34. Chapter 34

34

Heath

Hope is ignoring me.

She thinks I'm a fucking fool if I don't notice, but I do.

I notice everything when it comes to her.

So, it amuses me when she thinks she's invisible, but she's all I can see.

She tries to blend in the background, but I'd pick her up even in a kaleidoscope of colors. She's anything but a shade that's supposed to not capture your attention. My attention.

It's been three fucking days.

Three days of absolute shit.

I can't concentrate on shit. In the two classes that we share, I try to meet her gaze, but she refuses to look at me.

I haven't looked in her eyes for three days and it's driving me fucking insane.

No one has ever affected me this much. No one.

The pretty book nerd has me going insane over her.

I know her routine by now; she arrives late at school, sits away from me, spends lunch in the library saying she has tests, and then leaves school early.

It's the same shit every day.

Today, I'm putting an end to it.

I'm going to ask her what the fuck is wrong? She thinks I don't notice how one side of her cheek is a little swollen and red, and the way she keeps her distance from everyone and doesn't say a word when she's with us.

Entering the mass of students in the hallway, I glare at a few to clear my path. They all cower away from me.

Thursday is as busy as every other school day. The hallway is filled with people who can't stop talking.

Marie and Sebastian are standing next to Marie's locker, keeping an eye on me. Marie is also worried for Hope and has been driving Sebastian and me crazy with her plans to help Hope. I swear, if she comes to know about my abuse theory, she'll be raging a storm on the two of us.

Leaning against my locker, I narrow my gaze on Hope who's collecting books from her locker. She's in a white sweater and jeans that fit her ass perfectly—yes I'm fucking staring at it. Her hair is down, and the dark tresses frame her face, hiding that red cheek from my view. Good . Otherwise, it'd piss me off.

The second she slams her locker shut, I'm striding in her direction. She never sees me coming, which works because she can't run away from me like she's been doing lately. I take hold of her wrist and slip us into the nearest classroom and close the door.

Turning around, I face her, only to see her wide eyes and pale face. That's not how I wanted her to look at me after three fucking days.

I put distance between us to prove my point. "I'm not going to hurt you, Rose."

"I know," she says, holding tightly to the Harry Potter novel. I have no idea what book number it is because she hasn't updated me. That worsens my mood even more.

She's supposed to tell me about the books she reads.

"Then why do you look fucking terrified?"

"I'm not. I'm fine."

"You are not fucking fine," I burst out in frustration.

Instantly, she looks down at her shoes.

Fuck. This was not what I wanted.

Striding toward her, I stop when I'm right in front of her. There's a little distance between us that I want to erase, but I won't until she gives me a sign.

Putting my index finger under her chin, I lift her face so she's looking at me.

"Why are you ignoring me?" I ask.

"I—"

"Stop ignoring me. It fucking bothers me."

A shaky breath leaves her lips and falls over my finger.

"It…bothers you?" Her brown eyes peer up at me in surprise.

Fuck. I adore those fucking eyes.

"You have no fucking idea just how much," I say.

"Why?" she asks, her eyes trained on me, searching for answers.

I lean down, slowly, waiting to see if I'm making her uncomfortable. When she doesn't step back, I proceed until I'm a few inches away from her face.

"Because I fucking care about you, Rose. Don't you already know that?"

"I…"

"Tell me what's wrong so I can fix it."

She falters, but I catch her by holding her arm. "Wh-what?"

"Whatever it is that's bothering you, I'll make it go away for you. I'll do anything for you. You just tell me what's fucking wrong. I'll take care of it, Rose."

I can't stop myself from calling her Rose. It's my nickname for her.

She shakes her head. "You can't. You just can't ." She sounds defeated.

Ignoring her words, I caress her red cheek tenderly, so I'm not hurting her at all.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore."

"How did you get this one?"

She begs me with her eyes. "Door."

Bullshit.

"I didn't know a door could have fucking hands."

She slips from my hold and puts distance between us. Not fucking good.

"I need to go."

I block her path. "We need to talk—"

"There's nothing to talk about."

I take a step forward and she takes one backward. It continues until her back hits the desk and she has nowhere to go. Putting my hands on either side of her waist, I trap her. Her fingers tighten around the book but her eyes stare at my chest.

"Will you please look at me?" I ask, lowering my voice.

Hope tilts her head back and meets my gaze for a second, then looks away.

Deciding to put an end to this bullshit, I lift my hand to tip her chin, but she flinches.

Tremors shake her body as her hands shield her face.

Stunned, I push back from her.

My brain short circuits.

For fuck's sake.

Someone is physically abusing her.

I was right.

"You thought I was going to hurt you," I grit out.

The shock makes my breathing stutter.

Her teary eyes and heaving chest make my knees weak.

Everything in me wants to step closer, but I know it'll set her off in the worst way possible. She'll think of me as a threat and try to escape—

Too fucking late.

Side-stepping me, she rushes out of the room, while I stand there and watch.

I can catch her.

But I don't.

In the evening, I arrive at the underground, burning with the desire to fight someone.

My mind can't rest. I'm certain I've lost it with how irritated I am tonight.

My opponent lands a few sloppy hits on me, pulling my attention to him.

Usually, the shouts and cheers of raging men are a blur when I'm in the ring. My opponent is the only thing I can focus on. Tonight, that's not the case.

When he aims for my stomach, a dull ache permeates there.

Shooting him a glare, I swing my arm and break his nose. Blood droplets follow through and he stumbles back.

I don't stop.

With hit after hit I turn him blue and black until he signals the speaker who calls off the match.

I'm still heaving in anger, itching to get another fight, when Sebastian's peculiar gaze from the crowd puts a stop to my plan.

The speaker makes my victory announcement, I walk out.

Sebastian follows me silently to the room, but I can feel the tension radiating off him. He's worried for me—the last thing I want him to be.

I sit down on the floor and chug down an entire water bottle.

I'm burning with heat. The erratic beats of my heart roar in my ears like a drum. Still, my mind is unable to steer away from the teary brown eyes I saw today. Whenever I close my eyes, they appear right in front of me.

The way she flinched, stiffened, and refused to meet my gaze.

I can't stop thinking about it.

I want to punch the bastard who hurt Hope. I want to break his bones and make him feel the same way Hope does. For the first time, I want to use my strength and fighting skills to hurt someone.

I won't feel one bit of remorse. I never do.

Some people don't deserve kindness or mercy. Unfortunately for him, I won't grant him either.

I don't know what I'll do if it's a woman. She won't be receiving mercy from me though. I'll get Marie to beat her or better yet hire someone. I'll make her pay for hurting Hope. I'll make anyone pay for hurting her.

Sebastian takes a seat next to me. "For the first time, I don't like the look in your eye."

I break out of my thoughts and realize that my hands are shaking.

I'm on the edge of getting to the bottom of this matter without asking Hope. I just want to know.

"I'm fine," I grumble.

"That's not what I said, is it?"

"That's my fucking answer."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Sebastian puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. I'm half tempted to break his wrist, but I swallow the urge. He's looking out for me like he always does.

"You know, I'll always stand by your side. You're my best friend, James." Sebastian only calls me by my middle name when he's dead serious about something. He knows I hate it because Emery used to call me that all the time. But on occasion I let him slip up. Maybe because I miss being called that.

Looking over at him, I give him a confident nod. "I know."

"Then what's up?"

"Nothing."

"You're a tough dough."

"It's cookie."

"That's reserved for sweet people. You're bitter."

"I'm not bitter," I grit out.

Sebastian arches an eyebrow. "Don't get offended now."

I sigh and look away.

He bumps his head against the wall and sighs heavily. "How many times do I have to ask before you surrender?"

I smirk. "A million."

"Challenge accepted." I hear the smile in his reply.

Just like he said, he eats my brain all the way home. I thought he'd shut up, but he kept chanting ‘what's wrong' in my face.

My patience snaps. I end up telling him everything.

His stupid idea of befriending Hope and gaining her trust isn't working. That idea sank worse than the Titanic. Of course, it would have. It was Sebastian's idea, after all.

I was right. I should've dealt with this matter head-first. Now things have gotten worse.

Hope has created a shell around her. A concrete exterior that keeps growing day by day.

I can't understand how anyone can hurt Hope. She's the sweetest and kindest person I know. I've been an asshole to her on occasions—about which I feel terrible—but she always tries to help me.

On my birthday when I made her cry, she still returned. She's that good.

Sebastian sits down on the couch. We're in my room so we can have this conversation without anyone bothering us or eavesdropping on us.

"Why don't we invite her here and just ask her?" he asks.

I shoot him a glare. "She doesn't tell me, what makes you think she'll speak in front of you guys?"

"Maybe she'll see that we are there for her."

The thought of Hope telling him and Marie upsets me. It sounds selfish but I want to be the one she confides in.

"I don't know." I run a hand through my hair.

"You really like her, James."

I don't. The words are right on my tongue, but I can't get them out. I just fucking can't.

"Do you have a point asking that?" I ask indignantly.

With a teasing smile, he shakes his head. "No. Not at all. I just needed to see something."

We stare at each other, and I know he can see it all in my eyes. He knows what I feel for this girl. How long I've fought to not feel whatever it is that I'm feeling. He understands why she matters to me and why I'm at war with myself about protecting her.

I clear my throat. "It's late. You should go home."

"Marie is busy tonight. So, I don't have a reason to go home. If you want me gone, I'll go."

No. I don't want him gone. I never want him gone.

I stand up from the bed and grab my gloves from the desk. "Let's spar then."

Sebastian grins evilly. "Want to get beat up?"

"You wish." I scowl.

"I do. I wish for it badly."

"That's all you'll ever do."

"Don't get cocky. You're not that good."

"Fine. I challenge you to touch me."

"I have a girlfriend, Heath."

I close my eyes in frustration. "Dickhead."

"I heard that."

We enter the gym and wrap our knuckles. Stepping onto the mat we're at each other. But still, a certain book nerd is all I can think about.