Page 47 of Hiding from Hope

“Ew! Rosie, God. Details! I don’t want them!” Addison gets up and heads for her room before she turns and pins me with a gentle smile.

“I’m happy if you’re happy, Case. Just… be careful. With your heart, and his.” She nods and then pins Rosie with a glare before she leaves. Rosie laughs from next to me.

“Okay, now that she is gone, I want every detail. I want words, sounds, descriptions. Everything!”

“Gross, Rosie,” I say, while laughing.

“Think of it as research. I am an editor with a love for smut. I need to know real-life experiences so I can make my author’s work pop.” She emphasizes her point with a little pop of her lips.

“Don’t you have enough real-life experiences for the both of us?” I ask, turning to look at her. She scoffs and scoots down the couch.

“Not lately,” she mumbles.

“Oh, what’s that now? Rosie in a dry spell?”

“It is not a dry spell! It’s just… I’m having a stretch of dull dick.” That makes me lose my shit, and I tumble forward laughing and slap a hand to her knee as she grunts.

“Shut up. Look, in my defense, work has been super busy, and I’ve been super tired and haven’t been bothered to chase much. I’m just in a rut. I’ll get back on it, don’t worry,” she instructs, like it is very serious, and I shake my head at her.

“Well, I need to get ready. I have both mine and Grace’s classes for the next however long, and I need to fix the rosters.” Rosie nods.

“Fine, details later. With wine. Have an orgasmic day, Ace.” Rosie winks before she giggles and struts with emphasis back to her room. I roll my eyes and head for mine.

My heart jumping and my stomach taking flight with a flurry of butterflies.

Is there a me and Jessie?

No. There can’t be. I know that. I hate it, but I know that. He is broken over Jenny. I have a lot going on with family. Honestly? I don’t think I could go there with him. Not now. Especially not when he isn’t willing to give himself completely. There is too much he is holding on to, too much of himself that he guards. He has every right to guard his heart, but I already spent four years of my life with someone who didn’t give me their all, and I won’t do it again.

I nod at myself, finding my reflection in the mirror of my bathroom, and a spark of pride and confidence grows deep within my chest. He isn’t ready.

And that is okay.

Jessie is important to me. A friend, and I care for him.

I’ll wait. But I won’t risk my heart. If he wants this–wants me–he is going to have to come right out and say it.

Casey

“Sorry everyone, Grace is away for the next couple of weeks, so you are blessed with me in her absence.” I smile to the group of women—and one man—before me. Taking Grace’s inner-child class today. She was always so good with this one, helping others heal through breath work, stretching, and movement.

“Let’s start in boat pose.” I walk them through the breathing, setting up the posture, and ensuring we practice with the right muscles engaged, adjusting beginners as required and challenging the more experienced regulars.

“Let go of what you’ve been holding on to. Use those emotions to power you through, stoking the fire that drives you, keeping you strong. Relaxing your face muscles, let go of all that tension, while bracing your core, keeping your navel drawn to your spine. And breathe. Holding for 3, 2, 1, lowering all the way to a long body stretch.” I demonstrate and stretch my arms up above me, feeling my spine stretch along the mat, my muscles relax, and the coolness of letting go washes over me. I think about the tension I hold through every day, the weight of expectations, and trying to anticipate the needs of everyone to make sure the people I love are cared for.

“Notice how you feel. Don’t dwell, just note it. Label it, and file it away, keeping your breaths deep, your face relaxed with a gentle smile.” I softly instruct as I fall deeper into the stretch, trying to take as much advantage of the exercise as my class engages in theirs.

Memories start to come to mind, fleeting, but they’re there. Grace sneaking out after Mom and Dad were asleep; at first, she didn’t know that I knew, but after the first few months, I started waiting for her. I wanted to know where she was going. I needed to know who she was with. What would happen if one day she didn’t come back? I would need to tell our parents. They would need to know where to look, would need something to give the police if she went missing. I felt responsible for making sure she was back safely. That was, until the night she was busted. Man did that scare the crap out of me. My parents have always been pretty level-headed, at least up until that point. I’d never seen Mom lose her cool like I did that night.

Grace was grounded, of course. But it changed the direction of everything. Mom, Dad, and Grace started getting into a lot of fights. A lot of things, I thought, could have been avoided with just a little communication, anticipation, or thought.

Grace getting mad that none of her clothes were clean; Mom losing it because she never put her clothes in the wash.

Grace having a tantrum because she had lost something; Dad getting angry because Grace was careless with her belongings.

When Mom and Dad lost it at Grace, they lost it at each other, at me. It got extra bad when Mom dropped me off at the library for study group in high school, but then forgot to come get me because she was busy chasing down Grace after a particularly heated argument she’d had with Dad. They ended up eating dinner and getting ready for bed. Rosie’s nanny—yes, nanny…even in high school—had picked me up and dropped me home, and then my mom cried because she felt so horrible that she’d forgotten me.

After that day, I just found it easier to help. I’d made sure Grace’s clothes were washed if Mom wasn’t home to do it. I had convinced Grace to send me her location when she’d sneak out and give me one contact number—she wouldn’t tell me the name of the person, and said she’d murder me if I ever used it for anything other than an emergency—but I saved it, nonetheless. I started keeping track of Grace’s jewelry that she’d lose or where she’d put her keys. The house started to resemble some peace.

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