Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
I hated the way she protested. Not like that. As if it would have made her less if that evil man had touched her. Not sure if it was the right thing to say, not sure if I should say anything at all, I ventured, “You know it’s not your fault, right? If he had.”
She shook her head hard, and I said, “I’m not saying he did, Hope. I believe you. I’m just saying, of all the people in that fucked up situation, you were innocent.”
“I was never innocent,” she said bitterly.
“Hope, you’re the most innocent person I’ve ever known.”
“If you knew the things I’d seen by the time I could walk—”
“That just makes you more of a miracle, that you were born into that, saw all those things, and here you are. You’re kind, and generous, and sweet, and loyal. You’re one of the best people I know. Your heart has always been innocent, and it breaks mine to know that the people who were supposed to protect it didn’t.”
A tear rolled down her cheek falling into her almost-empty teacup. Leaning forward slowly, not wanting to spook her, I pulled the cup from her fingers. “I don’t want to crowd you, Buttercup, but I really want to hold you right now.”
With a choked cry, Hope threw herself in my direction. I caught her in my arms and pulled her on top of me, turning to stretch out on the wide, soft, velvet sofa. Wrapping my arms around her, I held her as tight as I could, not sure I’d ever let her go.
She was silent in my arms, her face pressed into my neck, her tears hot on my skin. Hope wept for what felt like hours, never making a sound aside from a hitching breath here and there.
Had she learned to cry quietly as a child? I hated the thought. No, hate didn’t cover it. Hope, my Hope, was everything good in the world. How she’d come from such desperate beginnings I couldn’t imagine.
I rubbed her back, smoothed her hair, so many details falling into place now that I knew.
I already knew I’d been a shit by blaming her for what had ultimately been my father and Ford’s machinations. She’d been an easy target and I’d fallen for it. I could forgive twenty-two-year-old me for being a dumb ass. I wasn’t sure I could forgive myself for holding a grudge for so long. Against my father, abso-fucking-lutely. Against Hope? No.
I thought of Sterling passed out in her bed. Of Brax, and Quinn, and Parker, and even Avery and Tenn who’d been only fifteen when I left. Ford, Royal, and Finn had been old enough to speak for themselves. To understand what was happening. Maybe they deserved a little bit of a grudge.
But the rest—I was holding onto anger over something that had only been good for me in the end. The woman wrapped in my arms had lived through so much worse than Prentice’s bullshit and she’d come out of it with a clean and open heart. I should learn from her and stop being such an asshole.
Hope fell asleep, her tears still wet on her cheeks, her body held tightly in my arms. When I was sure she wouldn’t wake, I picked her up and carried her to our bed.
I climbed into bed beside her and pulled her back into my arms, her head over my heart, emotion flooding me as she settled into me with a sleepy sigh. I combed my fingers through her hair and felt her slide deep into slumber, only following when I was sure she’d have sweet dreams.
She didn’t. I could have guessed that. Dredging up the past, the scene with Sterling—all of it was custom-made to plant nightmares in Hope’s brain. She woke twice, the first time with a start and a gasp, sitting bolt upright and looking around the room, eyes wide in panic.
I slept lightly out of habit, coming alert and catching her before her panic grew too deep. Framing her face in my hands until her eyes locked on mine, I said, “Breathe, Buttercup. Take a deep breath for me.” With each slow breath, she calmed, and I pulled her back down, stroking her hair from her face until she fell asleep again.
Later, in the light of early dawn, she tossed and turned, little whimpering sounds coming from the base of her throat. Wounded, frightened sounds. I hated every one. This time, she didn’t wake fully but responded to the sound of my voice in her ear telling her she was safe. That I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
I meant the vow all the way to the marrow of my bones. Hope was precious. I wouldn’t let anything happen to her. She was mine now. I take care of what’s mine.