by Dee Palmer
“I will. I’m sorry, I just haven’t been able to think of anything or anyone else.”
“I understand.”
Storm parks next to a small parade of shops about half a mile from Hope’s apartment.
“Why have you stopped?”
“I thought we might need supplies if we’re camping out tonight.”
“Camping out?”
“Staking out, whatever you call it. If we’re going to be sitting outside Hope’s all night, I’m going to need food.”
“Storm, we don’t have to do that.” I’m warmed to the bone by the insightful gesture.
“Are you going to be able to think about anything else?”
“Probably not.”
“Then go and buy some food, chips and fish or a burger is fine.” She grins and urges me out of the car, shoving my shoulder until I’m out of her reach and standing on the pavement.
“It’s fish and chips, not chips and fish.” Leaning my head back through the gap to correct her English, I find myself smiling when she rolls her eyes. I didn’t realise how much I needed someone to share this with. I’d rather it was Hope, but I am glad my sister is here.
“Right, because that’s what’s important, my grasp of the English language.”
“Thank you, sis.”
“I get it, Jørgen. It’s why I came. I needed to see you, I was worried.”
“And now?”
“I’m still worried, but if I know my brother at all, I know you’ll fix this.”
“I hope you’re right. I can’t begin to entertain the thought of losing her; she’s my forever.” Storm’s eyes fill with tears, and I shut the door before they start to fall. I’m not nearly strong enough to handle us both breaking.
Present Day
“SHIT!” HOPE WINCES, SCREWING HER face in an amusing twist, only no one is laughing, least of all me.
“What do you mean shit? You’re married?” My jaw is on the floor, and my head is comically turning from Hope to the man currently blocking the doorway.
“Sort of.” She shrugs, and can’t hold eye contact with me for even a second before she looks away.
“What do you mean ‘sort of’? That’s like saying you’re a little bit pregnant. You either are married, or you’re not.” The tempered pitch in my voice rises with each word.
“She is,” the man at the door asserts. His strong, deep voice commands the attention of the room.
“Are you sure about that? Because the last time I saw you, you had nothing but regret written all over your stupid, handsome face,” Hope responds, wrapping her arms tight around her tummy. Her confidence is edged with hurt. Her voice catches with a trace of a wobble when she curses under her breath about not meaning to say handsome. He is though, very.
“I had shock on my face, Hope, some hurt too, but never regret.” He steps into the house and strides over to Hope.
“The way you looked at me, I never thought I could feel so—” Her voice fails her and her knees buckle.
“Does it in any way resemble how I’m looking at you now?” He holds the tops of her arms, and it looks to be the only thing keeping her upright. He lowers his head until Hope is looking into his eyes.
“No, but—”
“You have to forgive me, Hope. I love you, you are it for me, too.” He brushes her cheek with his hand, wiping some stray tears, and I’m stunned mute when she smiles and leans into his touch. They don’t speak for several long seconds. I look over to Tug at the door and Charge beside me. They are as clueless as their expressions, shrugging and non-verbally urging me to interrupt the silent standoff.
“Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?” I blurt. The intimate moment Hope and her husband are clearly sharing is unaffected, and when I get zero reaction, I decide to specifically direct the clipped question. “Hope, tell me what’s going on?”
“I made a mistake.” She exhales her answer, staring into the man’s eyes like they are the only two people in the room, no, like they are the only people on the planet. I’m so confused.
“Damn right you made a mistake.” He crushes the tiny distance between them, crashing mouths together with a deep, passionate kiss, and when he’s finished, even I’m a little breathless. He presses his forehead to hers and speaks, relief flooding his words. “You shouldn’t have run away. You hadn’t done anything wrong, and when I very quickly realised I was to blame, that my reaction was unforgivable, you were gone. All my calls went straight to answerphone. There was no credit card trail to follow, no one from your work knew anything, and there was nothing on any social media site. You had disappeared off the face of the earth. Do you know how fucking worried I’ve been, Hope?”
“That’s not exactly what I meant.” She smiles against his lips.
“Then what?”
“I shouldn’t have run. I know that, and I’m sorry I worried you, but the mistake I made was coming here.” She straightens and faces me, her hands nervously clasped in front of her. Her husband unclasps the grip and takes one of her hands, threading his fingers with hers and standing so there is no distance between them. They are side by side facing me, and I don’t know what to think. I couldn’t speak if I wanted to, so I let her have her say. “I deeply regret not telling you the truth, Finn, and most of all, I regret that Pink has feelings for me when I never meant for that to happen.”
“Oh, really?” I can’t help the vitriol in my tone. The confusion has evaporated. The warm feelings I felt witnessing Hope with a man she clearly loves are in smithereens. This is un-fucking-real. “Why, Hope? Why couldn’t you just tell me the fucking truth? I could’ve warned him. You think I would’ve let you anywhere near him if I thought you were on the fucking rebound…if you’d have told me that you were married?” I choke back the tears as they bubble at the back of my throat. I won’t cry; I’m too fucking mad.
“I know, I know! I didn’t think. He was just really good to talk to, and he listened, you know?” She steps forward, but wisely stops herself, her pleading justification falling on my deaf ears.
“Yes, I fucking know! He’s a good man, and you used him.” My fists are clenched, and I shake free of Charge trying to take hold of me. I fire him a warning look.
“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” She steps back, and her husband pulls her to his chest, wrapping a protective arm across her body. I see red and Pink.
“Well, you did, you hurt me, and more importantly, you hurt someone I love, for no fucking reason. You could’ve just told me, Hope. It’s not like you fucking murdered someone, and you know what? Even if you had, I’d have helped you bury the fucking body.” I suck in sharp, deep breaths in a fruitless effort to calm myself. I don’t ever remember being this angry. My jaw feels like it’s about to shatter from the tension. There’s too much rage contained in my five foot six frame, and I’m done holding back. Furious, I break, not screaming like a banshee in her face, but with controlled menace and absolute truth, I explain. “I am never going to forgive you for this.”
“I never liked Pink like that.” She snaps back at me, and I’m choked speechless when I see him. His eyes meet mine, and the look on his face destroys me right before he turns and walks back out of the door he was standing in, for how long, I can only guess.
“Pink! Pink, no!” My face hits hard muscle as Charge steps in front of me, chasing after Pink. He captures my arms preventing me from sidestepping around him.
“Let him go, angel. He’ll need some time.” His warning ricochets off me, and shaking my head, I struggle free of his iron strong hold.
“He needs me.” I sob, a flood of tears bursting onto my cheeks. Charge captures me once more, a firm yet softer hold, and he waits until I am ready to look into his eyes before he speaks.
“You have to consider, angel.” His careful choice of words and deliberate delivery is effective, calming me enough to take in what he’s saying. “Right at this moment that might not be the case. Let him be, and he’ll come back when he’s ready.�
�� Charge’s passive tone does nothing to penetrate the panic and sorrow consuming me.
“Oh, god, what have I done?”
“Angel, this isn’t your fault.” Charge is firm, and he repeats, “This is not your fault.”
I let out a resigned breath. Even if I don’t think that’s true, I can at the very least rationalise that Pink probably does need some space.
“Finn, I never meant for any of this to happen.” Hope’s heartfelt declaration, however, bypasses my rational mind and unleashes the Furies, which have been begging to take the helm.
“Bullshit! He told me you two talked about love and the future, about finding ‘the one’ and finally believing in Happily Evers all the time when you two were alone.” I am screaming now, every sentence a little more pitched and hysterical. “You talked that shit, knowing what I had told you about the five of us, our changes, and our future.” I shuck out of Charge’s hold and steady myself, squaring up across the room. “You talked that shit, and it never once crossed your mind he might think you were talking about him?”
“But I wasn’t talking about him. It’s not my fault Pink got the wrong end of the stick.” She fires back, and I lunge across the room.
“I’m going to take that stick, and—”
“Finn, calm down.” Her eyes widen with worry as I hurtle toward her. Swinging my arm back and planting my feet firmly on the floor, I strike, cracking a clenched fist against her cheek. Her head snaps back, and before I can rally another well-deserved punch, I am lifted clear off the ground by her man.
“No, no!” I’m struggling and grunt out a painful breath, when he drops me onto his shoulder. He clasps his steely grip across the backs of my thighs, preventing any further movement in my lower half. I’m incandescent with rage, and I am also instantly regretting pummelling his rock-hard back with my fists, as my hand is still throbbing like a motherfucker from hitting Hope’s bony face.
“Shit.” Hope mutters, and I twist round to see her rubbing the red mark blazing across one side of her face. Charge and Tug are surging forward, dark scowls fixed on their faces.
“Step back.” Hope’s husband warns, holding up one hand, halting my men, but wisely lowers my feet back to the floor as he speaks. Charge pulls me into his arms and slides me slightly behind him while he and Tug step forward like a human shield. My fists are still curled tight, and despite the sweet and incredibly sexy gesture, their protection won’t help. I hurt from the inside.
“I’m not intending to fight here, but I won’t let her hit my wife again. Understand?” Hope’s husband faces up to Charge, and they are nearly nose-to-nose. You could cut the testosterone with a knife.
“You better leave.” Tug says, since Charge is giving the silent death glare, and his jaw looks set to explode with tension.
“Come on, Jørgen, let’s go.” Hope takes Jørgen’s hand and leads him toward the door, furtively looking over to me as she retreats. They step away; he keeps their backs to the door the whole time, only turning when they reach it.
“Finn, I’m so sorry.” Glassy eyes meet mine, and I can see that she is. I look right through her as a numb cloud settles over my raw senses.
What she doesn’t realise is, I don’t care.
FINN’S FRONT DOOR CLOSES, AND my heart sinks. This can’t be happening. Jørgen squeezes my hand and tugs me away from the house. My body is on autopilot as he guides me down the steps and over to his sleek S-Class Mercedes. He opens the door, his hand hovering just above my head to prevent me knocking myself unconscious as I lower myself into the front passenger seat. I’m numb and dazed, so much so that I allow him to buckle me in like a child. My head is a mess, an emotional blender on high speed, where the lid has just been removed. I can’t even begin to identify how I feel, from the mix of feelings plastering every surface of my life.
The surge of the powerful engine pins me to the seat, and I’m overwhelmed by the gut-wrenching pain in the pit of my stomach. I glance in the side mirror only to close my eyes when I vividly picture the devastation I have caused my best friend. I’m doubly ashamed when I get a flash of pure joy from feeling Jørgen’s fingers thread through mine. I have no right to feel anything remotely good, and I’m angry with myself for allowing even that tiny respite. Besides, I’m still fucking furious with my husband, and he does not deserve to get off so lightly.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” I snatch my hand away and shift as far away as the sport seat will allow. It’s not much, but the inference is significant.
“Excuse me?” He accelerates out of a tight corner, and my attempt to create distance is thwarted, as I slide even closer to him with the G-force of the turn.
The instant the pressure on my body eases, I shuffle back. Turning to face him, I also brace my hand on the door and dashboard to prevent a repeat outcome from any other motoring manoeuvre he may have planned. “Did I stutter? I said, don’t touch me.”
“But you held my hand back there.”
“I was distracted enough by you showing up that I momentarily forgot what an arsehole you are. And now I’ve remembered. You can just drop me at the next rest stop. I’ll make my own way from here.” I point to the gas station we have just sped past.
“You have your passport? Money? A change of clothes?” The amused quirk of his lips fuels my fire.
“I’ll survive. I survived long before you Mr. ‘my shit doesn’t stink, I’m so perfect that I’ve never made a mistake in my life’, and I’ll survive long after you.” Air quotes are unnecessary given the sarcasm dripping from my tone like caustic tar.
“I made one mistake, Hope, and I have no intention of making another. I am not stopping the car.”
“Then I’ll just get out whilst it’s moving.” I cross my arms like a petulant child.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Really?” I know I am, yet I can’t stop myself. I reach for the handle, and the car’s alarms go haywire when I disable the lock and open the door a fraction. It slams shut with the force of Jørgen’s evasive manoeuvre.
“Hope, what the fuck!” He swerves the car onto the side of the road, skidding on the gravel in an effort to stop the car before I can fully open the door again and make good my threat. He kills the engine, and I’m already storming away from the vehicle with my arm stretched and my thumb held high.
“Hope!” There’s no evidence of his famous restraint when he yells my name. The booming voice echoes out across the deserted stretch of road. My tummy knots with each step I take away from him. I don’t want to run, again. I want him, and I wish that didn’t hurt so much. I was so damn happy to see him at the door, it almost took away the pain of the cluster-fuck of a situation I’d gotten myself into with Finn. Almost.
He yells again, and it takes every ounce of stubbornness I have to not turn and run right back into his arms. I’ve never been such a mess: angry, betrayed, hopeless, alone, and still desperately in love. I don’t know what to do, so I push myself to keep walking.
The heavy footsteps behind me seem to eat the distance in no time, and before I get the chance to really run, Jørgen is towering in front of me, kicking up a swirl of dust, blocking my way and blinding me. He takes my shoulders to stop me from side-stepping around him and waits until the dust settles before speaking. My heart feels like a jackhammer in my chest, and I blame the grit in my eyes for the tears, when I do manage to focus on his tortured face. He’s so damn handsome.
“I made a mistake, Hope, but I’m not letting you go again. You have to understand, you’re mine, and I’m yours, forever,” he pleads, and I like how it sounds like a statement of fact, mine. “We’ll work through this. We may fight, but we don’t run. We face our problems, together.”
“You hurt me.” Out of the turmoil raging inside me, this is the one thing I never thought he would do.
“I know.”
“I promised myself I would never let a man hurt me, not since my dad.”
“I know, and I promise I won’t ever do tha
t again.” He strokes the side of my face with the back of his fingers, tentative and unsure.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I’ll keep this one.” He fixes me with his deep blue eyes.
“You scare me, Jørgen.” It’s an understatement of biblical proportions, because in truth I am terrified by the way he makes me feel both safe and utterly vulnerable in equal measure.
“I do? Why?”
“Because I love you, and that gives you a power over me.”
“Not over, with. You have the same power over me, Hope.”
“The difference being, you’ve done this before.”
“I’ve never done this before with someone like you, and Hope…” He steps flush to me, his hard body radiating heat, desire, and so much more, I can feel it in my soul. The intensity of his gaze sears right through me. “I’ve never felt this before.” His hand grasps the back of my neck, and he crushes his lips to mine, a heart-stealing, proprietary kiss I feel in every fibre of my body. When he breaks this kiss, I’ve forgotten everything, what day it is, what country I’m in, even my name, let alone why I was walking along the side of the highway in the first place.
“You have some making up to do, mister.” I’m breathless and smiling.
“Then I better get you to my hotel.” He lifts me into his arms and strides confidently back to the car. My head may be a mess, and my emotions all over the place, but one thing I feel in my bones: In his arms feels a lot like home.
I HEAR THE WHEELS SPIN as Hope’s husband’s car pulls away on the drive, and I hit the ground running. Bursting out of the back door of the house, I race flat out toward the stables. I ignore the shouts and yells to stop them from echoing in my ears.
I have to find him. I have to make sure he’s okay.
Heavy footfalls thunder behind me, and with a quick glance, I can see Toxic has now joined Charge and Tug, chasing down their crazy wife. They skid to a halt, fold their arms, and cautiously watch as I frantically search the buildings.
