Hold on to Hope

Sadness crawled through my spirit, and I chewed at the inside of my cheek as I tried to figure out what it was that I was feeling. To process through the panic that had overtaken me when I’d awaken, curled up in Evan’s arms just as dawn was cracking the sky.

This feeling that no matter what direction I went, I was going to lose.

There were so many complications. So many unknowns. More tragedy than he knew. Part of me wanted to protect him from it, sure he would be destroyed when he found out the truth, the other was still angry that he hadn’t been there to share in that pain with me.

I glanced at her, words close to a plea. “I’m worried I’m already in too deep, Carly. That little boy . . .” I trailed off, not even able to complete the thought.

That I was terrified I was going to lose them both. Terrified of the way I’d been drawn to that crib when I’d awoken. The way I couldn’t help but reach down and rub Everett’s little back, pray that he was whole and well, that he would have the chance to soar and fly.

Pray that his mother wouldn’t harm him in some way. That she wouldn’t harm Evan by trying to steal him away.

Scariest was the realization that I was praying that it wouldn’t harm me.

Attached.

Connected.

In love.

Overcome with it, I’d crawled out Evan’s window without making a sound, knowing I needed some time to process it all. To figure out where we were headed and if I was ready to go there because I sure as hell couldn’t seem to put on the brakes when Evan was in my space.

From zero to a hundred in a second flat.

No looking back.

“What do you feel when you look at Everett?” Her question was careful.

I swiped at the single tear that streaked down my cheek, huffing out a sound of disbelief. “Too much. Everything. Fear and jealousy and this bright, blinding love that I can’t stop.”

“You have to tell him,” she quietly urged, a supportive hand on my knee.

Sorrow gathered in my throat, thick and wobbly, and I struggled to swallow it down. “I know. I’m just . . . not sure I’m ready. Not sure that he is.”

Carly frowned. “You can’t keep it from him, Frankie. It’s not right. And with Everett . . .” she trailed off.

Guilt teetered around on unsteady feet.

“I’ll tell him. I will. I just . . . have to find the right time.”

The right way. The right words.

And pray they didn’t send him crumbling once and for all.

“You think there’s ever going to be the perfect time? That it will change how it will affect him? You’ve carried that around for years, Frankie, and it’s nearly destroyed you. You can’t keep shouldering all of that yourself. He needs to know.”

A tremble rolled through. “I know.”

“After that?” she pressed.

“We hope it doesn’t send him running across the country again.”

Milo came trotting out of my room, his nails clicking on the tile. He came right for me and burrowed his face in my lap. I petted him, fingers in his fur, a kiss to his head. “Hi, boy. You need to go outside? I’m sorry I was gone all night.”

He hopped around, all too excited for a pee.

Dog life.

If only ours could be that simple.

Carly waved me off. “Pssh . . . he didn’t even notice. I went in there to check on him a couple of times, and he was snoring away like an old man.”

“That’s because you are an old man, aren’t you?” I cooed as I rubbed both sides of his snout and kissed his wet nose.

I pushed to standing. “Come on, let’s go,” I called to him, heading toward the door where I kept his leash on a hook.

I hooked it to his collar and opened the door to the blazing morning light, the sun shining through the branches of the trees to warm the coming day. I led Milo across the porch and down the steps. He lifted his leg before my old boy went to sniffing away.

Movement startled me from behind, and I whipped around, a shriek getting free when I found Jack lurking ten feet away.

I scowled his direction, trying to look mad and irritated, praying it would cover up the creeping fear that slithered beneath my skin when I saw him leaned on the post of his porch.

“Mornin’,” he said, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” I told him, turning my back.

“I’m sorry,” he said anyway.

I tossed a glare his way. “You threw a rock through my car window. I’m not sure apologies are accepted at this point.”

He heaved out a heavy sigh. “That was unacceptable. I know it. Surprised you didn’t have me hauled off to jail, honestly, or your dad over here to kick my ass.”