Page 49 of Finding Home

Ivy finished tying her laces and slowly rose to her feet. She was decked out in full running gear, complete with a reflective lightweight jacket. She was about to go for her insane crack of dawn five-mile daily run.

She stood, hands on hips, giving Hope the mother of all know-it-all-looks. Hope folded under it like a cheap suitcase.

“Okay, I did.” She covered her face with her hands. “All night long. I’m such a ho.”

“Maybe, but you’re a lucky-ass ho,” Ivy said, pulling Hope’s hands from her face. “Seriously. You fucked the landlord.”

“Omigod! Don’t say that. You make it sound so inappropriate, so dirty.” As Hope stared into her best friend’s eyes, her own eyes widened with worry. “Ok, so it was totally dirty, but do you think it’s…? You know, inappropriate?”

Ivy’s eyes lit with absolute delight, then she broke out in a loud laugh.

“Sssshhhhh!” Hope pushed Ivy deeper into their apartment, looking over her shoulder to make sure the door was properly closed.

“Oh my God, Hope. Honestly. You need to get a grip. You’re ruining your postcoital glow.” Ivy placed a firm hand on Hope’s shoulder, her lips quirking as she obviously tried her best to morph her face back into a more serious look. “It’s not inappropriate. You deserve this. Really. No one I know deserves it more.”

Hope covered her friend’s hand with her own. “You do,” she said softly. “You deserve it more.”

A silence hung between them. They both knew the unspoken meaning behind Hope’s words. Hope had seen the effects of hell, but Ivy was the one who had lived through it. The past still hung like a weight around Ivy’s neck, dragging her down no matter how hard she worked to become strong, or how many runs she went on to clear her head. She couldn’t escape what happened. Could never let the nightmare go.

Ivy’s gaze grew distant, and Hope kicked herself for bringing the past up. Ivy did best when she didn’t talk about what had occurred, when she buried the experience in the deep, dark recesses of her mind. She had never managed to go on like nothing happened, but she’d rather run ten miles in a blizzard than talk about the incident.

As far as Hope knew, only a handful of people knew the whole truth of what had happened to Ivy three years ago: Hope, Joel, the counselor who Hope had convinced/forced Ivy to see after the fact, and the college students who could rot in hell as far as Hope was concerned.

“Ivy—”

Ivy shook her head, refocusing. “That life isn’t for me Hope. Besides, I quite enjoy living vicariously through you. So you need to have enough sex for the both of us.” She gave Hope an impressed once over. “And by the look of things, you just did.”

Hope felt her cheeks heat at the truth. “Ugh, I’m not like this. Tonight was completely spontaneous.” She sighed deeply at the memory of just a few hours ago. “But geez, was it ever good. So,sogood.”

Ivy nodded sympathetically, then perked her head up. “You’re gonna see him again, right? And again? And again?”

“I don’t know. It’s—complicated.”

“Hope, that’s so fucking cliché they made a movie about it.” Ivy rolled her eyes as she grabbed her keys off the kitchen counter. “Look, Gabe is a great guy. One of the best. Strong and solid. Loyal and faithful. Like a goddamn Labrador. He’s a sure bet. The real deal. You can count on him.” She turned back to Hope, holding her gaze. “He won’t hurt you,” she promised. Then, with a quick hug, she left Hope standing alone in their apartment.

“No,” she said to the empty space, voicing her deepest insecurity. “But what if I’m not a sure bet? What if I hurt him? Them.”

The empty space didn’t answer or reassure her. Only silence filled the air around her, and this time it wasn’t erotic. It was just cold and telling.

* * *

That afternoon, Gabe sat in his office behind the bar slogging through paperwork. He hated paperwork. But he was decent at the business end of things, which was part of why he’d made a success of the bar. Crunching the numbers, managing the staff schedules, and organizing product orders all came naturally to him.

But he still hated it. He’d rather be behind the bar slinging bottles, pouring drinks, and helping people enjoy themselves on any day of the week. Paper had to be pushed, though. So here he was hunched over his laptop with a stack of papers beside him, trying to focus.

And he was focused. He was focused on how hot and tight it’d been sliding in and out between Hope’s thighs. She’d felt like silk. Her skin smooth and soft, her body pliant and willing. She’d done anything and everything he’d asked of her, and yet he still couldn’t believe she’d actually let him touch her. But she had, and for one blissful night he’d died and gone straight to heaven.

The problem was that now he couldn’t get it out of his mind, and he hadn’t been able to focus on a single damn thing the whole damn day. Even more disconcerting was the fact that he knew he couldn’t let it be the last time. He had to have Hope again.

She may have scratched her itch last night, but Gabe had only gotten itchier.

Hope said she wanted to take things one step at a time, and he totally got that. Agreed with her even. He just hadn’t expected to wake up in bed alone. He’d wanted her to stay. He’d thought she’d wanted to stay, too.

Had he been wrong about how he’d interpreted her words? Did she want more than just sex with him?

Because he sure as hell did. He’d never been so fucking gone over a woman in his entire life. Or as confused. With Carrie everything had been clear. There had been a mutual attraction, which had led to dating, which had led to a relationship.

But with Hope, everything had started ass-backwards. And he couldn’t make sense of anything other than what he felt for her. Which was more than he had anticipated feeling for anyone ever again in his life.

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