don’t.” For a quietly whispered word, it’s wrapped in enough sadness that I know I’ve already lost her. He’s here for her, and she’s going with him. He’s the reason she told me she can’t stay. Can’t or won’t?

  Her father reappears and hands me a wet towel. I nod gratefully and press it against my bloody nose while Cally takes Brandon’s arm and walks him to his car.

  “I can’t believe she’d be with someone like that.”

  Her father is staring at me, and I realize I said the words out loud.

  “Don’t make the mistake of thinking that people don’t continue living their lives just because you’re not around,” he says softly. “Cally isn’t the same girl you were with seven years ago, and if you keep trying to pretend she is, you’re both going to get hurt.”

  I draw in a breath. Cally’s been trying to give me the same warning and I’ve ignored her, but suddenly it’s painfully obvious that she was right.

  I walk back to my bike and every step sends pain radiating through my ribs. Cally is standing at the SUV, using a washcloth to wipe blood from Brandon’s face. When she sees me watching, she steps back and drops her hands to her sides. Her eyes go sad as she looks me over.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  I swing my leg over my bike and pain ricochets through my core. “Fucking fabulous.” Then I start the engine and pull away. Because I can’t handle the idea of her seeing me like this. And because, for the first time, I finally understand what she was telling me. She’s not the same woman she once was, and we can’t have the relationship we once had.

  “Baby,” I whisper. “You’re hurting me.” William’s gone, Brandon’s pissed, and my world is shattered.

  Fury burns in Brandon’s eyes. “You little slut. You’ve been fucking that asshole.”

  I shake my head. “No,” I whisper. “It’s not what you think.” My purity, the idea that I had only ever been with him, was everything to Brandon. I don’t want him going after Will. I can’t have him hurting Will more than he already has.

  “You fucked him and now you expect me to take you back, to take care of you?” His hands slide from my shoulders to around my neck, resting there, waiting for an excuse. My dad is just inside the house and I say a silent prayer that he’s watching, that he’ll be able to protect me if Brandon snaps.

  “I didn’t sleep with him,” I say, slowly lifting my hands to his face. “I don’t want to be with anyone but you.” I have to calm him down before his hands tighten any more at my neck.

  “Don’t lie to me, Cally. Not about this.”

  “I wouldn’t.” The lie is a dangerous one. All he would have to do is ask around town and he’ll learn the truth. I’ve been careless, too determined to soak up every ounce of a life I knew I’d have to leave behind.

  “I saved you,” he whispers, his face going sad and his hands dropping from my neck to take mine. “You were days from being on the street and I saved you.”

  That’s his favorite story to tell. He’d hold me at night and repaint our ugly beginnings in the broad strokes of his twisted perception. As if he didn’t pay Anthony tens of thousands of dollars for the privilege of taking my virginity. As if he didn’t force me to marry him so he could control me even more than before. “I helped your family. How do you repay me? You don’t even visit me while I’m in prison.”

  “I—I didn’t think you wanted to see me,” I lie. “You were with her.” But I can tell he sees through my excuse now. He always has.

  “I told myself I would get you back as soon as I got out, but you tried to push me out of your life like I didn’t save you.” He has tears in his eyes. Actual, glistening tears. “You. Hurt. Me,” he growls, hands returning to my neck. “I thought you would need me again after your mom’s drug overdose. I was so sure that would bring you back to me.”

  “Brandon,” I gasp when his hands tighten. “You’re hurting me.”

  He stumbles back, his hands curling into fists. “I can’t look at you right now.” Then he climbs into his car and tears out of the drive, kicking up dust.

  I don’t know how long I’m standing there before I feel Gabby at my side. “I don’t like him,” she says. “He came to the apartment the morning Mom died. I never liked him.”

  I turn and blink at her. “Brandon was at the apartment the morning mom died?” Then Brandon’s words sink in. “I thought you would need me again after your mom’s drug overdose. I was so sure that would bring you back to me.”

  I never told Brandon mom died of a drug overdose. I told him she had a heart attack. Just like I told everyone else.

&n
bsp; “I was so sure that would bring you back to me.”

  Suddenly, everything is too clear. After years, Mom was doing better, even holding a steady job. Then suddenly a drug overdose? And how did Brandon know?

  I thought I could run away. I thought I could hide from Brandon. I thought leaving New Hope would be enough to protect the people I love. But the only way I can protect them is if I give Brandon what he wants. They won’t be safe until he has me or he’s in prison again.

  Will’s house is dark, but I’m sure he’s here. Where else is he going to go with his face torn up like that?

  The door’s locked, but he gave me a key last month when I was staying here with the girls. When I tried to give it back, he insisted I keep it. Now I’m glad.

  Evening sunlight slants through the windows and spills across the hardwood floors at the back of the house. I know I haven’t seen the last of Brandon. He’ll be back for me soon. He was pissed. Ugly, nasty angry, and I don’t have long. Not unless I want him to come after William. Brandon bought me years ago, and in his mind he still owns me.

  But my heart belongs to William.

  William’s kitchen and living room are empty. He’s not resting on the couch in the family room like I thought he might be. I follow the dark hall to the master bedroom and find his curtains drawn, making it darker in here than the rest of the house. In the dim light trickling in from the hallway, I spot him, sprawled on top of the comforter in nothing but his boxer briefs.

  I step into the room quietly. The soft and steady rise and fall of his chest gives me the courage to go closer so I can look at his face. His cheek is twice the size of the one opposite it, and the bruise there extends up to his eye, which is puffy and possibly swollen shut. His lip is cracked.

  I continue my study of his injuries and drop my gaze to his bandaged knuckles and the angry red bruise at his ribs.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I jump at his words. He’s awake but not moving. “I just came to check on you,” I say softly, lowering myself on the edge of the bed by his side. “I’ve been worried.”