Page 143 of Just This Once

I gave a harsh laugh and shook my head. “Bull fucking shit.”

“I yelled at him,” Hope insisted in an emotionless, it-is-what-it-is kind of way. “I screamed that I hated him, and he had a heart attack anddied, Parker. I killed him.”

“Yeah, well. I did the same,” I argued. “I yelled at my parents and told them I hated them the last time I saw them alive, too.”

“What?” She sounded surprised. “Did you really? I never knew that.”

“Yep. And it was all because they wouldn’t entertain the idea of us getting a dog. I mean, how petty was that? I killed them over a fucking selfishwantI had. At least you had a good reason to yell at your dad. He cheated on your mom and hid a whole brother from you for your entire life.”

“You didn’t kill your parents, Parker.”

“Well, then you didn’t kill your dad,” I countered softly.

She was quiet for a moment, digesting that. When the starch went out of her shoulders, she released a breath. “You know what gets at me the most?” she asked softly. “It’s not the survivor’s guilt, or the missing him, or even the big lonely, gaping hole he left behind with his death, even though all that sucks enough as it is. It’s not being able to see him one single last time to say?—”

“Sorry,” I finished for her.

She sighed. “Exactly. I didn’t get to apologize. And I just can’t—I can never make it right again.”

Staring over her shoulder and across the room toward a glowing clock, I said, “I get that. Why do you think I’m still trying to reach out to my parents? Because the need to apologize still eats at me. Daily. It makes me want to lash out and break shit and just drink the ache out of my system.”

Hope twisted in my arms so she could face me. When her palm slipped over my cheek in comfort, I turned my mouth in to kiss her wrist.

“Any luck reaching them yet?” she asked.

“No.” I shook my head. “I haven’t even tried again since the night you landed in Westport.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why not?”

I shrugged before closing my eyes. “I think the closer I get to reaching them, the more scared I get. What if they don’t want to see me? I was a pretty big ass to them. What if they blame me as much as I blame myself? What if they don’t forgive me?”

“Not possible,” she assured. Her breath washed across my face as she moved closer. “They love you. They want to see you.”

When she started to sink her fingers into my hair, I groaned and let my head fall forward so my brow could rest against hers. “What makes you so sure?”

“Easy,” she told me with a smile in her voice. “Because you’re a pretty big ass to me most of the time, but I forgive you for that. And I still want to see you. Always.”

“Hope,” I choked out before finding her mouth in the dark.

She met my lips readily, and a slew of long, wet kisses followed, kisses that were more concerned with giving pleasure than gaining it, kisses that expressed more emotion than desire, kisses unlike any kiss I’d ever experienced before. I kissedHope, not just someone I wanted to get an orgasm from. And it consumed me completely.

When our lips broke apart, I found her hand and threaded our fingers together. After studying the connection, I brought her knuckles to my nose so I could close my eyes and draw in the scent of us.

No one could stir me up and piss me off as much as this woman could. Yet no one could calm me down and make the scared, lonely anger in my head go quiet like she could either.She was the spark that fueled everything vibrant inside me. And I needed her in order to keep feeling this alive.

Kissing the side of her thumb, I opened my lashes and met her gaze to say, “Stay.”

Nodding once, she whispered, “Okay.”

And my soul sighed in relief.

34

HOPE

Iwoke up before Parker the next morning.

With a big, stupid grin on my face, I stretched my arms over my head and rolled to face him.

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