Follow Me Back (Fight for Me 2)

Redness flushed my cheeks, and I typed out my response and hit send before I could think better of it.

Me: No man has ever made me feel the way you did.

Kale: That’s because you deserve a man who will treat you right. Guessing that fucker didn’t come close.

Wow.

I shouldn’t have been surprised.

I’d seen it in Kale’s eyes when I’d watched him come to the realization in the office earlier today. When it dawned on him exactly what was at stake.

Rage had burned across his face and tightened his hold, as if he didn’t want to let me go.

Then he’d realized he had to. That we might be drawn to each other, but our paths couldn’t connect.

Me: I can’t do this with you. There’s too much on the line.

Someday.

Someday, I could let myself get lost in the sea of a brilliant, beautiful man. Swept away. No need for solid ground because he would be my footing.

It took the longest time before a response came through.

Kale: I know. I know better. I’m sorry. I keep crossing that line when it’s clear neither of us are allowed to have what’s waiting on the other side. But you make it really damned hard not to try to jump over it.

Neither of us.

I frowned at that, wondering what he meant. What would hold him back—his own circumstances or my baggage? Maybe he didn’t have the capacity to be with someone like me.

Even if I weren’t in the middle of a divorce, my life would always be hinged on the most perfect complication.

The center of my world a red-headed, freckle-faced boy.

A bunch of texts blipped through in quick succession behind it.

Kale: Shit.

Kale: I’m sorry.

Kale: I’m fucking this up.

Kale: I just wanted to check on you both. Tell you, you have an amazing kid.

Kale: See what you do to me? You make me lose control.

An affected smile lit on my face. I had the unsettled feeling this man could be the completion of my joy.

I let the feeling take me over, gaze moving back over his words, wishing for a way.

Then I did what I knew I needed to do.

Me: Good night, Kale.

Kale: Good night, Hope.

I started to set it aside, but it blipped again.

Kale: Good night kiss?

Oh, this man. I was right all along. He really was trouble.

Me: I don’t think that’s a good idea.

I hoped it came across as stern and he couldn’t tell there was a giddy grin threatening to light on my mouth.

Kale: Boob shot? I’ll reciprocate.

It was no longer a threat, affection racing out, twisting my lips in a ridiculous smile, my heart beating overtime.

Me: You’re out of your mind.

Kale: I was thinking more along the lines of blowing yours.

Sitting in my bed, I laughed, out loud. It was as if I could actually feel his playfulness behind it. That easy confidence that had slipped into his tone.

Me: Go to sleep.

I was still wearing that silly grin when I hit send.

If only Jenna could see me right then.

Kale: If you won’t blow me a kiss, tell me you’ll at least dream of me?

I would not be admitting to that, though, the chances were good.

Me: Stop it.

When the next one came through, my heart grew heavy.

Kale: You’re beautiful, Hope. Seriously. That’s the last thing I’m going to say. Now I’m gonna back away.

I held his message to my chest and looked toward the ceiling, cherishing the words, fighting the urge to beg him not to.

Finally, I forced myself to set my phone aside.

I flipped off the lamp and curled on my side, hugging the comforter to my chest.

And it shouldn’t have been possible.

Not with everything that was going on.

But that night, as I drifted to sleep, I did so with a smile on my lips.

12

Hope

I tucked a receipt into the register and glanced up to the next customer in line. “Can I help you?”

The man stepped forward. “Harley Hope Gentry?”

It was instant.

The apprehension that bolted through me, forcing me back a step. The fact that he used that last name, the one I was trying to purge from my conscious and my life and my reality, set off a deafening scream of warning sirens in my ears.

Still, I was nodding, a painful lump growing up in my throat, obstructing any words that might have passed. He shoved a large envelope my direction. “You’ve been served.”

Tears burned, and the room spun. Violent trembles rolled through my body because this was so much like that day six months ago when Dane had rocked my world, contesting my divorce claim that would grant me full custody without support.

All I wanted was to cut ties.

Be done with it.

Give Evan the life he deserved.

I could barely clutch the envelope, my hands were shaking so bad.

“Jenna,” I tried to call but my voice cracked, coming out as little more than a whisper.