“You’re moldable. I like that,” he’d always tell me.
Realizing we’ve run out of things to say, I sigh and check the digital clock on the other side of the room. “Looks like it’s time for me to run off to dinner too. Anderson thought we could talk shop tonight before the real work begins.” There’s a squeeze in my chest at hearing his name slip past my lips.
“Enjoy dinner.” His words are muffled as though he’s dressing as he speaks. “Report back on how the food is. I might be able to send you some care packages if need be.”
His assumption that the food is of low quality irks me. “I used to live here, remember? The food is great.” My lie feels small compared to what I feel like I’m protecting.
He chuckles like he doesn’t believe me. “Suit yourself. If you change your mind, I’ll courier over some meals from that cafe you love near the office.”
“That won’t be necessary. Goodnight, Dexter.”
“Goodnight, Hope. Oh, and don’t be afraid to show some cleavage tonight. I hear this Anderson Bexley is a lonely man. Shouldn’t be too hard to win him over.”
It takes everything in my strength to not throw my phone against the window at his questionable business ethics. Not once since we’ve known each other has he said anything remotely as offensive to me. Anger is practically steaming from my pores. “Great idea. Hell, maybe I’ll show up naked and fuck him right there in the cafeteria. That should really win him over.” I lift myself from bed.
“Don’t you fucking da—”
“Glad you don’t have time for jealous games.”
I end the call before he can finish his sentence and then power the device off for the night, maybe longer. Right now, I couldn’t give less fucks. I have a client dinner to prepare for.
Chapter Five
ANDERSON
The crunch of gravel beneath my sneakers is as haunting a sound as the minutes of silence that stretched before it. I’d never considered it a bad thing to be alone with my thoughts until the moment Hope escaped into her cabin earlier today. The sound of her door closing triggered a gamut of emotions that I’d managed to suppress.
She’s back, but that only means that I am finally facing what I chose to ignore for far too long. I’d let her leave when I only ever wanted her to stay. But how selfish would it have been to ask her for what I truly wanted while knowing a dream opportunity was waiting for her in Seattle? I couldn’t keep her from that, just like I couldn’t keep my brothers from leaving.
Besides, she had only been twenty-five—twenty-six now—but that’s ten years younger than me. Jamison was twenty-four when he made his exit. At least he’d waited for Cayson to graduate from high school and leave for the Air Force, unlike Benson, who had jetted the moment he turned eighteen. Hope couldn’t have been at all ready to make the kind of commitment to this place that I’d made. It would have only been a matter of time before she made the same decision to walk away as my brothers had. And that’s a reality that I’m forced to deal with.
I’m nearing her cabin when I see a flutter of cream curtains. Hope appears in front of the window and stands in front of the floor-length mirror. Her forehead creases as she presses her hands down her sides like she’s trying to flatten out the wrinkles of a pink blouse that was surely a victim of her luggage.
Her nose flares and her mouth parts as her chest deflates. Something deep down tells me her frustration isn’t coming from her uncooperative clothing. Her expression leads me to believe that being here is the last place on earth she wants to be.
Hesitation almost jerks me back from continuing forward, but I think better of it and take quicker steps toward her instead. The last time I gave Hope the space I thought she needed, she walked away and left a big, gaping hole in my chest. I won’t make that mistake again.
I knock twice and step back from the door, bracing myself to see Hope face-to-face again. The door starts to swing open. I’m expecting the gut punch that will inevitably come. She always took my breath away, but seeing her again has stirred a deep desire in me I’d almost forgotten.
Hope Davies is unquestionably beautiful. That much hasn’t changed. Yet, everything about her seems different.
Her light-brown hair is parted in the middle and tucked behind her ears, a change from her thick mane that was always wild and unruly while framing her face. Her bow-shaped lips wear a faint shade of pink that matches her flushed cheeks, different from the shiny coat of green-apple gloss that used to shimmer there. Her lashes appear thicker and longer now as she peers over my shoulder with those innocent greenish-blue eyes. But as stunning as she is, I can’t help but notice something is missing.
Like the way her smile used to burst through her eyes. Where is that spark in her that used to light a match under my ass every time I even thought about doubting myself? I refuse to believe that woman is gone, replaced by this new version who’s lost all sense of what made her so Hope. And I’m determined to find her.
“Ready for dinner?”
“Sure am.” Her eyes still don’t quite meet mine as she moves across the threshold to shut the door behind her. She doesn’t utter another word until we start walking toward the cafeteria. “So, what’s on the menu tonight? Mac and Cheese Surprise? Burnt onion soup?”
At least she’s still got her sense of humor, though it’s a bit drier than it used to be.
“Ah, I look forward to showing you all the things you’ve missed over the past year, particularly the quality of the food.”
Her eyes widen. “How can things get much better than cardboard pizza and still-frozen chicken nuggets?”
I narrow my eyes. Now she’s taking it too far. “Okay, things weren’t quite that bad, but you’ve made your point. The food was shit. Like I said, things are better now.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
I smile, our exchange close enough to those during our past relationship that I imagine for a second that we’re back in time. Her, getting me to lighten up. Me, showing her the ropes around camp and watching joy exude from her when she learned something new.
“So, is Seattle life everything you hoped and dreamed it would be?”
Her shoulders lift then drop. “And more.”
More. The word stings, yet it’s proof that I’d done the right thing by forcing her to leave. “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”
Her eyes flicker to mine for a moment. “What about you? Are you happy?”
I’ve always hated that question. It’s such a simple question, yet impossible to answer. Am I happy today, this moment, all the time? I think I’m happy, but how does one know?
“It’s not a loaded question, Anderson.”
It’s like she can read my mind. “No, but the answer feels loaded.”
She blows out a breath and shakes her head. “Anderson Bexley, always carrying around the weight of the world on his shoulders. Someone needs to teach you how to take a load off.”
“That was always your job.” Almost as soon as I say the words, I regret them.
Too much silence follows, the ever-present tension between us thickening with all our unsaid words. “I’m surprised you haven’t found yourself another Hope by now.” She lets out a playful laugh, but I can’t help but feel like it’s a cover for something deeper. “You know what I mean,” she adds. “An annoying puppy dog always bouncing around you, latching on to your every word, and eager to run all those errands with you.” She nudges me. “Admit it. I was the best.”