Page 64 of Hiding from Hope

He rubs at his jaw, the light never leaving his eyes as he looks to his computer a minute before coming back to me.

“Could have it up and running in a couple of weeks. Building the stock in might take a bit at first, but once the base of it is in, it’ll be simple to compile.”

“Can we have it staff run? Then I can have the girls add in any new stock we get?”

“Easy. You offering shipping?”

“If we can?”

“Done. What brought this on?” he questions, but the excitement never leaves him and I can’t help but soak it up, making me buzz with a similar feeling. Excited to grow, excited to try something new and get somewhere with the shop.

I tell him about my chat with Ethan, and both he and Caleb decide to add their two cents in for ideas about new marketing campaigns.

“You could host author spotlights, pair it with a coffee that matches their book, even host it the week of their release and run a special. That’s something that’d work even if you don’t get the actual authors in,” he provides, and for the first time, I see the business-minded Caleb. The focused, driven, and determined guy who runs the sales team for a serious company. Respect settles deep, and I nod at him appreciatively.

Hope.

That’s what the buzz is. It’s the same sensation I had when Casey smiled at me this morning, and the same feeling I got when Ethan offered to help me. The way Noah soaks up this idea and the way Caleb is bustling with energy has me feeling… hope.

I sit in my reading chair, staring at the text. At the one word that threatens to bring down every wall I’ve tried to keep up around me where Casey is concerned.

I could fall really hard here. I really can’t tell if this is the fun Casey just being her usual cheeky self. Or is this Casey falling for me, too?

What are we doing?

My hand raises to rub at the pain in my chest, confused and somehow also feeling lighter. But, I leave the message thread on read to stop myself from saying a whole bunch of shit that would get me into trouble. That will spin us out of control where the only person twisted and bound is me, as I watch the hope I am desperately trying to cling to gallop into the sunset as her Prince Charming sweeps her off her feet.

Pulling my attention back to my laptop, I slip my phone onto do not disturb and get lost in the world of words. The ones trapped in my mind, begging to find their place on a page. The story churning in my mind amongst the pain, madness, and despair.

The only parts of joy within the deepness of my mind these days seem to be the parts taken up by Casey. Casey Moira. The guiding star. Fitting really, which is what I had barely told her the night I saw that M embossed on her bag. That she is the star in the sky, high above the sea. Meant to guide lost sailors home. In some other forms of the legend, it is a sign of hope that rain will come and free the land from drought. Without even really trying, she has guided me from my misery, helping me find my way back to myself, to start feeling whole again. Giving me hope that there is something out there that could be wholly mine and bring peace and joy. Even if it isn’t Casey who ends up being that person, I am suddenly not completely closed off to the idea of letting someone in again.

Maybe.

Of course, I couldn’t tell her any of this. So maybe I wouldn’t tell her. Maybe I could put all the things I want to say into fiction. Give the characters that live in my mind the happy ever after I would likely never have for myself.

Casey

“So, what are we doing for your birthday this year?” Rosie questions from her position on the couch. As usual, a blanket over her waist and a wine glass in her hand. Her question pulls me from my text thread, thankfully, distracting me from my idiotic decisions.

You.

I essentially told Jessie that I miss him when I just saw him this morning. The more mortifying detail of that is that he then proceeded to leave me on read.

I am such an idiot. We haven’t defined anything. We’ve slept together twice, and done a variety of other toe curling activities, and I am like a starstruck teen falling in love for the first time.

I am obsessed.

“Case?” Right, Rosie asked a question.

“Hmm?”

“Your birthday. What are we doing this year?” she asks again, twisting on the couch to face me fully.

“Addison’s birthday is on Tuesday. Let’s just focus on that one,” I retort, trying not to think about my birthday.

“And she is going to be in Chicago with Noah until after Thanksgiving. I ask again: what are we doing for your birthday?” I shrug at her question. My birthday still isn’t for another month, but with it being on Christmas Eve, I am used to it being overlooked, at least by my family. Now, with everything going on with Grace, I’m really not expecting anything extravagant. The girls and I usually have some kind of date–drinks, movie night, dinner, sometimes even a night out.

“Why don’t we go out? We could invite the guys and Stella?”

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