24. Chapter 24

24

Heath

I shouldn't care, but I do.

I shouldn't worry about her, but I do.

I shouldn't give two fucks, but I do.

I just fucking do.

Sitting in Business class, I'm more concentrated on Hope than the lecture. I can't think of anything else but her.

Something doesn't add up, and it keeps circling my mind.

Who was she afraid of?

Who was the person that made her cry?

How did I miss the face of that fucker?

Why was she so fucking scared?

Was it the same person who put marks on her?

Was it—

"Heath." Sebastian pushes my shoulder. I turn to glare at him, but he jerks his head toward Mr. Nathan who's looking at me with a displeased scowl.

"I asked you a question five minutes ago," he says with a displeased tone.

I glance at the whiteboard. "What was the question?"

The whole class stares at me and a few laugh as I sit clueless.

Mr. Nathan points toward the board. "I want you to explain the trend of it."

One more glance at the board and I know the answer.

Despite the fact that I give the correct answer, Mr. Nathan says, "Pay more attention next time."

After the class, Sebastian is onto me as we sneak up to the roof to skip a class. I hate Biology anyway. But more than that, it's Sebastian who suggests it. I know it has to do with me zoning out in the class. He's worried about me, which wasn't my intention. Fuck it.

"Did your dad call?" he asks, leaning back on his hands.

He and I both know he's the source of my pissed-off mood half of the time, but this time it's someone else. A girl. A pretty girl who loves to read romance books.

I look up at the sky and act nonchalant. "He calls every day."

"Then why were you looking like someone was scratching your heart out?"

That's one way to put how that pretty book nerd makes me feel.

With a sigh, I lie back on the concrete and close my eyes.

My head spins with these new feelings that float me in and out of reality.

Is this how feelings work? You're trapped in a haze of thoughts about this other person and think about them all the fucking time.

Wait a fucking second? Did I just say feelings ? I don't have feelings for Hope. Nope. Nada. None fucking at all.

Sebastian shoves me hard, and I almost hit my face against the cement floor.

Anger flares me up and I turn to him with a glare. "What the actual fuck?"

"You were zoning out again. What is wrong with you today?" He runs his eyes all over me in worry.

"Nothing's wrong with me. I'm fine," I mutter.

Pot meet kettle. No wonder it gets on my nerves when Hope says the exact same fucking words.

He scoffs, not buying my bullshit. "Yeah, right. It's every day you're lost in your thoughts and stare at the sky. You don't even like the sky."

I don't. It reminds me of how Emery is up there and looking down at me ruining my life.

No thanks. I don't need the fucking reminder.

I steer my gaze toward the hills. I'm always so calm when I'm up there. Nature manages to quiet the utter chaos in my head.

"What are feelings?" I ask and avoid looking at him. One glimpse at me and he'll know what's going on with me.

Sebastian has a rare talent for calling me out on my bullshit.

"Feelings? Are we talking about someone whose name starts with H and ends with E?" he teases.

Never mind I shouldn't have fucking asked.

"I can ask someone else if you can't answer the fucking question." There's no way I'm asking someone else.

Sebastian smirks knowing damn well I won't. "I'd like to see you try."

I groan. "Bash. Just fucking tell me, would you?"

With a chuckle, he agrees. "Fine. I'll answer."

He crosses his legs and his face gains a seriousness that I don't see often.

"Everyone will say something different, but I'll say what I've experienced. Feelings are emotions you've never experienced before. They hit you like a train. You can't stop thinking about this person. In every thought, conscious or unconscious, they sneak up on you, and no matter what you do, they don't go away. Feelings are like water. They fill in the nooks and corners that have been empty, and at the same time are enough to drown your heart. You have this overwhelming surge of desire to be with that person all the time, and risk anything to make them happy. Feelings make you do stupid stuff, nothing wise ever. You become selfish and protective. But at the same time, you are willing to let them go if someone else makes them happy." He ends with a knowing smirk directed right at me. "You can't get rid of feelings."

For fuck's sake.

"What if I direct them toward someone else?"

Sebastian sighs. "Did you not hear a word I said?"

"You made it sound like I have a terminal disease."

"Well, that's one way to put it."

I swivel my head to the sky instead of avoiding it like I have for the past year.

I have no idea if Emery can see me right now, but I hope she knows I'm hanging in there even when I don't want to. However, with the way things have been, one pretty girl might be the death of me.

Leaning against my car, I wait for Hope to step out—she's always the last one.

I fight the urge to smoke a cigarette, especially with the way she's had my head in pieces lately.

One side is yelling ‘you like her' in Sebastian's voice—which is disturbing—and the other is telling me that it's not worth it.

In a few months, I'll be off to college somewhere far away from this town and the memories that haunt me here. Of course, I'll miss my sister, but I hate living under the thumb of my father who gets information about me. I don't want anything to do with him. I want to live somewhere where he can't track me down or call me.

After what feels like a decade, Hope steps out carrying a stack of thick textbooks in her arms. Wild strands of her dark hair fly in front of her face, and she has a pen stuck to the side of her ear.

She's such a nerd.

That thought disappears when I see what she's wearing.

A plaid skirt, black stockings, and a white warmer. Underneath she's wearing her usual Converse. She looks sexy with the way those stockings hug her legs. Has she always had such long, beautiful legs, or am I fucking blind for not noticing before?

Standing in front of me she smiles at me. I clench my jaw and use every bit of my control to not look down at her sexy legs.

For fuck's sake. I've never been interested in legs before.

"How many?" She shifts those books in her arms. Without thinking, I take them from her and put them on the roof of my car.

"Thank you. They were quite heavy." She tucks her hair behind her ear.

I like it when her hair frames her face.

Fuck.

I need to get fucking therapy. This feelings bullshit is getting out of hand.

"How many what?" My voice is scratchy as it comes out.

"The orders. That's why you were waiting for me, right?" Her light brown eyes brighten up.

I lie for the life of me, so it doesn't dim. "Yes."

Handing her my phone, I see the grin that etches onto her lips like a freak.

There it is. That beautiful fucking smile.

"I got seven orders." She smiles.

She got less than before and she's still happy.

"We'll take more pictures to post and increase interaction. How many followers do you have?"

"One hundred and seven," she says with a grimace.

I don't like that sad look on her. "Not bad. Save the money and we'll use it for ads and promotion."

Hope grins at me. "You're so good at this."

"Of course, I am."

With a laugh, she opens the door and gets inside—before I can do it for her—while I watch her. I'm in so much fucking trouble.

We arrive at my house after mailing the orders. Hope is ecstatic as she gets the money from her last orders. Since she isn't eighteen she doesn't have a bank account and takes cash on delivery. I'm half tempted to ask Marie to make her a fake offshore account, but I know that shit doesn't end well. I'd hate to do that to her when she works so hard to make money.

We're on the porch when I see a big package sitting next to the door with my details on the top. I pick it up and take it into the kitchen and ask Hope to step into the living room.

"What's that, sir?" Derek comes around and scrutinizes me as I open the damn box.

"A box of—none of your fucking business." I glare at him to back off. Of course, he doesn't.

He frowns. "I believe it is my business."

This man gets on my fucking nerves.

Ignoring him, I cut open the box and peek inside. The entire collection of Harry Potter series sits in the box. I might have gone a little overboard and bought two sets; one is illustrated and the other is original.

Derek peeks over my shoulder. "Since when do you read children's books, sir?"

Immediately I close the flaps. "Step back, Derek."

Derek eyes me skeptically like he can see right through me. It annoys the shit out of me. I don't want him to see too much and figure out how certain emotions are flying inside of me when Hope is near me and how my pulse quickens. He doesn't need to know any of it.

Taking the box with me, I ask Hope to come with me upstairs. I don't like how Derek watches Hope. Last time he even dared to interrogate her. I'm sure Father Dearest already knows about Hope.

Fucking great.

I click in the lock and suddenly the air thickens.

I'm alone with Hope in my room.

The fact shouldn't bother me when it isn't my first time, but it keeps coming to the forefront of my mind like a warning sign.

My heart races. Calm the fuck down.

I place the box on the coffee table. "This is for you."

Her eyes widen. "For me? What is it?"

"See for yourself."

"You didn't need to."

"You won't be saying that after you see what's inside."

I watch as she approaches the box and looks inside.

A gasp leaves past her lips. "No… you didn't."

Retrieving the two sets, she takes out every single book.

I notice her hands are shaking.

Instead of a smile, there is a shift in the air that slows the blood flow in my veins.

Did I get it fucking wrong?

Never mind. I'll just order it again until I get it right.

Hope turns to me and tears are glistening in her eyes.

That doesn't look good. I'll get her new ones if they aren't what she wants. I'll get her—

Running up to me, she knocks straight into my chest like a lightning bolt. Electric shocks jam every single nerve in my body. I can hardly breathe.

How the fuck does breathing work?

I'm still processing her proximity, when her thin arms wrap around my waist tightly, and her body is pressed flush against mine.

I feel my heart jump, but she decides it's not enough fucking damage, so she lies her head over my shoulder. Very close to my fast-beating heart.

Lavender scent. Warm body. Soft skin.

My heart skips beats like one does when jumping through a pond over stones.

She sniffles and my chest tightens.

My hackles rise. "What's wrong?"

"Everything."

"Tell me. I'll fix it."

"You already did."

I'm beyond confused. "A little more fucking clarification please."

She rests her chin on my chest and looks up at me with her teary eyes. "You got me the entire series. I've been waiting for it since I was eight."

I stay quiet. Too stunned by her reaction.

"Why did you do it?" she asks.

"It was on sale." The lie rolls over my tongue so smoothly even I'm impressed.

I did it because she wanted it . When she told me, all I could think about was getting her those books. They cost a lot, but it doesn't matter. Nothing else matters when it comes to her.

Hope doesn't reply, and I'm in doubt whether she's caught my lie.

My arms stay plastered to my sides. This isn't how a hug is supposed to be. Maybe I should return it.

On that vague thought, I lift my arms and hesitantly put them over her back. At the feel of her body, my hands twitch.

I gulp hard to swallow the fountain of emotions climbing my throat like a damn viper.

Fuck. This feels good.

Hope sniffles on my shoulder. "Thank you so much." Long gone are her tears—thank God, I don't know how to deal with them—and instead, there is a smile that hits me straight in the heart.

"It's nothing."

"It's something."

Stepping away from me—much to my dislike—she hurries to her new stack of books, flipping through pages and running her hands over the covers.

A dreamy look flashes across her face.

She really is something . I've never seen anyone look at books the way she does. It's like they're a breath of fresh air, or perhaps the most beautiful artifact of the world that she'll treasure for the rest of her life.

I can't put into words what she looks like when she holds books, but there is a word I can use for her.

Enchanting.

I stare long at her and realize how serene I feel when she's doing something as mundane as reading a book.

"The illustrated covers are so pretty," she gushes as she aligns them over the table.

"I guess," I murmur, not knowing what else to say.

I don't find books as enchanting as she does. But I find her enchanting.

"Look at these original covers." With giddy happiness, she brings the book to my face and forces me to look at it. A month ago, I wouldn't have thought my life would come to this.

"Old is gold."

A giggle pulls out of her, and she doesn't comment on my dry humor.

With each book she picks up, more life descends into her, and I'm standing here, thinking how the fuck did I get myself into this mess?