Page 57 of Searching for Hope

My body poked and prodded by vicious fingers.

Someone pressing on my shoulders, forcing me to my knees.

They are different from usual, the way they’re distorted and frenzied, a chaotic mess all crashing into my head at once. And I don’t feel arousal. Not at all. I feel disgust at the unwanted advances, shame and anger at their aggression.

They’re too much.

They’re overwhelming me, crippling me.

Jericho looks around him, making sure we’re alone and then, as he cradles me from behind, he lifts my arms, circling them out in front of me and chants softly in my ear, “First.”

My feet find their position without thought and I gather the strength to straighten my body. Jericho breathes deeply and I mimic him, closing my eyes, resting against his chest and inhaling his strength.

He pulls my arms out to the side as my legs widen.

“Second.” His breath is hot on the back of my neck. It’s soothing. Reassuring. We slide into the next position, his hands guiding mine, one held high in the air, the other still out to the side.

“Third,” we both say.

We transition into fourth position and then fifth and then we repeat it all again. By the third repetition my breathing has slowed, my panic subsiding. I lean into Jericho, allowing myself the comfort of him while cursing myself for needing it.

“I just couldn’t stay in there any longer,” I whisper. “I don’t know how you’ve done it all these years.” He doesn’t say anything, but his arms wrap around my waist, holding me tight. “What if we don’t find her, Jericho? What if all this is for nothing?” I turn in his arms, twisting around to face him. “And what if we do find her? What does that mean for us?”

Jericho steps away, tugging at his bowtie. It hangs open around his neck. “I don’t know.” Running his hands through his hair, he squats, then holds his head in his hands. “I just don’t know. I never planned for you, Berkley. What’s happened between us is something I thought was impossible. But I have to hold onto the possibility that she might be out there somewhere. I don’t want to admit I’ve spent years chasing a ghost.” He’s looking at me, pleading with me. “What would I say to her? What would she say to me? The police tried to get me to file a ‘presumption of death and dissolution of marriage,’ but it meant I had to say I thought she was dead. I didn’t do it. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t look Ette in the eye and tell her I’d given up.” He drags his hands over his face then stands, stepping closer to me. “But if I had, if I’d done that, I wouldn’t be married now.” There’s true fear in his eyes. “It’s why I kept pushing you away because no matter what angle I look at it, I’m the bad guy.”

“You love her,” I say. It cuts deeply to think his heart belongs to another. I want him desperately. It physically hurts me to distance myself from him. I can’t stop thinking about him, dreaming about him. But there’s another woman out there who’s pining for him. Who’s holding out hope that he will be searching for her. Hope that he will find her.

“Yes, I love her and no, I don’t. We were never in love. Not like that. She’s like a childhood friend who I lost contact with and the thought of a reunion is both exciting and terrifying. What if they aren’t the person they used to be? What if they are? I don’t know who Hope is anymore, but I know I’ve got to keep on trying to find her. And it’s not because she’s my wife. We were so young when we got married. She was only nineteen, the same age you are now. We thought if she were married it might help with the court case. I stupidly thought I could solve all her problems, be some fucking prince in shining armor. But the next morning, the very next morning when we woke still drunk from the night before, Hope went to get us coffee. I stayed in bed. And that was when she was taken. I’ve been living with the guilt ever since.” He takes my hands in his. “I loved her fiercely, but it was, it is…” He turns away. “How do I say this without sounding like an asshole? Whatever I do I’m fucked. If I tell you I want you, if I admit that you haunt my thoughts every second of every day, who does that make me? I can’t just forsake her. But you…” He steps toward me, reaching out to cup my face. “You are everything. I never knew that I could care for someone, want someone like I want you. It was so violent and so sudden, I can’t deny it, Berkley. I won’t deny it.”

My heart thuds. Everything around me dissolves and it’s just him and I caught in a bubble where no one else exists. I’m confused and captivated. I’m frozen in his gaze, unable to escape.

Hesitantly, he lowers his mouth to mine, waiting for permission to pass over my expression. I want more than anything to melt into him, lose myself in his kiss but I can’t stop thinking about her. Wherever she is.

Is she thinking of him?

Is she waiting for him to save her?

Is she dreaming of their reunion?

“Please, Berkley,” he begs. “Give me the chance to—”

Throwing my hands around his neck, I crush my mouth against his. He grabs me immediately, pulling me tight.

“Well, this certainly explains a few things.” Michael’s voice is cold. I whirl around to find him standing on the path, arms crossed, and eyes filled with disdain. “You shouldn’t have lied. You should have told me you were fucking him. It would have saved me some effort.” Twisting on his heels, he turns and storms away.

“Michael!” I go to chase after him, but Jericho grips my arm.

“Don’t go,” he pleads. “Stay.”

I glance at Michael’s retreating back, knowing what a bruised ego can do to men like him. They don’t handle it well. Fragile masculinity.

“If I don’t go after him it could stop us from ever finding Hope.”

Jericho’s hand drops. I can see the battle in his eyes, but he doesn’t stand in my way when I lift the hem of my dress and chase after Michael.

“Michael, wait!” I call after him.

“You don’t need to explain, Everly,” he throws over his shoulder. “I get it. You didn’t want me, you just wanted a way into the business.”

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