Page 97 of Hiding from Hope

“Why is it confusing?”

“Because you’re mad at me.” She spins with hands in the air, her voice raised.

“I am.”

“Okay, so act like it.” I shake my head at her, utterly lost with this woman right now.

“What do you want from me, Casey?”

“I don’t know, not this!” She throws her hands up again and is now borderline yelling. “You’re supposed to act mad!”

“What are you talking about? I can’t care for you and worry about you while I’m also mad at you?” My tone rises to match hers as I work to shove the anger back down. Back in its box. I can’t do this here with her. I can’t show the monster. I won’t be him. I can’t become him.

I breathe deeply through my nose and watch as her intelligent eyes assess me.

“You’re being calm. Loving and kind. You’re attentive and assuring me. You’re acting like I didn’t fuck everything up!”

“Because you didn’t fuck everything up,” I remind her, because she fucked up, but everything is not fucked.

“I lied to you for months. I stole from you, I shared your secrets, I pimped out your fucking soul to a publishing company,” she starts pacing, her adorable angry eyes are everywhere–between me, the window, the ground then back to me–as she talks animatedly with her hands, “and you’re just here like, ‘Oh, stella mea, you drive me crazy, I’m gonna fuck your brains out in a public bathroom.’ Like, what the fuck is that, Jessie?”

I have to tuck my chin to my chest and bite my tongue to smother the laugh that almost bursts at the seams. Listening to Casey attempt a deep voice impersonation with her very adorable angry face is the most entertainment I’ve had in a long time. If this is how our fights are going to go, I can’t fucking wait to marry this woman.

“Jessie Jenkins, you better stop fucking laughing at me and get serious.” When I look up at her, she levels a pointed finger at me and narrows her big blue eyes. I take a step forward, letting her raised finger jab me in the chest, tucking my hands into my pockets.

“I haven’t ever heard you swear like this without my cock inside you. A new side to you, sunshine. I think I like it.” I tap her adorable nose and she swats me away. I see the exhaustion weigh heavily on her, and when she looks back up at me, there is a sadness in her eyes.

“Jessie, please.” I nod at her, understanding her need for this.

“Okay, then. We’re doing this,” I say, settling back into my anger. After all this time, it’s become easy to tap into it; it’s burying it that is hard.

“Why?” I question and she straightens, swallowing deeply, but settles in.

“I didn’t really know what I was doing. I tripped on it, kind of… Anyway, I found it, read it… Jessie, it truly is a masterp—”

“You lied to me for months. You stole from me, shared my secrets, ‘pimped out my fucking soul’. I don’t really care about your opinion on the writing, Case. I care about why you would do this to me, how you could lie to me like that,” I interrupt her and level her with a look, focusing on keeping a level tone. I appreciate her need for a fight, but I refuse to disrespect her by losing my cool and becoming my father.

“I knew you wouldn’t do anything with it. I knew you wouldn’t see the beauty and the incredible story in that writing.”

“So, I was your pity project, then? Something to fix?”

“No, it wasn’t that. You would have sat there and thought that no one cared what you had to say. That no one would support you and be excited for you. I thought…” She pauses and mulls on her words, each of her previous ones feeling like little slaps to the face. But I deserve them… she isn’t wrong.

“You thought what?” I ask through gritted teeth. Pain sears me as she looks up at me, those incredible blue eyes swimming in tears.

“I thought that if you could see that people do care, that people felt something when they read your writing, that maybe you’d have faith in yourself, too, that maybe you’d start to believe that you deserved more. It was a mistake, I know that. You have no idea how sorry I am. I am so sorry, Jessie. I didn’t mean to betray you.” Her voice is dripping with self-loathing and pain. She lowers her head and sobs, but she doesn’t let me go to her, instead she backs away.

“I know how much you probably hate me—”

“Casey—” I try to stop her, but she holds up a hand. And I’m still reeling from everything she’s said, the way she had perceived me as something to fix. It’s humiliating, and shame covers me like a wet blanket. But what she doesn’t understand is that I know this. I was hiding, but I was learning and healing, and she was the reason for that. I know she can’t help herself. She saw a way to help someone she cared about, and she took it. I know her intentions were pure. What I don’t know is why we are talking like this is the end, how she could ever think I hated her.

“I don’t want to be a point of pain for you. I only ever wanted to help you.” She covers her face, and everything she feels surrounds her like an aura. I want to take it all away, but I’m… stuck. Struggling to wrap my head around any of it. Before I can say anything to smother her fear that this is the end, my phone rings. I pull it from my pocket to stop it when I see the café’s number pop up.

“Fuck,” I mutter and run a frustrated hand down my face. They would only call if it is urgent because they are under strict instructions not to fucking call unless it is.

“You should take that. I’ll get going.”

“What? No, Casey. just let me get this. But don’t leave.”

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