Chapter 27
27
BEN
Rex races for the front door, landing on the porch in one leap, and I chuckle. “Are you excited to see them, too?” I rub the top of his head when I get to the porch, and he looks up at me. Once he realized where we were headed, he couldn’t sit still in the truck.
I knock on the door, and within seconds, the sound of footsteps come toward us. The door bursts open, revealing Evan wearing an excited grin. “Rex!”
Rex half stands on his back feet and barks, matching Evan’s excitement as he unlocks the screen door. My heart pounds because I know I’m about to see Hope again. Rex leaps up and rests his paws on Evan’s shoulders, excitedly licking his face, eliciting bright laughter from the boy who’s wormed his way into our hearts.
I hold the store-bought brownie and bottle of wine I grabbed on the way over above my head, and edge past the two. “Remember to lock the door, Ev.”
“Okay.”
As I walk down the hallway toward the kitchen at the back of the house, where I assume Hope will be, I pause for a moment and study the family photographs on the wall. Evan is like a mini version of his dad, but I see some aspects of Hope in him, too.
I skim my eyes over the various photos of Evan and Wyatt, Wyatt and Hope, Hope and Evan, and all three of them together.
Even though Hope hasn’t changed all that much, she looks different now. There’s an inherent sadness about her that isn’t present in any of these photos. Her eyes were brighter, and I could swear she was glowing. And as gorgeous as she is, there’s something to be said for the slightly more pronounced curves she had back then.
She was so happy. Content.
I’ve only ever seen brief glimpses of the Hope I see in these photos, and it’s only when she seems to forget for a moment and allows herself to be in the here and now, which doesn’t happen often. Soft music drifts out from the living room, making a change from the television I’ve grown accustomed to hearing.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her step from the kitchen. She pauses a moment, then comes closer, looking at the photographs as she stands beside me.
She sighs, then points to a photo where Evan is tiny. “That was the day we brought Evan home from the hospital. Wyatt had been deployed, and we weren’t sure if he was going to make it home in time. He missed the birth, but he was here to bring us home.” She points to another one. “This was Evan’s fifth birthday. It was the last birthday he got to share with his dad.”
I wedge the bottle of wine beneath my arm, hook my free arm around her shoulders, and she sinks into me. “I’m sorry, Hope. Life’s unfair sometimes.”
“Yeah,” she murmurs, then looks up at me. We’re so close that it would be easy to dip down and press a kiss to her soft lips. “I’ve been thinking …”
My pulse stutters at her expression, and I’m balancing on a knife’s edge as I wait for her to share. “Yeah. What have you been thinking?”
I trace her gorgeous face with my eyes, wishing I could run my fingers down her cheek until I reach her chin, then tip her face back and take her mouth in a kiss I hope would make her weak in the knees.
She licks her lips, making them shine. She has no idea what she does to me. How sexy she is.
“With everything that happened to Shane, I feel like he survived the blast so he could be here to save Jasmine from the rattler.” She shrugs and I study her closely, waiting for her to finish. “But then I would also have to accept there was a reason Wyatt didn’t survive.”
My heart tumbles out of my chest and sinks through my body until it’s in a mushy mess at my feet. I tug Hope’s body around until she’s pressed against me, and her hands drop to my waist, holding onto my sweater. I kiss her forehead, then rest my chin on top of her head and breathe her sweet scent deep into my lungs, holding her to me with one arm.
“Not necessarily. Sometimes shitty things happen to good people without rhyme or reason.”
She pulls her face away from my chest and tips her head back to look up at me. “I guess. Because I can’t think of a good enough reason for him to be taken from us so soon.”
I release her and slide my fingers through her hair, slipping it gently behind her ear. “There is no good reason. And I’m sorry you and Evan have had to experience his devastating loss. You will always love him and hold him in your memories. He will never diminish in your heart.”
Her eyes flick between mine, and I hope she knows I’m being sincere. A shaky smile forms, and she drags her hands up my flanks until they’re resting on my pecs. She’ll definitely feel how hard my heart is beating for her, but I don’t want to hide it. I’m so far gone for her, and we haven’t even kissed.
If this is all she’ll ever give me, I’ve decided it’ll be enough. My rational mind says: what the fuck, man ? But my affection for her doesn’t come from a rational place. Our gazes lock for a moment, and this close, her warm breath coats my chin.
She licks her lips again, and my eyes drop to watch. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she murmurs.
Evan hustles past us with Rex, but doesn’t bat an eye at our closeness, as if he’s seen us standing together in an embrace before.
“Smells delicious.”
She drops her gaze from mine, curls her hands into fists, and pushes away from me. When she spins toward the kitchen, my body deflates and I follow behind, my eyes dropping to her cute ass that’s wrapped in denim. She’s ditched the boots and replaced them with over-the-knee socks—like the ones she was wearing the night I turned up on her doorstep at midnight.
One day, I wouldn’t mind having her legs resting over my shoulders while she only wears those socks. Never in my life would I have thought I’d find long socks sexy, but on her … damn .
When I breach the kitchen door, I come to a stop. Rex’s bowls are in the same place they were the other weekend, already filled with food and water for him, like he’s part of the family. The table is set for three, and a salad is already sitting in the middle of the table. The Shepherd’s pie is resting on the stove, and the countertops are free of mess.
She’s worked hard since coming home from soccer practice, and it hits me … she probably always works too hard. She’s holding down a full-time job, running a household, and raising her son alone.
She doesn’t need a man or anyone else in her life because she already has everything covered. But I’d bet there are times when she’d love to take a break. To kick back and just breathe. To take some time for herself. To be cared for instead of being the one to always do the caring.
She’ll never need me. But I’d love for her to want me one day. To allow me the privilege of being the one to care for her and Evan.
I place the store-bought brownie on the counter, along with the bottle of wine. “How about you take a seat, and Evan and I will serve dinner?” I lead her to the dining room and pull out the chair at the head of the table.
“Oh, this is your seat,” she tells me, that distinctive flush I love so much rising up her slender throat.
Words escape me.
She sat me at the head of the table. Growing up, that spot was designated to the man of the house. It would have been where Wyatt sat when he was home, and warmth fills my body that she would even consider giving me the honor.
I shake my head. “ You’re the head of this household. You should sit there, Hope.”
She swallows and shakes her head a little. “I-I-I can’t sit there.”
I nod. “Which seat is yours then, Cookie?”
She points to the seat on the left, so I pull the chair out, and she sits. I guess that means Evan’s on the opposite side. I move the table setting from the head of the table to the seat beside Hope. She studies me closely, but I ignore the questions in her eyes. I want to show her I want to be here alongside her and Evan. That I’m not here to replace her husband.
“Evan, can you pour yourself a drink, please?” I walk around the counter to serve the pie, placing a portion on each plate. I hold a plate out for Evan to take. “Here ya go.”
“Thanks, Ben.” He takes a sip of his drink, then carries his glass and plate to the table. I follow him with our plates, then grab two wine glasses and the bottle I brought with me.
Holding it up to Hope, I ask, “Wine?”
She holds up her glass with a small smile. “Please.”
While I pour, I ask Evan, “So how do you think practice went this afternoon?”
He swallows the food in his mouth. “Pretty good, I think. Maybe next time, bring a whistle.”
I nod, then pour wine into my glass. “Good idea. It’ll save my voice.” I hold my glass up to Hope, and she taps hers against mine. Dipping my head, I say, “Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
The first mouthful of the meal Hope prepared is divine as the flavors of meat and potato burst across my tongue. She certainly knows how to cook. Every meal I’ve had here has been delicious. “This tastes fantastic. Thanks for inviting me to dinner.”
Hope adjusts her position. “Thanks, and you’re welcome,” she says without looking at me.
Her mood’s changed since she first said hello and we shared our moment in the hallway. She’s grown somber and distant. She’s rebuilt her walls, denying the friendship we’re building. I’m not gonna lie to myself and say I’m not disappointed, because I am, but this is to be expected. If I want a chance with her, I need to bide my time and show her there’s a life beyond the grief she’s been drowning in.
Even though I’m aware of every single movement she makes, every breath she takes, each bite of food she swallows, I turn my attention to Evan. “How was school today?”
He shrugs. “Okay, I guess. It was school. Same as every other school day.”
I nod. “Fair enough. Tell me one thing you liked best today, then.”
He chews while he thinks. “We’re starting a new topic in English. Creative writing.” A slow grin grows. “I think I’ll enjoy it.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “I think you’ll more than enjoy it. This is the perfect opportunity for you to share your talent. I look forward to reading what you write.”