15. Hope
CHAPTER 15
Hope
“I t’s not what it looks like,” I say sheepishly.
“It totally is!” Ivy pushes Hawke out of the way. “Who was that handsome, blue-eyed hottie? Damn, Hope, you’ve been keeping secrets!”
“Nothing’s happening between them—us,” Hawke and I snap at the same time, and we lock eyes.
Ivy’s smile twists dangerously, and she pushes out her bottom lip. “Awww, is Hawke playing big brother? You never warn men away from me.” She twirls a lock of her hair innocently.
“I need to warn the men about you,” he corrects.
“High praise from the king of manwhores,” she says with a smirk.
“That filthy mouth of yours is really going to get you into trouble someday,” he bites back, still pissed.
“So many empty promises,” she purrs.
Eww.
I blink once. Then twice. What the fuck is happening? “Stop!” I shout, coming between them with hands in both of their faces because I don’t know if they’re about to fight or fuck.
Ivy crosses her arms over her chest and looks at me expectantly. “Is everyone just pairing themselves off lately? Eli, Dutton, Billie, Ford. Like, what the fuck is happening? Have they polluted the water or something?”
“There’s nothing happening between us. I just… might’ve hooked up with him once, and we fell into old habits.”
Hawke’s eyes narrow. “You’ve fucked him?”
“Oh, come on, Hawke, she’s not an innocent angel. I knew there was a little she-devil in there.” Ivy turns to me and encourages, “I think you should definitely do it again.”
“No,” Hawke adamantly says, and he’s in his power pose—legs shoulder width apart, arms crossed, glaring down at me. It’s rather intimidating to see him when he’s like this. He may have respected my wishes so far, but this might change things.
Without going into detail, so Ivy doesn’t become further interested, I simply say, “It’s not something I intend to repeat.” I want to add I didn’t know who he was the first time, but those bits of information intrigue Ivy far too much. Her father, Will Walker, is well known for his tracking abilities. And the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. However, she’s never revealed to her parents how gifted she is. She pretended to lose interest in it in case she didn’t want to pursue the career path. But she does it on the side for money, among other freelance IT things.
“Besides, weren’t you two having fun? I think I might go home. Those tequila shots really went to my head,” I say. It’s true that the alcohol may be impairing my judgment, but really, these two don’t need me here. And I’d much rather curl up in my bed and read. I also want to try and process what the fuck just happened.
“Noooo. The night’s still young,” Ivy whines, grabbing for my hand. She looks over her shoulder at her reverse harem, and I know she wants to stay. And I’d never stop her.
I laugh and pat her hand. “I can get home on my own. You know I prefer it that way.”
“I’ll call Ford to pick you up,” Hawke offers, taking out his phone and calling his brother. I can’t help but roll my eyes. He was so excited for me to come out tonight, but I know he’s shifted into protector mode. And if that is the best way for me to get home, then I’m completely fine with it.
“You sure?” Ivy asks. “Don’t think you’re getting out of telling me all about Mr. Hottie, who left like a Cinderella story. I want all the gossip.”
I avoid showing any interest in the matter in case Hawke’s temple actually explodes.
Ford doesn’t take long to arrive. He never does. If someone needs help, he’s there the moment they call. Unless, of course, he’s working for Eli. But if Hawke’s out on the town for the night, it means they’re both off duty. Basically, Eli wanted alone time with his wife, Jewel.
And one of the perks of Ford never drinking alcohol is he naturally turns into the designated driver. It’s not common knowledge he doesn’t drink. Only the people in his closest circle and those observant enough to notice he’ll hold a drink but never consume it are aware of it.
When a bouncer helpfully escorts me outside safely because Lord forbid Hawke trust me to do it myself, I see Ford is waiting at the curb.
The bouncer opens the passenger door for me, and I slide into the car. Ford doesn’t generally have a need for high-end luxury, even though he has the money to have such a lifestyle. His car, however, is something he splurged on.
“A detective?” he questions, clicking his tongue. I throw myself into the seat dramatically. Of course, that’s the first thing out of his mouth.
“I’m so going to kill your brother.” It didn’t even take him ten minutes to spread the word.
“You should know better than to tell him anything,” he chides. And I do know better. Hawke has the biggest mouth. Most of the time, he accidentally lets things slip out because he doesn’t think before he speaks. But I know Ford is the only one he will tell about my predicament since I came to both of them for help.
“I know,” I grumble.
“He hasn’t told anyone else. Just me.”
“For now.” I bite my lip, then ask, “Do you think Dad and Auntie Anya will be mad?”
“Yes. So just don’t tell them,” he answers, and I turn my head to look at him. We’re such a close family, and Ford is one of the most loyal people I know. But even he has his secrets. I mean, he snuck around with Billie for over a year. I had no idea. Granted, I was away for most of it, but apparently, they weren’t exactly always discreet.
“I think you two are forgetting the fact that I asked you to train me with a gun so I can kill him.”
“I don’t know, Hope. I don’t usually make out with the people I’m planning to kill.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Eli did.”
He laughs, and I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him freely do so. It lightens my heart to see the shift in him that definitely came as a result of being with Billie. He seems different. He’s still intense but… happier. Is that what happens when people fall in love?
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be creating any examples from the boss’s love life. He’s not entirely all there.” He taps his temple as he says the words.
I arch my eyebrows. “Oh, so you’re aware your boss is a methodical, cruel, and unhinged man?”
He shifts his gaze to me. “Aren’t we all a little unhinged? And need I remind you that my mother is the most cunning of them all, and your father is, respectfully, deranged?”
I want to defend my father, but it’s not really even an insult, nor is it untrue. My father is the very best version of himself in our home. But outside that sanctuary, there’s a reason why people fear him. The idea of him ever finding out about Braxton shoots fear through my veins.
Because he’s my kill. That’s the only reason. I immediately try to convince myself.
“Just don’t tell them. Besides, you don’t plan on anything else happening with him, right?” Ford’s previous humor is long forgotten. His dark gaze drifts from the road to me again.
“Right,” I say, and I can tell he’s not convinced. Even I’m not convinced. Do I plan for something to happen? I don’t know. But I do love the way he kisses me. And how would he be now that we’re older and I’m not a virgin?
Would it be just as explosive and painful as that night?
A pounding in my core ignites, and I cross my legs uncomfortably.
Shit .
I should not be thinking about that.
At all.
Ford pulls into my driveway and parks in front of the house. “Are you going to come in?” I ask.
“No, I was sketching a new design when you called. I’m going to go back to that.”
Another thing I like about Ford is that, much like me, he’s a bit of a loner. Instead of partying, he’d much rather be at home with his sketches for new tattoo designs.
“Thank you for the lift,” I say, getting out of the car.
“Be careful,” he says, and his warning tone makes me stare at him over my shoulder. “I know it’s exciting when you think you’re in control of a situation. I know the game well. But sometimes, it can also catch us off guard and drown us. If the waters get too deep, let us know, and we’ll deal with this for you.”
A genuine smile spreads across my lips. I know I’m protected. Ford’s projecting his own recent miscalculation that almost cost him and Billie their lives. I don’t think I’m clever than him, and I’m slightly out of my comfort zone, but that’s what makes messing with the detective so thrilling. But I won’t ignore Ford’s warning.
“Thank you, Ford. You and Hawke will be the first people I call. Please don’t tell Billie about this.”
“About what?” he asks with a grin.
I close the door and head to the house, a far deeper sense of dread filling my veins. I wasn’t expecting to come home so early. So, as I’ve already faced down one demon tonight, I suppose I should manage another one.
My mother’s home and I promised myself I’d tell my parents I want to drop out of college. I don’t know how they’ll react. I don’t think they’ll be too disappointed, but it doesn’t make it any less nerve-racking.
I find my parents in the living room, my mother’s head in my father’s lap, him stroking her hair, his gloves removed, and on the arm of the sofa. They seem to be watching some singer on the TV. I know it’s actually my mother who’s watching; my father simply enjoys watching her.
It’s fascinating that someone like him could find love, especially with someone as incredible as my mother. It reminds me that love happens in unpredictable ways. Their two worlds surely should’ve never crossed.
They both look up when I step into the living room.
“You’re back,” Mom says excitedly and waves me over. She sits up but doesn’t leave my father’s embrace.
“At a reasonable time, too,” Dad adds.
My mother slaps his shoulder. “Please. Midnight is early,” she says to him, then she turns back to me. “At least you went out. Was it fun?” she asks, making room for me on the couch. She embraces me, and it’s nice when we can have moments like this. We’re always so busy, our careers leaving us little time to be together. I was always inspired by my mother’s work ethic, and so I cherish the moments when we can be a normal family like this, knowing it won’t last forever.
When I’m overwhelmed or have too much going on, I know my safe place is right here with them. I want to tell them about Braxton, but I know if I do, my father wouldn’t waste any time finding him and killing him without a second thought. And I do want Braxton dead, but I want to do it on my own terms. He’s been toying with me for the last few weeks, so I feel it’s only fair that I toy back.
I’ve kept my morbid curiosity about the dead from them, so surely, I can keep this a secret, too.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Mom asks, angling her head.
“Did someone touch you tonight?” Dad grits.
“No, Dad. And if they did, you and I certainly wouldn’t be having a discussion about it.”
My mother laughs as he shoots me an unimpressed look. I cross my legs on the sofa as I turn to face them.
“I do, however, have news for you,” I announce.
They seem worried, and I let out an exasperated breath.
“I think I want to drop out of college.”
Silence fills the room. Then my father reaches for his phone, asking, “Should I make the arrangements now?”
“No, Dad. I can do that myself. Aren’t you a little disappointed or something?”
My mother reaches out for my hand. “Sweetie, we would never be disappointed in you. You have excelled at so many things already at your young age. To be honest, we were hoping you might make some changes for yourself. We don’t ever want you thinking you have to do anything to impress us. We love you. If anything, you can afford to loosen up a little.”
I open my mouth to speak but snap it shut again.
“But not too loose,” Dad is quick to add.
My mother rolls her eyes. “What he means to say is, you’re only twenty-two, and we are so proud of you and you’ve exemplified to yourself already that if you put your mind to anything, you can achieve it. But sometimes having fun is part of the process, too.”
I always find it ironic when my parents offer me a work-life balance discussion when they’re the worst choices to ever give this speech to someone. But it does fill me with relief. I almost feel like I’ve gotten off too easily. But perhaps my studies really have become irrelevant. I went to college for the experience, but now it just feels like it’s hindering my growth as an artist. And maybe I want to make time for other things.
Immediately, crystal-blue eyes gazing up at me from the bottom of a staircase come to mind, and I push Braxton out of my thoughts. I’m not making time for him, specifically, but maybe I can explore the dating thing. Maybe I can ask Ivy to organize a double date. Then again, I heard that a double date went tragically wrong with her and Billie.
I don’t even know if I want these things. What I do know is I’ve lived in my routine for so long now, I need something more. Something that challenges me. Killing a detective seems like a very intense shift in direction, but I’m not at all discouraged by it.
“Thank you.” I hug them both and press a kiss on both of their cheeks.
“You don’t need a piece of paper to tell you how incredible you are,” Mom says.
“We’re proud of all of your accolades already,” Dad is quick to say.
I roll my eyes. I really lucked out with the best parents in the world. But it’s only a matter of time before I’ll have to fly the nest, so to speak. And I feel a crackle of energy around me. I can tell something big is about to happen, and it excites me as much as it scares me.
“I’m going to go finish reading my book now,” I tell them, then make my way to my bedroom. After I shower, snuggle into my bed, and light a candle, I quickly check my burner phone in my top drawer.
I have a new message. It’s a photo of a bald man who appears to have had his neck broken. I think of the way I’ll be able to shape the glass, highlighting the twisted neck. But my eyebrows furrow as something occurs to me. I think I saw this man at the club tonight. Didn’t I? Or maybe it’s my imagination.
I’ve specially requested the homicides that are put across Braxton’s desk to be sent to me. So does this mean they think it’s the same killer?