Chapter 27 Heath
HEATH
Hope is breaking inside. Not just breaking. She is fucking losing herself.
I see the haunted look in her eyes—filled with a wild mix of emotions. Sadness, humiliation and shame.
And it hurts me to see her like this.
She has this pain inside of her that is eating her alive but I can’t do anything about it.
I hear a door creak open nearby, followed by footsteps thumping through the quiet hallway just outside—the one that connects the garage to the house.
My parents are awake. From the dozen calls that Mom made, it's evident that she waited for when she saw me rushing out earlier. I didn’t have time to tell her to not wait for me—not that it matters since she waits for me anyway.
I swivel my head just in time to see my parents standing by the glass doors wearing confused expressions on their faces.
Hope’s back is towards them—for which I’m glad. I don’t want them to see her right now. BecauseI knows she is barely keeping it together right now. The last she needs is an interrogation.
Mom’s distressed gaze stays on us, while Dad frowns, studying me in detail.
“Is there someone behind us?” Hope asks shakily.
She attempts to turn her head but I prevent her from doing so. “Derek is passing by.”
I knew saying his name wouldn’t affect her as much as knowing it’s my parents who are glued to their spots and refuse to move away.
Much to my dismay, Hope doesn’t believe me. “Why is he staring? I can feel his stare on my back.”
I let out a groan. “It’s my parents.”
Her eyes widen and she looks like she’s about to have another panic attack.
For fuck’s sake.
I don’t want that.
One was enough to make me spiral.
“It’s okay. I’ll take care of them.” I assure her. “Give me a second.”
“No! Don’t leave me.” She grips my arm with a firm grip as tears well up in her eyes again. Eyes that I love so much. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Rose—”
A few tears fall and my heart twists painfully inside my chest.
Without a word, I tuck her in my arms and put my chin on the top of my head.
She’s incredibly sensitive tonight. I’ve seen her panic before, but this is different. She’s in so much pain, it is triggering her anxiety.
Bending down, I slide one arm beneath her knees and the other around her waist, then gently lift her into my arms, pulling her closer to me. Her arms loop around my neck and her face burrows into the crook of my neck, making it impossible for me to read her.
She isn’t making noises, but she is crying.
Her tears dampen my black hoodie.
I walk towards the glass doors, not making eye contact with my parents who look shocked. My mom has her mouth cupped by her hand and eyes wide while Dad is staring hard with questions burning in his gaze. It’s a relief that they don’t say anything as I move past them.
Hope shakes terribly in my arms as if she knows they are a few steps away from us.
Picking up pace, I hurry down the hallways and take the stairs that lead up to my room. Once we’re inside, I lock the door and set her down on my bed. She doesn’t let go of me.
So, I sit down with her on my lap and remove her shoes so she can slip under the duvet.
She still doesn’t move.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, lifting her chin.
This time she doesn’t hesistate.
“I don’t want to think what your parents are thinking, but I can’t stop thinking about it,” she tells me in a quiet voice. “What will I tell them if they ask me why I’m here?”
“Tell them I want you here.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“I can’t stay away from you.”
She looks up at me and the sight of her shoots an arrow right through my heart.
Her eyes are puffy and red-rimmed and her cheeks are flushed with streaks of tears.
She resembles a mess—pulled apart piece by piece, barely holding it together.
She still looks beautiful. But in a sad, kinda way that tugs the heartstrings of my fucking heart.
Just like that my mood switches and my body turns stone.
“What the fuck happened tonight, Rose?” My tone is hard, laced with anger that I can hardly keep inside.
“A lot,” she whispers.
My muscles lock in tension. She doesn’t look hurt, but I know her shitty father is the reason for her pain.
Taking a deep breath, she tells me everything. The things her father said makes me want to kill him, but then she tells me about her mother and how she practically shoved her out of the house in the middle of the night with no care.
He said I’m a mistake.
They were drunk.
He wanted to get rid of me.
After hearing those words, I feel sick to my stomach. My insides have fused together in a knot. With every twist and turn, nausea stirs, and I feel like my dinner is going to come up any second.
“They didn’t want me.” She sobs. “I was a mistake. Something that wasn’t supposed to happen.”
I hold her close to me. “You’re not a mistake.”
She shakes her head, adamant about it.“He said it. And he sounded so sure.”
“Well, he is fucking wrong, so don’t listen to him.”
She sniffles. “His words. His voice. I can’t stop listening to it. It’s playing in my head.”
“Rose,” I cup her face in my hands. The look she wears splinters my lungs, making it hard to breathe. “You are not a fucking mistake.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because you’re perfect.”
She looks unconvinced. “You’re only saying this because you like me.”
No, I’m saying this because I love you.
Of course I can’t say that to her.
I rub her cheeks with the pad of my thumbs. A slow and gentle back and forth motion. “I’m saying this because I know you.”
Her lower lip wobbles as she throws her arms around my neck and hugs me.
I return her hug, pulling her closer to me.
Lightning spills into the room followed by a deafening crack of thunder. The rain gets harder and louder outside, but the room is still and silent.
“You should get some sleep.” I run my palm down her back, calming her down.
“I’m not sleepy,” she mumbles into my shoulder.
“Have you had dinner?”
“No, but I’m not hungry—”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m getting you something to eat.”
With a sigh, she nods. Untangling her arms from around my neck, she gets off me and climbs into my bed. She faces the window and stares at the storm raging beyond the glass. It is terrifying to know that if she didn’t have me, she’d be alone and lost in such weather.
“Thank you for letting me stay here,” she says.
“You don’t need to thank me, Rose.” With that, I stand up and press a kiss on her head. “I’ve got you.”
Mom and Dad are in the living room engrossed in a conversation as I walk past them into the kitchen. I grab a plate and start pulling it up with food when they appear in the doorway. It’s Mom who steps forward and stands beside me.
“Heath, what is going on?” Her tone is laced with worry.
“Nothing,” I mutter as I speed up my movements to escape as fast as I can. The last thing I want is an interrogation.
“Why is Hope here?” she asks.
“Her parents are out of town and she was alone so I asked her to stay with me.” The lie rolls off my tongue effortlessly. I just hope she believes me doesn’t prods me for details.
Of course I thought wrong.
“But she was shaking and crying,” she adds.
“There was a power shutdown in her area and it got her scared.” Another smooth lie.
Dad’s watchful gaze burns a hole in the side of my head. Questions brimming under the surface that I’m sure he wants to ask, but is waiting for Mom to finish.
Quickly, I place the plate in the microwave and lean against the counter in wait, avoiding eye contact with my parents at all costs.
Mom approaches and stands in front of me. “I know something is wrong,” she says softly.
My gaze lifts and meets hers. The second it does, I feel like she can see right through me. Despite my hatred and resentment, and the thick walls I’ve built between us, we are blood. I’m connected to her.
“Nothing is wrong,” I say confidently.
She goes quiet as doubt lingers in her eyes.
Dad steps behind Mom and puts his hand on her shoulder in reassurance. His eyes cut to me. “We know she’s the reason you got arrested.”
Color drains from my face.
My mind goes entirely blank.
Reaching behind me, I hold the marble counter with a firm grip to steady myself.
For fuck’s sake. My parents were the last people I wanted to know.
The non-serious look in his eyes tells me that he isn’t lying. He knows what happened. Somehow, he has the details.
But how?
With a heavy gulp, I try to wet my parched throat.
“What the fuck do you mean?” My tone is low and dark as it slices through the veil of tension suspended between us.
“She is the reason—”
“You’re wrong. She is not the reason.” I grit out.
The instinct to protect her comes naturally. My body reacts before my mind and heart can decide.
“You don’t need to lie to us.”
“I’m not.”
Dad’s eyes soften for a second. “Why don’t you tell us what is really going on?”
“We know you’re in trouble,” Mom chirps in.
There is a lot of ‘we’ going on as if they have talked about me for long hours, debating arguments to understand why I was locked up in a cell for beating up a stranger. Almost as if they care about me.
Mom moves closer to me. “We can help you.”
I scoff. “I don’t need your help.”
Her face crumples, the glimmer of light vanishing from her eyes.
Looking at Dad, I say, “And nothing is going on. Whoever gave you this information, they are fucking wrong.”
Dad sighs heavily. “Then why don’t you tell us what happened?”
“I beat up a man because he pissed me off,” I reply.
At least, that bit isn’t a lie. Hope’s dad made me so angry that I didn’t hesitate to climb over him and hit him like a madman.
I regret that I didn’t do some serious damage.
Like break his hand or fingers so that he couldn’t touch my girlfriend ever again.
Maybe I should have hurt his tongue so that he wouldn’t spew bullshit to her that makes her feel small and worthless.
Because his fucking words hurt her more than his hits ever did.
Dad arches an eyebrow. “A man who is the father of your girlfriend.”
My blood goes icily cold, the chills spreading in every corner of my body.
Tension wraps around my body like steel chains, tightening with every rugged, fast breath that I inhale. My muscles ache because of how tightly wound up they are, my jaw locked in its place, and the centre of my chest burns with rage.
My fists shake, the tremors impossible to control. “What did you say?”
His lips press together. “We know what happened, son.”
Anger flares through me as I push off the counter and straighten. “You don’t know anything.”
He nods. “I did some research and found out everything.”
My jaw goes slack. “You hired someone to investigate me?”
He shakes his head. “I hired someone to find out what happened that got you into trouble.”
“And that sounds right to you? To get into my business?” I snap, heat surging through my veins.
“It isn’t his fault.” Mom quickly jumps in. “It is mine. He looked into it because I was worried.”
“Not just you, Mia Cara,” Dad says just as his gray eyes lock on me. “I am worried, too.”
Those words hang in the thick smoke of tension that has always been there when we are in the same room. Over the years, it has become darker and denser, clouding the view completely so that we don’t see each other.
The coldness in his eyes melts away. “Getting that call from your friend and hearing that you were locked up nearly gave me a heart attack. I left the meeting in the middle, one I had worked for two years, got home and told your mother. We packed nothing. Just grabbed important stuff and got on the plane.”
“I didn’t ask you to come,” I grumble.
“I’m glad you didn’t,” he counter backs. “Because it’s not something that you should ask for. It’s our responsibility to be there for you.”
I grind my molars so tightly, I feel like I’ll break them.
The fact I don’t have a fucking answer makes me furious. Because what he just said made my chest hurt. It made me realize that perhaps they give a fuck about me—something I didn’t care about.
“She is here because something happened at home,” Mom says sorrowfully. “And you brought her here to keep her safe.”
I glare at her, hating how quickly she put it altogether—it wasn’t hard, considering they know why I was at the police station.
The microwave pings cutting through the silence in the room, but I don’t move.
Mom and I stare at each other for a long moment.
Finally, I look away.
“Bring her down.” Her voice carries a command.
“What?” I frown.
“We need to send her back home.”
I frown harder. “What the fuck?”
“Your mother is right.” Dad speaks in a curt tone.
I glare at both of them. “I’m not sending her back.”
“You need to.” Dad asserts.
“Her parents must be worried about her,” Mom says.
A scoff leaves past my lips. “It’s her mother who kicked her out.”
Mom lets out a loud gasp, her hand reaching for the island to steady her. Dad quickly reaches for her and wraps his arm around her.
“Wh-what?” She whispers.
I run a hand through my hair, frustration making me annoyed. “She has nowhere to go so I brought her here.” Narrowing my eyes at her I add, “And she isn’t going back. Especially not tonight.”
“How could they do this to her?” she asks. “What is going on?”
I press my lips together in silence. I’ve already said enough.
Squeezing past them, I grab the plate from the microwave and a spoon.
With that, I leave.