Chapter 3
Three
HOPE
It’s time to pull myself together, or at least try to. I can’t stay cooped up in Knox’s apartment. With them.
I can’t live with their touch on my skin and yet, I need it as much as I need air to breathe.
I dab the damp beauty blender on my face, trying to hide the remainder of the bruises under the color corrector and foundation.
I can’t even remember the last time I wore this much makeup, but I’ll scare the shit out of Carpenter if he sees me like this.
The guys already told him I was in an accident, so he knows I’m hurt.
But there are boundaries. This isn’t the “fell down the stairs” or “drove into a tree” kind of hurt.
I can see the dents of my dad’s knuckles, his fingers bruised into my neck.
If I don’t hide it, he’ll know someone did this and I don’t want to answer that question. Never.
I need to keep my mouth shut about it all, because I can’t be na?ve in thinking that his body will never be found. I have to be ready for it; I have to create a story to tell. If I just could think of one.
“Are you ready to go?” Knox startles me with his question and tension builds in my chest.
“Almost,” I whisper.
“Take as long as you need,” he says and turns away from me.
Is it weird that I struggle with their compassion? I know them, they’re assholes. And somehow, I fear the assholes less than their fake kindness.
As if he heard the turmoil in my mind, he stands tall in the doorway. My brow rises in defiance and he tilts his head.
“We’re leaving, now,” he says, his tone harsher than before, but I see the doubt in his dark gaze. The wonder if he’s doing the right thing by daring me.
“I’m leaving when I’m done and I’m not done,” I tell him and the tension I had in my chest fades as strength accompanies the defiance.
His jaw ticks but the doubt remains. “Don’t make me pick you up, Hope. We’re leaving, come on.”
“You wouldn’t,” I snap too fast for my own good. I don’t want him to lift me up, I don’t want his touch.
I stammer with those thoughts as none leave. He takes two strides towards me, the doubt faded from his eyes.
“Knox, don’t,” I say and edge back, but his hands grip my waist and he tosses me over his shoulder. A scream rips from my throat and he grasps the back of my thighs.
Jaxon is with us before Knox can even leave the bathroom.
“Leave it,” Knox barks and Jaxon steps aside.
“Jaxon, tell him to put me down, please,” I beg but as we pass him, he just stares at me with a filthy grin on his lips.
“Oh sweetheart, you know how we like it when you fight,” he teases and my body slumps over Knox’s shoulder in defeat.
I wait for the panic to expand, but it simmers in the background. It doesn’t consume me like I expect it to.
“Jaxon, can you bring my little bag and that small sponge-looking thing?” I mumble in defeat as Dimitri snickers in the background.
Jaxon collects my stuff and I hear him humming under his breath. I groan as Knox keeps me on his shoulder, moving through the door, my raven-black hair swinging over his back.
“I can walk, you know,” I note and Knox grunts in return.
“Dimitri,” I call out, hoping he might save me from this.
“Nope, sweetheart, not today.” He looks down at his phone quicker than I would like and I whisper to Knox, “What’s up with him?”
The elevator door dings open and Knox puts me down inside. His hands glide over my body, and he tucks my hair behind my ears as if he’s trying to fix the mess he created by carrying me.
“Dimitri, he’s… just forget it.” He musters a smile and I narrow my eyes at him.
Jaxon steps inside and presses the button to head down. “You look gorgeous, babe.”
Dimitri snorts. “She looks like she got hit by a bus. No offense.” He flashes a smile over his phone.
“Well, let’s see how you look after being kidnapped, beaten, and…” God, I can’t even say it.
Jaxon shrugs his shoulders and adds, “You look better than last week.”
“Right,” I mumble. I want to be strong enough to push back, something to keep me from thinking too hard about the hollow under my eyes and the bruises that will never really fade, but small steps.
I snatch the little clutch from Jaxon just before the elevator comes to a stop. “I’ll try to make it better,” I sigh and search for a mirror. My eyes catch something new, a pocketknife. I peek up at Jaxon and he winks at me.
“It matches the knuckle buster,” he whispers and a faint smile draws up my lips.
“Thank you,” I mumble and snatch up the mirror from my clutch.
We walk out together, heading to Knox’s car. The sunlight is cruel, showing every flaw in my coverage, and I hate it. “I’ll fix it,” I whisper to myself as I stare at the small mirror in my hand.
Dimitri slides into the driver’s seat as Knox opens the back for me.
His hand covers the mirror. “You have nothing to worry about. They will all fade with time.”
I swallow through the tightness in my throat and nod. I slide into the backseat and expect Knox to follow but it’s Jaxon who snatches the spot. He slides in beside me, practically taking up the whole seat, his thigh heavy and warm against mine.
I roll my eyes but still, my lips twitch as a smile threatens.
Knox turns in the passenger seat and fixes his eyes on me, his stare a challenge. “If you don’t want to go, you tell me now. We’ll head back inside.”
I hate myself for hesitating. It’s not just Carpenter’s questions. It’s everything beyond the walls of Knox’s apartment. The world looks sharper these days, like if I step wrong, the ground under my feet will crumble.
“Let’s just get it over with,” I say, and my voice is disappointingly small.
“That’s our girl,” Jax mutters, and for a second his smile is almost gentle.
Their girl, right.
I stare up at Jax, and for the first time I see how tired he looks, how the lines in his brow are starting to cut deeper, how his jaw is always locked.
My eyes shift to the rearview mirror and Knox holds my gaze, and for that moment, I see it: the worry, the maybe-regret, the ache that’s so unfamiliar on him.
It makes my chest hurt and I twist the hem of my sleeve until the tears in the fabric go straight through to my skin.
“Seatbelt on,” Knox orders, and Jax groans but snaps his buckle, then reaches over me with a hand so solid and sure I don’t even flinch.
He does mine too, slow and deliberate, knuckles grazing the dip in my collarbone before the buckle clicks.
“There,” he says, but his hand lingers, thumb drawing a lazy circle on the fabric of my shirt.
I almost miss it when he finally lets go.
The car pulls away from the curb and no one speaks.
Dimitri drums his fingers on the wheel. Jax opens his window enough to smoke, and the wind whips his hair up and blows half the cigarette out before he can light it.
“Fuck this wind,” he mutters and I want to ask why he started smoking again.
I thought he quit in high school when my dad…
I sigh, not daring to think back, and let my head rest on the seat and stare out the window.
The drive isn’t too long and we’re about halfway when I meet Dimitri’s stare in the mirror. There’s something he’s keeping from me, some kind of angry energy. I can’t tell if it’s about me or about what happened.
If I don’t know then I can’t fix it. Some part of me wants to, even if we don’t have the best history, I don’t want to lose any of them. They’ve been trying so hard, taking such good care of me.
Jax proves that by helping me out of the car. Knox stays close as we walk into the facility. Even Dimitri holds the door for us, refusing to go far. His expression slips back into his normal calm as we walk into the workout room, but I still feel the tense air around him.
I nibble my raw bottom lip and try to avoid the gazes of the guys around me. They welcome Knox, Dimitri, and Jaxon back, wanting to loop them into everything they missed.
Knox plays the role well, that there’s nothing’s wrong, nothing happened, that I was in an accident and there have been a few sleepless night, but nothing else out of place. Jaxon’s on the quieter side but dismisses his own exhausted face with jokes. Dimitri is quiet.
His quiet is loud. So loud that it distracts me. I don’t notice anyone talking to me until Carpenter waves me into his office. He looks me over, studies my face, then clears his throat. “We have a therapist on the payroll, Hope.”
“Yeah, me,” I answer.
He shakes his head. “No, like a counselor. If you need to talk about anything. If you need more time…”
I know where he’s going, the words he doesn’t want to say.
I’m betting he can see through the bullshit excuse of me being in an accident.
I don’t know if the guys told him what kind of accident it was.
The bruises on my neck prove that it was definitely on purpose, but I’ve covered those so thoroughly, I wonder if Carpenter thinks I’m covering hickeys.
“As much as I appreciate that, I need to come back to work. I need to keep moving forward,” I say with strength I don’t feel. I need to be normal; the words don’t make it to my lips, which is a gift.
“Alright. Well, I’m not going to say no to having you back. We’ve had two twisted ankles, and one guy has a sprained thumb he’s pretending doesn’t exist. They listen to you more than me,” he says, putting on a smile. “Honestly, I’ve missed you.”
I smile, nod, and then get to work. I manage to keep my distance enough. I slide into my work role with practiced ease. Everything has steps that I can follow easily. Logic keeps all my emotions at bay. Which means I can just exist.
I’ve done this before and I’ll do it again.
Everything I say is perfectly tailored to the situation. It’s all medical jargon that I’ve learned to tone down for the guys. And after the first hour, I actually believe that I can do this. I can pick up where I left off, pretend that nothing has happened in the last few weeks.