Hopeless (29 page)

I’m sweating because it’s hot under these covers, but I don’t want to take them off my head. I know if the door opens, it won’t matter if I have covers on or not, but I feel safer with them on anyway. I poke my fingers out and lift the piece of cover up that’s in front of my eyes. I look at the doorknob like I do every night.

Don’t turn. Don’t turn. Please, don’t turn.

It’s always so quiet in my room and I hate it. Sometimes I hear things that I think might be the doorknob turning and it makes my heart beat really hard and really fast. Right now, just staring at the doorknob is making my heart beat really hard and really fast, but I can’t stop staring at it. I don’t want it to turn. I don’t want that door to open, I don’t.

Everything is so quiet.

So quiet.

The doorknob doesn’t turn.

My heart stops beating so fast, because the doorknob never turns.

My eyes get really heavy and I finally close them.

I’m so glad that tonight’s not one of the nights that the doorknob turns.

It’s so quiet.

So quiet.

And then it’s not, because the doorknob turns
.

“Sky.”

I’m so heavy. Everything is so heavy. I don’t like this feeling. There isn’t anything physically on my chest, but I feel a pressure unlike anything I’ve ever felt. And sadness. An overwhelming sadness is consuming me, and I have no idea why. My shoulders are shaking and there are sobs coming from somewhere in the room. Who’s crying?

Am
I
crying?

“Sky, wake up.”

I feel his arm around me. His cheek is pressed against mine and he’s behind me, holding me tightly against his chest. I grab his wrist and lift his arm off of me. I sit up on the bed and look around. It’s dark outside. I don’t get it. I’m crying.

He sits up beside me and turns me toward him, brushing at my eyes with his thumbs.

“You’re scaring me, babe.” He’s looking at me and he’s worried. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to regain control, because I have no idea what the hell is happening and I can’t breathe. I can hear myself crying and I can’t inhale a breath because of it.

I look at the clock on the nightstand and it says three. Things are starting to come back into focus now, but…why am I crying?

“Why are you crying, babe?” Holder asks. He pulls me to him and I let him. He feels safe. He feels like home when I’m wrapped up in him. He holds me and rubs my back, kissing the side of my head every now and then. He keeps saying, “Don’t worry,” over and over and he holds me for what feels like forever.

The weight gradually lifts off my chest, the sadness dissipates and I’m eventually no longer crying.

I’m scared though, because nothing like this has ever happened to me before. Never in my life have I felt sadness this unbearable, so how could it feel so real from a dream?

“You okay?” he whispers.

I nod against his chest.

“What happened?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I guess it was a bad dream.”

“Want to talk about it?” He soothes my hair with his hands.

I shake my head. “No. I don’t want to remember it.”

He hugs me for a long time, then kisses me on the forehead. “I don’t want to leave you, but I need to go. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

I nod, but I don’t release my grip. I want to beg him not to leave me alone, but I don’t want to sound desperate and terrified. People have bad dreams all the time; I don’t understand why I’m responding like this.

“Go back to sleep, Sky. Everything’s okay, you just had a bad dream.”

I lay back down on the bed and close my eyes. I feel his lips brush against my forehead, and then he’s gone.

I give both Breckin and Max a hug in the parking lot of the gallery. The gallery showing has ended and Holder and I are going back to his place. I know I should be nervous about what might happen between us tonight, but I’m not nervous at all. Everything with him feels right. Well, everything except the phrase that keeps repeating over and over in my head.

I love you, Hope.

I want to ask him about it, but I can’t find the right moment. The gallery showing certainly wasn’t the place to bring it up. Now seems like a good time, but every time I open my mouth to do it, I clamp it shut again. I think I’m more afraid of who she is and what she means to him than I am of actually working up the nerve to bring it up. The longer I put off asking him about it, the longer I have before I’m forced to learn the truth.

“You want to grab something to eat?” he asks, pulling out of the parking lot.

“Yeah,” I say quickly, relieved that he interrupted my thoughts. “A cheeseburger sounds good. And cheese fries. And I want a chocolate milkshake.”

He laughs and takes my hand in his. “A little demanding are we, Princess?”

I let go of his hand and turn to face him. “Don’t call me that,” I snap.

He glances at me and can more than likely see the anger on my face, even in the dark.

“Hey,” he says soothingly, picking up my hand again. “I don’t think you’re demanding, Sky. It was a joke.”

I shake my head. “Not demanding. Don’t call me princess. I hate that word.”

He gives me a sidelong glance, then shifts his eyes back to the road. “Okay.”

I turn my gaze out the window, trying to get the word out of my head. I don’t know why I hate nicknames so much, but I do. And I know I overreacted just now, but he can never call me that again. He also shouldn’t call me by the name of any of his ex-girlfriend’s either. He should just stick to Sky…it’s much safer.

We drive in complete silence and I become increasingly more regretful for reacting like I did. If anything, I should be more upset by the fact that he called me by another girl’s name than by referring to me as Princess. It’s almost like I’m displacing my anger because I’m too afraid to bring up what’s really bothering me. Honestly, I just want a drama-free night with him tonight. There’ll be plenty of time to ask him about Hope another day.

“I’m sorry, Holder.”

He squeezes my hand and pulls it onto his lap, but doesn’t say anything else.

When we pull into his driveway, I get out of the car. We never did stop for food, but I don’t even feel like bringing it up now. He meets me at the passenger door and wraps his arms around me and I hug him back. He walks me until my back is against the car and I press my head to his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. The awkwardness from the drive here still lingers, so I attempt to ease myself against him in a relaxing way to let him know I’m not thinking about it. He’s lightly stroking his fingers up and down my arms, covering me in chills.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

“Always.”

He sighs, then pulls back and looks at me. “Did I freak you out Monday? In my car? If I did, I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I’m not a pussy, I swear. I haven’t cried since Les died, and I sure as hell didn’t mean to do it in front of you.”

I lean my head into his chest again and hug him tighter. “You know last night when I woke up after that dream?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s the second time I’ve cried since I was five. The only other time I cried was when you told me about what happened to your sister. I cried when I was in the bathroom. It was just one tear, but it counts. I think when we’re together, maybe our emotions become a little overwhelming and it turns us
both
into pussies.”

He laughs and kisses me on top of the head. “I have a feeling I won’t be living you for much longer.” He gives me another quick kiss, then takes my hand. “Ready for the grand tour?”

I follow him toward his house, but I’m still stuck on the fact that he just told me he’s about to stop living me. If he stops living me, that means he’ll be loving me. He just confessed that he’s falling in love with me without actually saying it. The most shocking thing about his confession is that I really liked it.

We walk inside and the house is nothing like I expected. It doesn’t seem very big from the outside, but there’s a foyer. Normal houses don’t have foyers. There’s an archway to the right that leads to a living room. The entire walls are covered in nothing but books, and I feel like I’ve just died and gone to heaven. “Wow,” I say, eyeing the bookshelves in the living room. Books are stacked on shelves from floor to ceiling on every single wall.

“Yeah,” he says. “Mom was pretty pissed when they invented the e-reader.”

I laugh. “I think I already like your mom. When do I get to meet her?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t introduce girls to my mother.” His voice is as detached as his words, and as soon as he says it, his expression drops and he knows he’s just hurt my feelings. He walks swiftly to me and takes my face in his hands. “No, no. That’s not what I meant. I’m not saying you’re anything like the other girls I’ve dated. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

I hear what he’s saying, but we’ve been dating as long as we have and he still isn’t convinced it’s real enough for me to meet his mother? I wonder if we’ll
ever
be real enough to him for me to meet his mother.

“Did Hope get to meet her?” I know I shouldn’t have said it, but I couldn’t keep it in any longer. Especially now, hearing him say “other girls.” I’m not delusional; I know he dated other people before he met me. I just don’t like hearing him say it. Much less calling me by their names.

“What?”
he asks, dropping his hands. He’s backing away from me. “Why did you say that?” The color is draining from his face and I immediately regret saying it.

“Never mind. It’s nothing. I don’t have to meet your mom.” I just want whatever this is to pass. I knew I wouldn’t feel like talking about it tonight. I want to get back to the house tour and forget this conversation ever happened.

He grabs my hands and says it again. “Why would you say that, Sky? Why did you say that name?”

I shake my head. “It’s not that big of a deal. You were drunk.”

He narrows his eyes at me and it’s clear I’m not escaping this conversation. I sigh and reluctantly give in, clearing my throat before I speak.

“Last night when you were falling asleep…you told me you loved me. But you called me Hope, so you weren’t really talking to
me
. You’d been drinking and you were half asleep, so I don’t need an explanation. I don’t know if I really even want to know why you said it.”

He brings his hands to his hair and groans. “Sky.” He steps forward, taking me in his arms. “I’m so sorry. It must have been a stupid dream. I don’t even know anyone named Hope and I’ve definitely never had an ex-girlfriend by that name if that’s what you were thinking. I’m so sorry that happened. I should have never gone to your house drunk.” He looks down at me and as much as my instincts are telling me he’s lying, his eyes are completely sincere. “You have to believe me. It’ll kill me if you think for a second that I feel anything at all for someone else. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

Every word coming from his mouth is dripping with sincerity and honesty. Considering I can’t even remember why I woke up crying, it’s possible his sleep talking really was the result of a random dream. And hearing everything he just said to me puts into perspective just how serious things are becoming between us.