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Not saying anything to him, I grab my phone as my dad rings again. “Leo, you have a meeting with—”
"Yes, Dad I know and I'm on my way." I have no idea why I have to even sit there and listen to them. I signed the papers, and nothing else matters now.
“Pleaselisten to them.”
“I will.” I end the call and grab the file to refresh my memory on their pitch. I can’t even remember if I looked at it in the first place or not.
I’ve been looking for a man I want to kill; now I want to know everything about Hope. So, I don’t even have a second to think about anything else. I close my eyes just to give my mind a second to rest. But no matter what, I’ll always only breathe in the dark air around me and never anything else.
* * *
Well, the pitch was longer than it needed to be and I think I took in three words of what they were saying; told the marketing manager to take over the idea and work with them. I never work with any team, that's never been my thing. I sign and leave.
I called the house a few times but Hope never picked up, I didn't think she would, but still there was a chance. Maybe the noise of the ring would annoy her enough to answer, but nothing.
Walking into the house, I take in a deep breath as I smell dinner. After throwing my keys on the table next to the front door, I make my way through the house. She's been cleaning again. Even though I had a cleaner before Hope came here, there's something different about her cleaning. You can really see it. Stopping by the door, I watch her on her hands and knees wiping the floor clean. But she stops; she can feel me close. Keeping her head down, she stands up. I wish I knew what this whole thing about looking down was, because I could look at her face all day if she let me.
“First of all Hope, you don’t have to clean the house; second, if you want to that’s fine, but we have a mop.” I walk over to her. “I also have a maid to clean,” I remind her again. I haven’t brought her here to clean my house. I’ve brought her here to help her.
"It...I…" I hear her breathing a little louder. "I'm sorry," she says in the softest voice. I have no idea what she's saying sorry for, but I get a feeling that now is not the time to ask her. Taking a look around the kitchen, I see the oven is on, and I hear the dryer from the utility room.So, she’s even washed my clothes. What makes her think for a second that this is what I want from her? "I thought you were coming back later, food will still be an hour," Hope says taking a step back from me like she's scared of how I'm going to react about it.
“Thank you for making dinner, it smells amazing,” I say, taking my phone out of my pocket as it starts ringing. “What did you find out?” I ask Jackson as I take my suit jacket off. I turn to Hope as she takes it from my hands and places it on the chair for me.
"Well, Uncle Jack hasn't been seen by his son in five years. He said once his mom died, his dad just left and if we find him to kill him for leaving him and his sister alone," he tells me, and I sit on the chair.
"Hold on Jackson." I bring the phone to my shoulder and look over at Hope. "I'll keep an eye on dinner. You go have a shower, freshen up." Her body tightens up, and her fingers tap her thigh like she's fighting with herself about something. I watch her walk away and as soon as I hear the door close I get back to Jackson. "Did he say why he left?"
“No, he said that he woke up to find a letter saying that he could no longer do this and he had to leave.” Grabbing a cigarette, I light it and inhale deeply. “I asked about Hope,” Jackson adds.
“What did he say?”
“Told me he only saw her once, they had to go on vacation for the weekend. She arrived the day they were going and when they returned she was gone.”
How can someone just go missing that fast? What the fuck did he do to Hope for her to run in two days? "Find me someone for tomorrow," I tell him and then I end the call and throw my phone on the table.
I can't help but think about her, what has she been through for her to shut herself off from the world the way she has. I know the world is a fucked up place, I’ve been through it I know, but Hope’s been through so much more, and I want to find out what, so I can help her.
A beeping sound to my left takes me out of my thoughts. Walking over to the oven, I turn the timer off and take out the oven dish to see what Hope has cooked. Lamb with potatoes and veggies and it smells incredible.
I knock on Hope’s door, nothing. Slowly opening it, I walk in and sit on the bed as I hear the bathroom door open. She exits with her head high but then drops the moment she feels me in the room.
“Dinner’s ready.”
I see her nod as she leaves the room, I look around the room for a moment, and my focus moves to the bathroom, and I pull my eyebrows together.
Where’s the steam?I head into the bathroom; something doesn’t fit right with me. Opening the shower, I place my hand on the floor.She had a fucking cold shower. I clutch my hands into fists. Why the fuck is she having a cold shower when it's not good for her? I can feel my blood boiling with anger. I'm giving her everything here, and she's not taking it, and I want to know why.
Punching the mirror out of rage, I hear the broken glass pieces scatter into the sink. I hold onto the countertop for support.
I need her to talk to me; I need her to let me help her. Wiping my hand with a towel as the blood starts escaping from my cuts; I make my way to the dining table.
I see Hope plating her food then taking a seat. I look at the two plates placed on the table, mine is full and hers empty with her fork ready to take that one mouthful. I place my hands on the table and close my eyes. If I go hard on her now, she could run, but I can’t help it. I need to focus on something else for a moment, or could the toughness work?
I open my eyes when I feel something cold on my knuckles, turning to face Hope wipes my hand when more blood appears. She takes something out of the first aid box. I don’t see what as I keep my eyes on her. I might not be able to see her full face, but I can see her right side. I take every little detail. I watch her eye wrinkle on the side as she focuses on my hand. I look down at my hand as she walks away from me, backing up to put the box away. Then she sits down and I push my plate away.
“If that’s all you’re eating, then that’s all I’m eating,” I tell her. I know that I might act like the big bad wolf and bite what needs to be bitten, but not with her, not with Hope.
I get up and take her plate to the kitchen, I place more food on it, then take it back and place it in front of her again and she just stares. I put the fork to her mouth and she opens for me and takes the first one without fighting. I bring the second forkful and nothing.
