Page 216 of Collided

“It isn’t.”

“It is.”

“It isn’t.”

Fuck it. She can win.

Leaning my head back, I think about what Hope told me a few days ago. She gave me a hint. A man is hurting her, but she won’t tell mewho.My only assurance is that she said she’d call me if something happens. I should trust her to ask for my help, but I don’t. She’s never one to ask for help even when she’s suffering.

Like me.

We both like to endure our struggles on our own, not wanting to bother the people around us.

I glance at Marie who’s drinking pumpkin spiced latte, her favorite seasonal drink of Autumn. For every season she has a specific drink that she orders. A smile is on her face, and she looks happy and excited—her usual self. I can’t fathom telling her about Hope and worrying her. She’ll march down to her house and demand it to make it right for her. Since she was bullied, she knows what physical and emotional abuse can do to someone.

My fists curl in anger and I want to wrap Hope in my arms and just fucking protect her.

Knowing Marie, she’ll move heavens and earth to be there for her. I’m surprised that she hasn’t figured it out already. I mean Hope is shit at lying.

Marie catches me staring at her. “What are you frowning about?”

“I wonder how you drink that obnoxious fucking drink.”

“It’s delicious.”

“And fucking sweet.”

“That too.” She shrugs nonchalantly.

Standing up, I grab my car keys and turn to her. “I’m gonna leave now.”

Marie quickly comes up to me and gives me a short hug. She frees herself before I can do it for her.

Thanks for fuck’s sake.

The only hugs I can tolerate are those I get from the pretty book nerd. She can steal as many as she wants, I don’t mind at all. With everyone else, I want to detach myself as quickly as possible.

“See you at the fair.”

I stride into the foyer, and she follows me like a younger sibling.

“I’m not going,” I tell her. A fair is not my scene.

“Hope will be there.”

I’m going.

44

Hope

It’s Wednesday and I’m sitting in the loud cafeteria waiting for my friends. In two months these three people have made me someone who likes to sit in a boisterous room rather than in a quiet nook of a library—I mean I still like that, but if I have to choose, I’ll choose them.

Marie barrels to our table in excitement with a grinning Sebastian following her, his eyes fixed on her and filled with love.

“We’re here,” she announces as she puts down the bags of takeout food and sits across from me.

“You were quick,” I say.

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