Page 89 of Hiding from Hope

“You’re kidding?” She pulls back, her eyes searching mine. “Wait, did you write it?”

“What?! No way. How could I write a book?”

“But it would make sense. All the secrecy, the love, the hurt, the pain, and the pining for something bigger, deeper.” She pretend-coughs to clear her throat and puts on her best actress voice as she recites a line, “‘Feeling vacant internally only to realize the person you held space for wasn’t what you had been waiting for at all. But another heart was out there, whispering your name. A heart you couldn’t find nor claim—’”

“Shh! Those aren’t my words, Rosie,” I assure her.

“Those are my words.”

My head snaps in Jessie’s direction, and Rosie chokes on the spoonful of cereal she is shoving into her mouth. You could hear a pin drop in the deathly silence that takes over our apartment.

My feet find the floor, but it feels like I’m walking on clouds. I can’t feel my face, can’t hear anything other than the sound of the blood rushing in my ears. Jessie’s face–shock and pain.

“Jessie,” I urge, heading toward him, but he doesn’t reach for me. He just stands there, letting me grab his arms, trying to force him to look at me, touch me, hold me. Something.

He looks at Rosie, and I have no idea what look she gives him, but he looks down at me.

“You found my manuscript?” he says, a world of hurt behind those words.

I nod and a tear escapes. He doesn’t stop it or wipe it, like he normally would. He watches it trail my cheek and his brows furrow deeper.

“You gave my manuscript to Rosie?” he asks and, God if his voice isn’t ripping my heart out of my chest.

“Jessie, I’m so sorry. Please, just let me explain. I’m so incredibly sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen—”

“What else did you think would happen?” His voice deepens, rising slightly with the anger that vibrates around him.

“I just found it.” I can’t stop the sob that leaves my lips. “I read it, Jess, it’s so incr—”

“Don’t do that right now.” He pulls back from my arms and steps back, his face curling in anger. “Don’t call me Jess. Don’t use that name, you know what that does. That isn’t fair.” His chest rises and falls as fast as my heart beats out of my chest.

“Jessie, please,” I beg, now properly sobbing. I can see him watch as each tear leaves my eyes. It feels like I’m suffocating. Like someone is sitting on my chest and I need… oh, god. I need Jessie to help me breathe. I reach for him again, but he steps back, his eyes vacantly looking at me. “I have to get to the shop,” he says quietly. “I’ll see you.” Without a goodbye, a kiss, even the twist of my thumb ring to ease my mind, he leaves through the front door and I can’t stop my knees as they buckle, and I hit the ground.

Casey

My body shudders as I sob. It feels like I just ripped out my own heart. I can’t breathe, I can’t organize a thought. It hurts more than the fight with Grace. It hurts more than the words she said, than my parents avoiding celebrating my birthday because it’s a day meant for everyone. It hurts more than Connor not giving me the effort I deserved.

“Breathe Casey. Just Breathe,” Rosie whispers. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. No wonder you wanted me to keep my big ass mouth closed.” She pulls my hair from my shoulders and lets it fall down my back as I hunch over my knees.

“At least that explains the secret with Addy. She might thump you when she finds out.” I don’t even have the mental capacity to consider those consequences right now. It simply feels like there is a hole in my chest. “C’mon, let’s go get freshened up and we can find a delicious hot coffee down the street,” she suggests, but I just shake my head, trying to clear the fog and tears.

“I need to go after him. I need to explain.” I go to stand, but Rosie grips my arm.

“That isn’t a good idea, Case. He is pissed. He has rage like Addison with the pain of a heartbroken man. Give him space to calm down.” I know she is right, but I can’t breathe.

“But… what if that wasn’t… he said he loves me. So, does that mean…” I can’t even speak the words. I feel like I’m going to throw up. “We’re still together… right?” I ask through a sob, and the sympathetic look on Rosie’s face as she shrugs has the nausea rising with a vengeance.

The sobs continue to wrack my body, and I angrily wipe at my tears. How did this go so wrong so quickly? I should have stopped Rosie. I should have taken the manuscript back.

“Do you have it with you?”

She shakes her head. “I wasn’t kidding before. The editor-in-chief loved it. He said it was what they needed to add to the romance genre. The heartbreak was pure and painful. It was relatable, with equal amounts of misery and hope. He wanted to make the author an offer. For publishing and for another book. He wants to take them on fully. Assign an editor, a PR team. Casey, Jessie could be a big name in literature. You need to get him to consider it.”

“Rosie, this piece is so personal to him. There is no way he will want other people reading it. God, I don’t know why I thought this would ever be a good idea. He is the most private person I know!” I am such an idiot.

“Who’s the most private person you know?” Addison’s husky morning voice fills the room, and I look over to find her tightening her robe around her waist and rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Your brother,” Rosie says gently, and when Addy looks at me and notices the tears, her eyes heat, her breaths coming in quicker.

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