Page 71 of Hiding from Hope

“What?” I scold her, and she pulls back, but her fury holds her strong. She is barely at my shoulder height, but when she levels me with that look, it feels a lot like she stares down her nose at me.

“Are you going to hurt my friend?”

“Why the fuck would I do that, Addison?”

“I am just making sure that in your attempt to bury your feelings, to rip out your own heart and refuse yourself the opportunity to feel something, that you’re not going to destroy my friend right along with you.”

“I’m in love with her!” I roar at her, my heart racing, and when her satisfied smile spreads across her face, my mouth opens and closes again. To take it back, to lie and say I’m not, but I am.

She holds her smirk and nods. “I know.” She closes her eyes and drops her head. Her hands on her hips like she is finding patience to deal with me.

“I know you are, Jessie, and I’m really hoping that you’re about to leave here and tell her exactly that.” She points at me. “Because if you’re going over there to pull away because all of our talk has scared you off, you better fucking stay gone. You’ll rip her heart out and she deserves better than that.” Burning green anger levels me, and I feel my heart bottom out. Pride burns deep inside, both at Addy’s strength and her unwavering support and love for her friend.

I had convinced myself that Casey wouldn’t have me if I went over there and tried to convince her to give us a chance. I am broken, but I am healing, and I want her to be the one that sat by me as I help her grow strong, too. I want to take care of her, give her what she needs when no one else does. When everyone else takes, I want to give, and I want to give until there is nothing left.

I just nod slowly at Addison, heeding the warning, but knowing, deeply, that if I have any control over this thing between Casey and me, it wouldn’t be to pull away or shatter her. It would be to steal her for just myself. To make her mine and never look back.

Addison nods back, and a wide smile spreads across her face as she whispers, “Go get her, then.”

Casey

I think the fumes of the glue are going to my head. I blink and shake my head, not realizing I’ve been hobbled over this re-bind for a few hours now, the ache in my knees evidence enough.

“You’re still at it? It’s 10pm, Casey,” Rosie chuckles as she drags her body from the entryway and falls to the couch.

“You’re home late.” I turn to her and give her the eyebrows.

“Ugh, it’s not what you think. Unless you’re thinking that I was held captive in my cubicle as Dickbag-Daniel mansplained why his general fiction pitch was more deserving of the editors’ pick than my ‘pathetic porno piece’. Then, yes. It is exactly what you think.” She heaves a huge sigh. “I need alcohol.” She groans and I chuckle, returning my attention to the book press, tightening the clamps to hold the glue in place, and then repositioning myself on the couch while I let it dry.

“That bad, huh?” I question her, and she tilts her head in my direction.

“I’m so sick of working at this huge company. It’s such a penis fest. My ideas are always shoved at the bottom of the pile and simply because a lot of my suggestions happen to be romance books with smut. It’s not like they are terribly written. These are heartbreaking tales with incredible love stories, and then we are gifted with what usually happens behind closed doors.” She throws her hands up as her voice raises, her passionate explanation getting progressively louder. “And you know what? Some don’t have any smut! Some are poetic pieces of literature in the modern form, written by extremely talented nobodies.” Her voice grows louder, my enjoyment at her animated venting growing with it.

“Might I add, I’m almost certain these idiots watch porn more often than I read it, but they are suddenly children of the church when I pitch a female written romance that describes how a man really should be loving on a woman.” She scoffs and sits up, her anger too much for lying down, apparently. A chuckle works its way up my throat as she aggressively grabs a pillow to her lap. “I wish I could just publish these books on my own.”

“Why don’t you, then?” She scoffs at my suggestion but, seriously?

“Rosie? Why the hell not? Actually, that is an excellent idea. Why don’t you go out on your own?”

“Please.” She waves me off, then heads for the kitchen

“Okay, no I’m actually serious, why don’t you? You’d be amazing at it!”

“Casey, I can’t just start my own publishing company! That’s… that’s just…” She trails off, looking at me, but not really looking at me, like she is actually finally considering the idea.

“Genius?” I try to finish her conversation for her and she stutters. Opening her mouth, closing it, then opening it again, and for the first time in history, Rosie is speechless.

“I hadn’t really considered that,” she mumbles. “Anyway, what book are you working on?” She maneuvers the conversation in a new direction, but I let her, all too excited about this project.

“I’m doing the Odyssey by Homer. It’s a gift.” I smile to myself and return my attention to the book currently drying, clamped to the coffee table.

“Ooo la la,” she teases from where she pours two glasses of wine.

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head, but don’t dignify the taunt with an answer. She is quiet for a beat, a loaded silence, and I can almost feel the words she is about to level me with.

“Have you talked to him about how you’re feeling?” she asks, and I’m grateful for how gently she does it.

I shake my head and look at my thumb, fidgeting with the ring that sits there. “He isn’t ready, Rosie.” She sips her wine and settles deeper into the couch, so I do the same. “We have so many amazing quiet moments, and I think I’ll get the courage to tell him. But then, it’s like he picks up on the energy and he shuts it down before I can even say anything. Sometimes I try to lead him there, try to gauge what he is feeling, and again, like he knows exactly what I’m doing, he either pushes me away or shuts it down.”

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