Page 151 of Finding Hope

My phone buzzes angrily from the passenger seat.

It’s Jack.

I canfeelthat it’s him, and I can feel his rage.

His name flashes on my screen and draws painful sobs up my chest. Each time I apply eyeliner, he screams at me some more and ruins my work.

I have to pull myself together.

He’s done nothing wrong, technically. He promised nothing. This is my own problem, not his.

I wait for the call to ring out, then I simply sit and stare at the black screen. I need to stop crying. Then I need to figure out how to explain why I’m a raging idiot.

How do I explain this morning’s escape and tears without looking like a total clinger idiot?

Fuck.

Starting my car and doing a U-turn, I merge back onto the I40 and head back toward town. Idon’tslow when I pass the very site that Steph died. I don’t look at the wreath on the side of the road, or the sparkling glass that still lay scattered in the dirt.

I may as well go home, make good on my excuses, do some work and hang out with my brothers, so when Jack asks, I won’t have to lie.

Then once I’m done with my breakdown, I can go to him and pretend I’m still cool. That I’m not a clinger. That I won’t be a brat that demands attention over his dead girlfriend.

I already knew where this was going; aportionof Jack is better than none. There’s no heartbreak that’ll keep me from him, there’s nothing he can do to keep me away.

Like a glutton for punishment, I’ll keep going back, and every time he dreams of her, every time he speaks her name when he meant to say mine, I’ll close my trap and take another step into my own grave.

Even knowing it’ll one day kill me, I still willingly choose that over not having him at all.

It takes only thirty minutes before I roll into my driveway behind Scotch’s bike. Stepping out of my car and slamming the door, I head across the grass and let myself in the front door.

“Brat.” I jump at Alex’s gruff voice. The self-appointed security guard of my life, he steps into the hallway and folds his arms like I’m a criminal breaking into his house. “What are you doing home so early?”

“Jesus!” I smack his shoulder. “You scared the crap out of me!”

Lip twitching with humor, he rubs his arm. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were sneaking around.”

“Not sneaking.” I walk past him and head into the kitchen.

Dropping my handbag on the dining chair, I grit my teeth at the continued buzzing coming from my phone. Like a buzzing hive in my bag, it’s relentless as I try to ignore it and move to the coffee maker.

Stopping at the doorway and folding his arms, Alex watches me with a lifted brow. There’s a reason he’s chief around here. Not much gets past him.

“What’s going on, Brittany?”

“Nothing.”

“I thought yourboyfriendwas getting back to town last night.”

“He did.” I grab the milk from the fridge.

“So why are you here?”

“Because it’s the next day and I have work to do.”

“I just figured.” He crosses his ankles and settles in for the interrogation. “I didn’t expect you home for a while yet.”

Ignoring the incessant fucking phone, I turn with my fresh coffee and pretend my heart doesn’t ache. “Well, here I am. I have papers to mark, and I figured, haven’t seen you in a while, thought you’d like to hang out.”

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