Page 48 of Searching for Hope

“It’s a pool party!” I yell. “What else was I supposed to wear? And since when did what I wear give you any sort of permission to ‘do something about it’.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t go all feminist on me. You’re the one who came to me, remember? You’re the one who came begging for—”

“I never begged you for anything,” I snarl.

My hands are clenched fists at my sides. My teeth are gritted. But then I remember why I’m here. The purpose of getting back in contact with him. I remember Hope.

Taking a deep breath, I cautiously sit back beside him, but not too close. “I’m sorry.” I flick a glance his way. His head is tipped to the sky. He’s wearing a shirt now, but it’s open, his chest exposed. He’s always been a good-looking guy, but right now, it’s hard to see any of that, knowing what I know. “I just need to establish myself first, you know? I don’t want to be known ashisdaughter, oryourgirlfriend, I just want to be known asme. Us being together would complicate that.”

“I’ve always been fond of complications,” he says, still staring at the sky.

I reach into the ice bucket beside the cushion-nest and pull out a bottle of wine. There are glasses too, but I don’t bother with one. Unscrewing the lid, I bring the bottle to my lips and drink deeply, shuddering when the bitter liquid falls to my stomach.

“How come you’re with him, then? Jericho fucking Priest.”

“I’m not with him like that,” I mumble.

Michael’s head swings back down so he can look at me. Sitting forward, he loops his arms around his knees. “You swear?”

I nod and take another gulp of wine. “He’s much older than me.” I try to say it as though it disgusts me, but visions of Jericho’s muscled torso, his wicked smile and his burning eyes flash through my mind. The emotions that go along with the images are about as far away from disgust as they can get.

“How well do you really know him?”

Shaking my head, I get to my feet, the alcohol having invigorated me again. “He’s just a business partner, Michael.”

Walking to the edge of the roof, I start swaying and dancing, staring mischievously over the top of my bottle at Michael. I want that rush of danger, of pushing things to the edge. I want to forget Michael. And Jericho. And the police officer. And Gideon. And my father. I want to forget everything, even if it’s only for a moment.

“Everly,” Michael warns.

I rise to my tiptoes, spinning in a pirouette before laughing and coming over to him.

He rolls his eyes. “You’ve always been reckless.”

“That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?”

“Do you not remember what you were like?” He leans back, crossing his ankles as I manage to settle myself beside him again, pretending our previous exchange never happened. “You were fearless. You’d do anything on a dare. Do you remember that one time Eric dared you to jump off that cliff?”

“And who won?”

“Exactly my point. You told me once you didn’t care how people remembered you, only that they remembered you. I think there was a part of you that thrived on fear.”

“I don’t remember that.” A breeze dances across the rooftop and I adjust the shoulders of my dress, pulling them closer.

Michael’s eyes narrow in on the scar that’s visible through the translucent material. We sit in silence for a while and just watch the chaos below. We seem so separated from it up here. Like the gods of Mount Olympus looking down on the pathetic humans.

“Are you for real, Ev?” he says, cutting through the peace of my thoughts.

I turn sharply. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this nonsense about stepping into your father’s shoes. You don’t mean it, do you?”

“What, because I’m a girl?” I tease.

Michael snorts. “Well, yeah. It just doesn’t seem normal.”

“It’s not.” I drain the last dribble of liquid from my bottle. “But since when have I let that stop me?” Getting to my feet, I let my dress slide off my shoulders and turn back to look at Michael with a challenging glare. “I’m reckless, remember?” I grin. “Dare you to jump into the pool.”

Michael laughs. “No fucking way, Ev.”

---