Hopeless (Hopeless #1)

My heart is racing and my breaths begin to come in short gasps. Tears sting at my eyes as his hand moves around beside us on the bed, searching for the condom. He finds it and I hear him open it, but I’m squeezing my eyes shut. I can feel him pull back and lift up onto his knees. I know he’s putting it on and I know what comes next. I know how it feels and I know how much it hurts and I know how it’ll make me cry when it’s over.

But how do I know? How do I know if I’ve never done this before?

My lips begin to tremble when he positions himself between my legs again. I try to think of something to take away the fear, so I visualize the sky and the stars and how beautiful it all is, attempting to ease my panic. If I remind myself that the sky is beautiful no matter what, I can think about that and forget how ugly this is. I don’t want to open my eyes, so I just count silently inside my head. I visualize the stars above my bed and I start from the bottom of the cluster, working my way up.

One, two, three…

I count and I count and I count.

Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four…

I hold my breath and focus, focus, focus on the stars.

Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine…

I want him to be done already. I just want him off of me.

Seventy-one, seventy-two, seventy-

“Dammit, Sky!” Holder yells. He’s pulling my arm away from my eyes. I don’t want him to make me look, so I hold my arm tighter against my face so everything will stay dark and I can keep silently counting.

All of the sudden, my back is being lifted up in the air and I’m not against the pillow anymore. My arms are limp and his are wrapped tightly around me, but I can’t move. My arms are too weak and I’m sobbing too hard. I’m crying so hard and he’s moving me and I don’t know why so I open my eyes. I’m going back and forth and back and forth and for a second, I panic and squeeze my eyes shut, thinking he’s not finished. But I can feel the covers around me and his arm is squeezing my back and he’s soothing my hair with his hand, whispering in my ear.

“Baby, it’s okay.” He’s pressing his lips into my hair, rocking me back and forth with him. I open my eyes again and tears are clouding my vision. “I’m sorry, Sky. I’m so sorry.”

He’s kissing the side of my head over and over while he rocks me, telling me he’s sorry. He’s apologizing for something. Something he wants me to forgive him for this time.

He pulls back and sees that my eyes are open. His eyes are red but I don’t see any tears. He’s shaking though. Or maybe it’s me who’s shaking. I think we’re both shaking.

He’s looking into my eyes, searching for something. Searching for me. I begin to relax in his arms, because when his arms are wrapped around me, I don’t feel like I’m falling off the edge of the earth. “What happened?” I ask him. I don’t understand where this is coming from.

He shakes his head, his eyes full of sorrow and fear and regret. “I don’t know. You just started counting and crying and shaking and I kept trying to get you to stop, Sky. You wouldn’t stop. You were terrified. What did I do? Tell me baby, because I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry. What the f*ck did I do?”

I just shake my head because I don’t have an answer.

He grimaces and drops his forehead to mine. “I’m so sorry. I never should have let it go that far. I don’t know what the hell just happened, but you’re not ready yet, okay?”

I’m not ready yet?

“So we didn’t…we didn’t have sex?”

His hands loosen around me and I can feel his whole demeanor shift. The look in his eyes is nothing but loss and defeat. His eyebrows draw apart and he frowns, cupping my cheeks. “Where’d you go, Sky?”

I shake my head, confused. “I’m right here. I’m listening.”

“No, I mean earlier. Where’d you go? You weren’t here with me because no, nothing happened. I could see on your face that something was wrong, so I didn’t do it. But now you need to think long and hard about where you were inside that head of yours, because you were panicked. You were hysterical and I need to know what it was that took you there so I can make sure you never go back.”

He kisses me on the forehead and releases his hold from around my back. He stands up and pulls his jeans on, then picks up my dress. He shakes it out, then flips it over until it slides down his hands, then he walks toward me and puts it on over my head. He lifts my arms and helps me slide them into the dress, then he pulls it down over my waist, covering me. “I’ll go get you some water. I’ll be right back.” He kisses me tentatively on the lips, almost as if he’s scared to touch me again. After he walks out of the room, I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes.

I have no idea what just happened, but the fear of losing him because of it is a valid one. I just took one of the most intimate things imaginable, and I turned it into a disaster. I made him feel worthless, like he did something wrong and now he feels bad for me because of it. He probably wants me to leave, and I don’t blame him. I don’t blame him a bit. I want to run away from me, too.

I throw the covers off and stand up, then pull my dress down. I don’t even bother looking for my underwear. I need to find the bathroom and get myself together so he can take me home. This is twice this weekend that I’ve been deduced to tears and I don’t even know why—and twice that he’s had to save me. I’m not doing it to him again.

When I pass the stairs looking for the restroom, I glance down over the railing into the kitchen. He’s leaning forward with his elbows on the bar and his face buried in his hands. He’s just standing there, looking miserable and upset. I can’t watch him anymore, so I open the first door to my right, assuming it’s the bathroom.

It’s not.

It’s Lesslie’s bedroom. I start to pull the door shut, but I don’t. Instead, I open it wider and slip inside, then shut it behind me. I don’t care if I’m in a bathroom, a bedroom or a closet…I just need peace and quiet. Time to regroup from whatever the hell is going on with me. I’m beginning to think that maybe I am crazy. I’ve never spaced out that severely before and it terrifies me. My hands are still shaking, so I clasp them together in front of me and try to focus on something else in order to calm myself down.

I take in my surroundings and find the bedroom to be somewhat disturbing. The bed isn’t made, which strikes me as odd. Holder’s entire house is spotless, but Lesslie’s bed isn’t made. There’s a pair of jeans in the middle of the floor and it looks like she just stepped out of them. I look around at the room and it seems typical of a teenage girl. Makeup on the dresser, an iPod on the nightstand. It looks like she still lives here. From the look of her room, it doesn’t look like she’s gone at all. It’s obvious no one has touched this room since she died. Her pictures are all still hanging on the walls and stuck to her vanity mirror. All of her clothes are still in her closet, some piled in the closet floor. It’s been over a year since he said she passed away, and I’m willing to bet that no one in his family has accepted it yet.

It feels eerie being in here, but it’s keeping my mind off of what’s happening right now. I walk to the bed and look at the pictures hanging on the wall. Most of them are of Lesslie and her friends with just a few of Holder and her together. She looks a lot like Holder with his intense, crystal blue eyes and dark brown hair. What surprises me the most is how happy she looks. She looks so content and full of life in every single picture, it’s hard to imagine what was really going on inside of her head. No wonder Holder didn’t have a clue about how desolate she really felt. She more than likely never let anyone know.

I pick up a picture from her nightstand that’s turned facedown. When I flip it over and look at it, I gasp. It’s a picture of her kissing Grayson on the cheek and they have their arms around each other. The picture stuns me and I have to take a seat on the bed to regain my bearings. This is why Holder hates him so much? This is why he didn’t want him touching me? I wonder if he blames Grayson for what she did.

I’m holding the picture, still sitting on the bed, when the bedroom door opens. Holder peers around the door. “What are you doing?” He doesn’t seem angry that I’m in here. He does seem uncomfortable, though, which is probably just a reaction from how I made him feel earlier.

“I was looking for the bathroom,” I say, quietly. “I’m sorry. I just needed a second.”

He leans against the doorway and crosses his arms over his chest while his eyes work their way around the room. He’s taking in everything like I am. Like it’s all new to him.

“Has no one been in here? Since she…”

“No,” he says quickly. “What would be the point of it? She’s gone.”

I nod, then place the picture of Lesslie and Grayson back on the nightstand, facedown like she had left it. “Was she dating him?”

He takes a hesitant step into the bedroom, then walks over to the bed. He sits down beside me and rests his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands in front of him. He looks around the room slowly, not answering my question right away. He glances at me, then wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me to him. The fact that he’s sitting here with me right now, still wanting to hold me, makes me want to burst into tears.

“He broke up with her the night before she did it,” he says quietly.

I try not to gasp, but his words shock me. “Do you think he’s the reason why she did it? Is that why you hate him so much?”

He shakes his head. “I hated him before he broke up with her. He put her through a lot of shit, Sky. And no, I don’t think he’s why she did it. I think maybe it was the deciding factor in a decision she had wanted to make for a long time. She had issues way before Grayson ever came into the picture. So no, I don’t blame him. I never have.” He stands up and takes my hand. “Come on. I don’t want to be in here anymore.”

I take one last glance around the room, then stand up to follow him. I stop before we reach the door, though. He turns around and watches me observe the pictures on her dresser. There’s a framed picture of Holder and Lesslie when they were kids. I pick it up and bring it in closer for inspection. Something about seeing him that young makes me smile. Seeing both of them that young...it’s refreshing. Like there’s innocence about them before the ugly realities of life hit. They’re standing in front of a white-framed house and Holder has his arm around her neck and he’s squeezing her. She’s got her arms wrapped around his waist and they’re smiling at the camera.

My eyes move from their faces to the house behind them in the photo. It’s a white-framed house with yellow trim and if you were to see the inside of the house, the living room is painted two different shades of green.

I immediately close my eyes. How do I know that? How do I know what color the living room is?

My hands start shaking and I try to suck in a breath, but I can’t. How do I know that house? I know that house like I somehow suddenly know the kids in the picture. How do I know there’s a green and white swing set behind that house? And ten feet from the swing set is a dry well that has to stay covered because Lesslie’s cat fell down it once.

“You okay?” Holder says. He tries to take the picture out of my hands, but I snatch it from him and look up at him. His eyes are concerned and he takes a step toward me. I take a step back.

How do I know him?

How do I know Lesslie?

Why do I feel like I miss them? I shake my head, looking down at the picture and back up at Holder, then down to the picture again. This time, Lesslie’s wrist catches my eye. She’s wearing a bracelet. A bracelet identical to mine.

I want to ask him about it but I can’t. I try, but nothing comes out, so I just hold up the picture instead. He shakes his head and his face drops like his heart is breaking. “Sky, no,” he says, pleadingly.

“How?” My voice cracks and is barely audible. I look back down to the picture in my hands. “There’s a swing set. And a well. And…your cat. It got stuck in the well.” I dart my eyes up to his and the thoughts keep pouring out. “Holder, I know that living room. The living room is green and the kitchen had a countertop that was way too tall for us and…your mother. Your mother’s name is Beth.” I pause and try to take a breath, because the memories won’t stop. They won’t stop coming and I can’t breathe. “Holder…is Beth your mother’s name?”

Holder grimaces and runs his hands through his hair. “Sky…” he says. He can’t even look at me. His expression is torn and confused and he’s…he’s been lying to me. He’s holding something back and he’s scared to tell me.

He knows me. How the hell does he know me and why hasn’t he told me?

I suddenly feel sick. I rush past him and open the door across the hall, which happens to be a bathroom, thank God. I lock the door behind me and throw the framed picture on the counter, then fall straight to the floor.

The images and memories start inundating my mind like the floodgates have just been lifted. Memories of him, of her, of the three of us together. Memories of us playing, me eating dinner at their house, me and Les being inseparable. I loved her. I was so young and so small and I don’t even know how I knew them, but I loved them. Both of them. The memory is coupled by the grief of now knowing the Lesslie I knew and loved as a little girl is gone. I suddenly feel sad and depressed that she’s gone, but not for me. Not for Sky. I’m sad for the little girl I used to be and somehow her grief over the loss of Lesslie is emerging through me.

How have I not known? How did I not remember him the first time I saw him?

“Sky, open the door. Please.”

I fall back against the wall. It’s too much. The memories and the emotions and the grief…it’s too much to absorb all at once.

“Baby, please. We need to talk and I can’t do it from out here. Please, open the door.”

He knew. The first time he saw me at the grocery store, he knew. And when he saw my bracelet…he knew I got it from Lesslie. He saw me wearing it and he knew.

My grief and confusion soon turn to anger and I push myself up off the floor and walk swiftly to the bathroom door. I unlock it and swing it open. His hands are on either side of the doorframe and he’s looking directly at me, but I feel like I don’t even know who he is. I don’t know what’s real between us and what’s fake anymore. I don’t know what feelings of his are from his life with me or the life with that little girl I used to be.

I need to know. I need to know who she was. Who I was. I swallow my fear and release the question that I’m afraid I already know the answer to. “Who’s Hope?”

His hardened expression doesn’t change, so I ask him again, but louder this time.

“Who the hell is Hope?”

He keeps his eyes locked on mine and his hands placed firmly on the doorframe, but he can’t answer me. For some reason he doesn’t want me to know. He doesn’t want me to remember who I was. I take a deep breath and try to fight back the tears. I’m too scared to say it, because I don’t want to know the answer.

“Is it me?” I ask, my voice shaking and full of trepidation. “Holder…am I Hope?”

He lets out a quick breath at the same time he looks up at the ceiling, almost as if he’s struggling not to cry. He closes his eyes and lays his forehead against his arm, then takes a long, deep breath before looking back at me. “Yes.”

The air around me grows thick. Too thick to take in. I stand still, directly in front of him, unable to move. Everything grows quiet except for what’s inside my head. There are so many thoughts and questions and memories and they’re all trying to take over and I don’t know if I need to cry or scream or sleep or run.

I need to go outside. I feel like Holder and the bathroom and the whole damn house are closing in on me and I need to go outside so there’s room to get everything out of my head. I just want it all out.

I shove past him and he tries to grab my arm, but I yank it out of his grasp.

“Sky, wait,” he yells after me. I keep running until I reach the stairs and I descend them as fast as I can, taking two at a time. I can hear him following me, so I speed up and my foot lands further than I intend for it to. I lose my grip on the rail and fall forward, landing on the floor at the base of the stairs.

“Sky!” he yells. I try to pull myself up but he’s on his knees with his arms around me before I even have the chance. I push against him, wanting him to let go of me so I can just go outside. He doesn’t budge.

“Outside,” I say, breathless and weak. “I just need outside. Please, Holder.”

I can feel him struggling from within, not wanting to release me. He reluctantly pulls me away from his chest and looks down at me, searching my eyes. “Don’t run, Sky. Go outside, but please don’t leave. We need to talk.”

I nod and he releases me, then helps me stand up. When I walk out the front door and onto the lawn, I clasp my hands together behind my head and inhale a huge, cold breath of air. I tilt my head back and look up at the stars, wishing more than anything that I was up there and not down here. I don’t want the memories to keep coming, because with each confusing memory comes an even more confusing question. I don’t understand how I know him. I don’t understand why he kept it from me. I don’t understand how my name could have been Hope, when all I’ve ever remembered being called was Sky. I don’t understand why Karen would tell me that Sky was my birth name if it isn’t. Everything I thought I understood after all these years is unraveling, revealing things that I don’t want to know. I’m being lied to, and I’m terrified to know what it is that everyone’s trying to keep from me.

I stand outside for what feels like forever, attempting to sort through this alone when I have no idea what it is I’m even trying to sort through. I need to talk to Holder and I need to know what he knows, but I’m hurt. I don’t want to face him, knowing he’s been hiding this secret all along. It makes everything that I thought was happening between us nothing but a fa?ade.

I’m emotionally spent and have had all the revelations I can take for one night. I just want to go home and go to bed. I need to sleep on this before we go into the fact of why he didn’t just tell me he knew me as a child. I don’t understand why it was something he even thought he should keep from me.

I turn around and walk back toward the house. He’s standing in the doorway, watching me. He steps aside to let me back in and I walk straight to the kitchen and open the refrigerator. I grab a bottle of water and open it, then take several gulps. My mouth is dry and I never did get the water he said he was getting for me earlier.

I set the bottle down on the bar and look at him. “Take me home.”

He doesn’t object. He turns around and grabs his keys off the entryway table, then motions for me to follow him. I leave the water on the bar and silently follow him to the car. When I climb inside, he backs out of the driveway and pulls onto the road without speaking a word.

We pass my turn-off and it’s apparent that he has no intention to take me home. I glance over at him and his eyes are focused hard on the road in front of him. “Take me home,” I say again.

He looks at me with a determined expression. “We need to talk, Sky. You have questions, I know you do.”

I do. I have a million questions I need to ask, but I was hoping he would let me sleep on it so I could sort them out and try to answer as many of them as I could myself. But it’s obvious he doesn’t care what I prefer at this point. I reluctantly take off my seatbelt and turn in my seat, leaning with my back against the door to face him. If he doesn’t want to give me time to let this soak in, I’ll just lay all of my questions on him at once. But I’m making it fast because I want him to take me home.

“Fine,” I say stubbornly. “Let’s get this over with. Why have you been lying to me for two months? Why did my bracelet piss you off so much that you couldn’t speak to me for weeks? Or why you didn’t just say who you really thought I was the day we met at the grocery store? Because you knew, Holder. You knew who I was and for some reason you thought it would be funny to string me along until I figured it all out. Do you even like me? Was this game you’ve been playing worth hurting me more than I’ve ever been hurt in my life? Because that’s what happened,” I say, furious to the point that I’m shaking.

I finally give in to the tears because it’s just one more thing that’s trying to get out and I’m tired of fighting them. I wipe them away from my cheeks with the back of my hand and lower my voice. “You hurt me, Holder. So bad. You promised you would only ever be honest with me.” I’m not raising my voice anymore. In fact, I’m talking so quietly that I’m not even sure he can hear me. He keeps staring at the road like the a*shole that he is. I squeeze my eyes shut and fold my arms across my chest, then fall back into my seat. I stare out the passenger window and curse Karma. I curse Karma for bringing this hopeless boy into my life just so he could ruin it.

When he continues to drive without responding to a single word I’ve said, I can do nothing but let out a small, pathetic laugh. “You really are hopeless,” I mutter.

Saturday, April 17th, 1999 2:30 p.m.

“I need to pee,” she giggles. We’re crouched down under their porch, waiting for Dean to come find us. I like playing hide and seek, but I like to be the one hiding. I don’t want them to know that I can’t do the counting thing yet like they always ask me to do. Dean always tells me to count to twenty when they go hide, but I don’t know how. So I just stand with my eyes closed and pretend I’m counting. Both of them are already in school and I can’t go until next year, so I don’t know how to count as good as they do.

“He’s coming,” she says, crawling backward a few feet. The dirt under the porch is cold, so I’m trying not to touch it with my hands like she is, but my legs are hurting.

“Les!” he yells. He walks closer to the porch and head straight for the steps. We’ve been hiding a long time and he looks like he’s tired of looking for us. He sits down on the steps, which are almost right in front of us. When I tilt my head, I can look right up at his face. “I’m tired of looking!”

I turn around and look at Lesslie to see if she’s ready to run to base. She shakes her head no and holds her finger to her lips.

“Hope!” he yells, still sitting on the steps. “I give up!” He looks around the yard, then sighs quietly. He mumbles and kicks at the gravel under his foot and it makes me laugh. Lesslie punches me on the arm and tells me to be quiet.

He starts laughing, and at first I think it’s because he hears us, but then I realize he’s just talking to himself.

“Hope and Les,” he says, quietly. “Hopeless.” He laughs again and stands up. “You hear that?” he yells, cupping his hands around his mouth. “The two of you are hopeless!”

Hearing him turn our names into a word makes Lesslie laugh and she crawls out from under the porch. I follow her and stand up as soon as Dean turns around and sees her. He smiles and looks at both of us, our knees covered in dirt with cobwebs in our hair. He shakes his head and says it again. “Hopeless.”

Saturday, October 27th, 2012 11:20 p.m.

The memory is so vivid; I have no idea how it’s just now coming to me. How I could see his tattoo day after day and hear him say Hope and how he talks about Les, yet still not remember? I reach over the seat and grab his arm, then pull his sleeve up. I know it’s there. I know what it says. But this is the first time I’m looking at it, knowing what it actually means.

“Why did you get it?” He’s told me before, but I want to know the real reason now. He pulls his gaze from the road and glances at me.

“I told you. It’s a reminder of the people I’ve let down in my life.”

I close my eyes and fall back into my seat, shaking my head. He said he doesn’t do vague, but I can’t think of an explanation more vague than the one he keeps giving me about his tattoo. How could he have let me down? The fact that he thinks he somehow let me down at that young of an age doesn’t even make sense. And the fact that he feels enough regret about it to turn it into some cryptic tattoo is really beyond any guesses I could fathom at this point. I don’t know what else I can say or do to get him to take me back home. He didn’t answer any of my questions and now he’s playing his mind games again by giving me cryptic, non-answers. I just want to go home.

He pulls the car over and I’m hoping he’s turning it around. Instead, he kills the ignition and opens his door. I look out the window and recognize that we’re at the airport again. I’m annoyed. I don’t want to come here and watch him stare at the stars again while he thinks. I want answers or I want to go home.

I swing open the door and reluctantly follow him to the fence, hoping if I appease him this one last time that I’ll get a quick explanation from him. He helps me scale the fence again and we both walk back to our spots on the runway and lay down.

I look up in hopes of spotting a shooting star. I could really use a wish or two right now. I would wish I could go back to two months ago and never step foot into the grocery store that day.

“Are you ready for answers?” he says.

I turn my head toward his. “I’m ready if you’re actually planning on being honest this time.”

He faces me, then pulls up on his arm and rolls onto his side, looking down at me. He does his thing again, silently staring at me. It’s darker than it was when we were out here the last time, so it’s hard to make out the expression on his face. I can tell he’s sad, though. His eyes have never been able to hide the sadness. He leans forward and lifts his hand, bringing it to my cheek. “I need to kiss you.”

I almost break out into laughter, but I’m afraid if I do it will be the maniacal kind and that terrifies me, because I already assume I’m going crazy. I shake my head, shocked that he would even think I would let him kiss me right now. Not after finding out he’s been lying to me for two solid months.

“No,” I say forcefully. He keeps his face close to mine and his hand on my cheek. I hate that even though every ounce of anger in me is a result of his deceit, my body still responds to his touch. It’s an odd internal battle when you can’t decide if you want to punch the mouth sitting three inches in front of your face, or taste it.

“I need to kiss you,” he says again, this time a desperate plea. “Please, Sky. I’m scared that after I tell you what I’m about to tell you…I’ll never get to kiss you again.” He pulls himself closer to me and strokes my cheek with his thumb, never taking his eyes off mine. “Please.”

I nod slightly, unsure why my weakness is getting the best of me. He lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me. I close my eyes and allow him in, because a huge part of me is just as scared that this is the last time I’ll feel his mouth against mine. I’m scared it’s the last time I’ll ever feel anything, because he’s the only one I’ve ever wanted to feel anything with.

He adjusts himself until he’s on his knees, holding onto my face with one hand and bracing his other hand on the concrete beside my head. I lift my hand and run it through his hair, pulling him to my mouth more urgently. Tasting him and feeling his breath as it mixes with mine momentarily takes everything about tonight and locks it away. In this moment, I’m focused on him and my heart and how it’s swelling and breaking all at the same time. The thought that what I feel for him isn’t even warranted or true is making me hurt. I hurt everywhere. In my head, in my gut, in my chest, in my heart, in my soul. Before, I felt like his kiss could cure me. Now his kiss feels like it’s creating a terminal heartache deep within me.

He can sense my defeat taking over as the sobs start coming from my throat. He moves his lips to my cheek, then my ear. “I’m so sorry,” he says, holding onto me. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to know.”

I close my eyes and push him away from me, then sit up and take a deep breath. I wipe the tears away with the back of my hand and I pull my legs up, hugging them tightly. I bury my face in my knees so I don’t have to look at him again.

“I just want you to talk, Holder. I asked you everything I could ever ask you on the way here. I need you to answer me now so I can just go home.” My voice is defeated and done.

His hand moves to the back of my head and he drags his fingers through my hair, over and over again while he works up a response. He clears his throat. “I wasn’t sure if you were Hope the first time I saw you. I was so used to seeing her in every single stranger our age, I had given up trying to find her a few years ago. But when I saw you at the store and looked into your eyes…I had a feeling you really were her. When you showed me your ID and I realized you weren’t, I felt ridiculous. It was like the wake-up call I needed to finally just let the memory of her go.”

He stops talking and runs his hand slowly down my hair, resting it on my back, but tracing light circles with his finger. I want to push his hand away, but I want it right where it is even more.

“We lived next door to you and your dad for a year. You and me and Les…we were all best friends. It’s so hard to remember faces from that long ago, though. I thought you were Hope, but I also thought that if you really were her, I wouldn’t be doubting it. I thought if I ever saw her again, I’d know for sure.

“When I left the grocery store that day, I immediately looked up the name you gave me online. I couldn’t find anything about you, not even on Facebook. I searched for an hour straight and became so frustrated that I went for a run to cool down. When I rounded the corner and saw you standing in front of my house, I couldn’t breathe. You were just standing there, worn out and exhausted from running and…Jesus, Sky. You were so beautiful. I still wasn’t sure if you were Hope or not, but at that point it wasn’t even going through my mind. I didn’t care who you were; I just needed to know you.

“After spending time with you that week, I couldn’t stop myself from going to your house that Friday night. I didn’t show up with the intention of digging up your past or even in the hopes that something would happen between us. I went to your house because I wanted you to know the real me, not the me you had heard about from everyone else. After spending more time with you that night, I couldn’t think of anything else besides figuring out how I could spend more time with you. I had never met anyone who got me the way you did. I still wondered if it was possible…if you were her. I was especially curious after you told me you were adopted, but again, I thought maybe it was a coincidence.

“But then when I saw the bracelet…” He stops talking and takes his hand off of my back. His fingers slide under my chin and he pulls my face away from my knees and makes me look him in the eyes. “My heart broke, Sky. I didn’t want you to be her. I wanted you to tell me you got the bracelet from your friend or that you found it or you bought it. After all the years I spent searching for you in every single face I ever looked at, I finally found you…and I was devastated. I didn’t want you to be Hope. I just wanted you to be you.”

I shake my head, still just as confused as before. “But why didn’t you just tell me? How hard would it have been to admit that we used to know each other? I don’t understand why you’ve been lying about it.”

He eyes me for a moment while he searches for a good enough response, then brushes hair away from my face. “What do you remember about your adoption?”

I shake my head. “Not a lot. I know I was in foster care after my father gave me up. I know Karen adopted me and we moved here from out of state when I was five. Other than that and a few odd memories, I don’t know anything.”

He squares his body up with mine and places both of his hands on my shoulders firmly, like he’s getting frustrated. “That’s all stuff Karen told you. I want to know what you remember. What do you remember, Sky?”

This time I shake my head slowly. “Nothing. The earliest memories I have are with Karen. The only thing I remember from before Karen was getting the bracelet, but that’s only because I still have it and the memory stuck with me. I wasn’t even sure who gave it to me.”

Holder takes my face in his hands and lowers his lips to my forehead. He keeps his lips there, holding me against his mouth like he’s afraid to pull away because he doesn’t want to have to talk. He doesn’t want to have to tell me whatever it is he knows.

“Just say it,” I whisper. “Tell me what you’re wishing you didn’t have to tell me.”

He pulls his mouth away and presses his forehead against mine. His eyes are closed and he’s got a firm grip on my face. He looks so sad and it makes me want to hold him despite my frustration with him. I reach my arms around him and I hug him. He hugs me back and pulls me onto his lap in the process. I wrap my legs around his waist and our foreheads are still meshed together. He’s holding onto me, but this time it feels like he’s holding onto me because his earth has been shifted off its axis, and I’m his core.

“Just tell me, Holder.”

He runs his hand down to my lower back and he opens his eyes, pulling his forehead away from mine so he can look at me when he speaks.

“The day Les gave you that bracelet, you were crying. I remember every single detail like it happened yesterday. You were sitting in your yard against your house. Les and I sat with you for a long time, but you never stopped crying. After she gave you your bracelet she walked back to our house but I couldn’t. I felt bad leaving you there, because I thought you might be mad at your dad again. You were always crying because of him and it made me hate him. I don’t remember anything about the guy, other than I hated his guts for making you feel like you did. I was only six years old, so I never knew what to say to you when you cried. I think that day I said something like, ‘Don’t worry…’”

“He won’t live forever,” I say, finishing his sentence. “I remember that day. Les giving me the bracelet and you saying he won’t live forever. Those are the two things I’ve remembered all this time. I just didn’t know it was you.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said to you.” He brings his hands to my cheeks and continues. “And then I did something I’ve regretted every single day of my life since.”

I shake my head. “Holder, you didn’t do anything. You just walked away.”

“Exactly,” he says. “I walked to my front yard even though I knew I should have sat back down in the grass beside you. I stood in my front yard and I watched you cry into your arms, when you should have been crying into mine. I just stood there…and I watched the car pull up to the curb. I watched the passenger window roll down and I heard someone call your name. I watched you look up at the car and wipe your eyes. You stood up and you dusted off your shorts, then you walked to the car. I watched you climb inside and I knew whatever was happening I shouldn’t have just been standing there. But all I did was watch, when I should have been with you. It never would have happened if I would have stayed right there with you.”

The fear and regret in his voice is causing my heart to race against my chest. I somehow find strength to speak, despite the fear consuming me. “What never would have happened?”

He kisses me on the forehead again and his thumbs brush delicately over my cheekbones. He looks at me like he’s scared he’s about to break my heart.

“They took you. Whoever was in that car, they took you from your dad, from me, from Les. You’ve been missing for thirteen years, Hope.”

Saturday, October 27th, 2012 11:57 p.m.

One of the things I love about books is being able to define and condense certain portions of a characters life into chapters. It’s intriguing, because you can’t do this with real life. You can’t just end a chapter, then skip the things you don’t want to live through, only to open it up to a chapter that better suits your mood. Life can’t be divided into chapters...only minutes. The events of your life are all crammed together one minute right after the other without any time lapses or blank pages or chapter breaks because no matter what happens life just keeps going and moving forward and words keep flowing and truths keep spewing whether you like it or not and life never lets you pause and just catch your f*cking breath.

I need one of those chapter breaks. I just want to catch my breath, but I have no idea how.

“Say something,” he says. I’m still sitting in his lap, wrapped around him. My head is pressed against his shoulder and my eyes are shut. He places his hand on the back of my head and lowers his mouth to my ear, holding me tighter. “Please. Say something.”

I don’t know what he wants me to say. Does he want me to act surprised? Shocked? Does he want me to cry? Does he want me to scream? I can’t do any of those things because I’m still trying to wrap my mind around what he’s saying.

“You’ve been missing for thirteen years, Hope.”

His words repeat over and over in my mind like a broken record.

“Missing.”

I’m hoping he means missing in a figurative sense, like maybe he’s just missed me all these years. I doubt that’s the case, though. I could see the look in his eyes when he said those words, and he didn’t want to say them at all. He knew what it would do to me.

Maybe he really does mean missing in the literal sense, but he’s just confused. We were both so young; he probably doesn’t remember the sequence of events correctly. But the last two months flash before my eyes, and everything about him…all of his personalities and mood swings and cryptic words come into clear focus. Like the night he was standing in my doorway and said he’d been looking for me his whole damn life. He was being literal about that.

Or our first night sitting right here on this runway when he asked if I’d had a good life. He’s worried for thirteen years about what happened to me. He was being very literal then, wanting to know if I was happy with where I ended up.

Or the day he refused to apologize for the way he acted in the cafeteria, explaining that he knew why it upset him but he just couldn’t tell me yet. I didn’t question it then, because he seemed sincere that he wanted to explain himself one day. Never in a million years could I have guessed why it upset him so much to see that bracelet on me. He didn’t want me to be Hope because he knew the truth would break my heart.

He was right.

“You’ve been missing for thirteen years, Hope.”

The last word of his sentence sends a shiver down my spine. I slowly lift my face away from his shoulder and look at him. “You called me Hope. Don’t call me that. It’s not my name.”

He nods. “I’m sorry, Sky.”

The last word of that sentence sends a shiver down my spine as well. I slide off of him and stand up. “Don’t call me that, either,” I say resolutely. I don’t want to be called Hope or Sky or Princess or anything else that separates me from any other part of myself. I’m suddenly feeling like I’m completely different people, wrapped up into one. Someone who doesn’t know who she is or where she belongs and it’s disturbing. I’ve never felt so isolated in my life; like there isn’t a single person in this entire world I can trust. Not even myself. I can’t even trust my own memories.

Holder stands up and takes my hands, looking down at me. He’s watching me, waiting for me to react. He’ll be disappointed because I’m not going to react. Not right here. Not right now. Part of me wants to cry while he wraps his arms around me and whispers, “Don’t worry,” into my ear. Part of me wants to scream and yell and hit him for deceiving me. Part of me wants to allow him to continue to blame himself for not stopping what he says happened thirteen years ago. Most of me just wants it all to go away, though. I want to go back to feeling nothing again. I miss the numbness.

I pull my hands from his and begin to walk toward the car. “I need a chapter break,” I say, more to myself than to him.

He follows a step behind me. “I don’t even know what that means.” His voice sounds defeated and overwhelmed. He grabs my arm to stop me, more than likely to ask how I’m feeling, but I jerk it away and spin around to face him again. I don’t want him to ask me how I’m feeling, because I have no idea. I’m running through an entire gamut of feelings right now, some I’ve never even experienced before. Rage and fear and sadness and disbelief are building up inside of me and I want it to stop. I just want to stop feeling everything that I’m feeling, so I reach up and grab his face and press my lips to his. I kiss him hard and fast, wanting him to react, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t kiss me back. He refuses to help make the pain go away like this, so my anger takes over and I separate my lips from his, then slap him.

He barely flinches and it infuriates me. I want him to hurt like I’m hurting. I want him to feel what his words just did to me. I slap him again and he allows it. When he still doesn’t react, I push against his chest. I push him and shove him over and over—trying to give him back every ounce of pain he’s just immersed into my soul. I ball my fists up and hit him in the chest and when that doesn’t work, I start screaming and hitting him and trying to get out of his arms because they’re wrapped around me now. He spins me around so that my back is against his chest and our arms are locked together, folded tightly across my stomach.

“Breathe,” he whispers into my ear. “Calm down, Sky. I know you’re confused and scared, but I’m here. I’m right here. Just breathe.”

His voice is calm and comforting and I close my eyes and soak it in. He simulates a deep breath, moving his chest in rhythm with mine, forcing me to take a breath and follow his lead. I take several slow, deep breaths in time with his. When I’ve stopped struggling in his arms, he slowly turns me around and pulls me into his chest.

“I didn’t want you to hurt like this,” he whispers, cradling my head in his hands. “That’s why I haven’t told you.”

I realize in this moment that I’m not even crying. I haven’t cried at all since the truth passed his lips and I make it a point to refuse the tears that are demanding to be set free. Tears won’t help me right now. They’ll just make me weaker.

I place my palms on his chest and lightly push against him. I feel like I’m vulnerable to more tears when he holds me because he feels so comforting. I don’t need anyone’s comfort. I need to learn how to rely on myself to stay strong because I’m the only one I can trust—and I’m even skeptical about my own trustworthiness. Everything I thought I knew has been a lie. I don’t know who’s in on it or who knows the truth and I find myself without an ounce of trust left in my heart. Not for Holder, not for Karen…not even for myself, really.

I back a step away from him and look him in the eyes. “Were you ever going to tell me who I was?” I ask, glaring at him. “What if I never remembered? Would you have ever told me? Were you scared I would leave you and you’d never get your chance to screw me? Is that why you’ve been lying to me this whole time?”

His eyes awash with offense the moment the words flow from my lips. “No, babe. That’s not how it was. That’s not how it is. I haven’t told you because I’m scared of what will happen to you. If I report it, they’ll take you from Karen. They’ll more than likely arrest her and send you back to live with your father until you turn eighteen. Do you want that to happen? You love Karen and you’re happy here. I didn’t want to mess that up for you.”

I release a quick laugh and shake my head. His reasoning makes no sense. None of this makes any sense. “First of all,” I say. “They wouldn’t put Karen in jail because I can guarantee you she knows nothing about this. Second, I’ve been eighteen since September. If my age was the reason you weren’t being honest, you would have told me by now.”

He squeezes the back of his neck and looks down at the ground. I don’t like the nervousness seeping from him right now. I can tell by the way he’s reacting that he isn’t finished with the confessions.

“Sky, there’s so much I still need to explain to you.” He brings his eyes back up to meet mine. “Your birthday wasn’t in September. Your birthday is May 7th. You don’t even turn eighteen for six more months. And Karen?” He takes a step toward me, grabbing both of my hands. “She has to know, Sky. She has to. Think about it. Who else could have done this?”

I immediately pull my hands from his and back away. I know this has more than likely been torture for him, keeping this secret to himself. I can see in his eyes that it’s agonizing for him having to tell me all of this. But I’ve been giving him the benefit of the doubt since the moment I met him, and any sorrow I felt for him has just been negated by the fact that he’s now attempting to tell me that my own mother was somehow involved.

“Take me home,” I demand. “I don’t want to hear anything else. I don’t want to know anything else tonight.”

He tries to take my hands again, but I slap them away. “TAKE ME HOME!” I scream. I begin walking back to the car. I’ve heard enough. I need my mom. I just need to see her and hug her and know that I’m not completely alone in this, because that’s exactly how I feel right now.

I reach the fence before Holder does and I try to pull myself up, but I can’t. My hands and arms are trembling and weak. I’m still attempting it on my own when he quietly comes up behind me and hoists me up. I jump down over the other side and walk to the car.

He sits in the driver’s seat and pulls his door shut, but doesn’t start the car. He’s staring at the steering wheel with his hand paused on the ignition. I watch his hands with mixed emotions, because I want them around me so bad. I want them holding me and rubbing my back and my hair while he tells me it’ll all be okay. But I also look at his hands in disgust, thinking about all the intimate ways he’s touched me and held me, knowing all along that he was deceiving me. How he could be with me, knowing what he knows, yet still allow me to believe the lies? I don’t know how I can forgive him for that.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” he says quietly. “I know it is. I’ll take you home, but we need to talk about this tomorrow.” He turns toward me, looking at me with hardened eyes. “Sky, you cannot talk to Karen about this. Do you understand? Not until the two of us figure it out.”

I nod, just to appease him. He can’t honestly expect me not to talk to her about this.

He turns his whole body toward mine in the seat and leans in, placing his hand on my headrest. “I’m serious, babe. I know you don’t think she’s capable of doing something like this, but until we find out more, you need to keep this to yourself. If you tell anyone, your entire life will change. Give yourself time to process everything. Please. Please promise me you’ll wait until after tomorrow. After we talk again.”

The terrified undertone in his words pierces my heart, and I nod again, but this time I actually mean it.

He watches me for several seconds, then slowly turns around and cranks the car, pulling onto the road. He drives me the four miles back to my home and nothing is spoken until he pulls into my driveway. My hand is on the door handle and I’m stepping out of the car when he takes my other hand.

“Wait,” he says. I wait, but I don’t turn back around. I keep one foot on the floorboard and one foot on the driveway, facing the door. He moves his hand to the side of my head and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “Will you be okay tonight?”

I sigh at the simplicity of his question. “How?” I ease back against my seat and turn and face him. “How can I possibly be okay after tonight?”

He stares at me and continues to stroke the hair on the side of my head with his fingers. “It’s killing me…letting you go like this. I don’t want to leave you alone. Can I come back in an hour?”

I know he’s asking if he can come through my window and lay with me, but I immediately shake my head no. “I can’t,” I say, my voice cracking. “It’s too hard being around you right now. I just need to think. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

He nods and pulls his hand away from my cheek, then places it back on the steering wheel. He watches me as I step out of the car and walk away from him.

Sunday, October 28th, 2012 12:37 a.m.

Stepping through the front door and into the living room, I’m hoping to be engulfed with a sense of comfort that I’m desperately in need of. The familiarity and sense of belonging in this house is something I need to calm me down so that I no longer feel like bursting into tears. This is my home where I live with Karen…a woman who loves me and would do anything for me, no matter what Holder may think.

I stand in the dark living room and wait for the feeling to envelope me, but it never does. I’m looking around with suspicion and doubt, and I hate that I’m observing my life from a completely different viewpoint right now.

I walk through the living room, pausing just outside Karen’s bedroom door. I contemplate crawling into bed with her, but her light is out. I’ve never needed to be in her presence as much as I do in this moment, but I can’t bring myself to open up her bedroom door. Maybe I’m not ready to face her yet. Instead, I walk down the hallway to my bedroom.

The light in my room is peering out from the crack under the door. I put my hand on the doorknob and turn it, then slowly open the door. Karen is sitting on my bed. She looks up at me when she hears the door open and she immediately stands up.

“Where have you been?” She looks worried, but her voice has an edge of anger to it. Or maybe disappointment.

“With Holder. You never said what time I needed to be home.”

She points to the bed. “Sit down. We need to talk.”

Everythign about her feels different now. I watch her guardedly. I feel like I’m going through false motions of being an obedient daughter while I nod. It’s like I’m in a scene from a dramatic Lifetime movie. I walk over to the bed and sit, not sure what has her so riled up. I’m sort of hoping she found out everything that I found out tonight. It’ll make it a hell of a lot easier when I tell her about it.

She takes a seat next to me and turns toward me. “You’re not allowed to see him again,” she says firmly.

I blink twice, mostly from the shock in subject matter. I wasn’t expecting it to be about Holder. “What?” I say, confused. “Why?”

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out my cell phone. “What is this?” she says through gritted teeth.

I look at my phone being held tightly in her hands. She hits a button and holds up the screen to face me. “And what the hell kind of texts are these, Sky? They’re awful. He says awful, vile things to you.” She drops the phone onto the bed and reaches for my hands, grasping them. “Why would you allow yourself to be with someone who treats you this way? I raised you better than this.”

She’s no longer raising her voice. Now she’s just playing the part of concerned mother.

I squeeze her hands in reassurance. I know I’ll more than likely be in trouble for having the phone, but I need her to know that the texts aren’t at all what she thinks they are. I actually feel a little silly that we’re even having this conversation. When I compare this issue to the new issues I’m facing, it seems a little juvenile.

“Mom, he’s not being serious. He sends me those texts as a joke.”

She lets out a disheartened laugh and shakes her head in disagreement. “There’s something off about him, Sky. I don’t like how he looks at you. I don’t like how he looks at me. And the fact that he bought you a phone without having any respect for my rules just goes to show you what kind of respect he holds for other people. Regardless of whether or not the texts are a joke, I don’t trust him. I don’t think you should trust him, either.”

I stare at her. She’s still talking, but the thoughts inside my head are becoming louder and louder, blocking out whatever words she’s trying to drill into my brain. My palms instantly begin sweating and I can feel my heart pounding in my eardrums. All of her beliefs and choices and rules are flashing in my mind and I’m trying to separate them and put them into their own chapters, but they’re all running together. I pull the first thought out of the pile of questions and just flat out ask her.

“Why can’t I have a phone?” I whisper. I’m not even sure that I ask the question loud enough for her to hear me, but she stops moving her mouth so I’m pretty sure she heard me.

“And internet,” I add. “Why don’t you want me accessing the internet?”

The questions are becoming poison in my head and I feel like I have to get them out. It’s all beginning to piece together and I’m hoping it’s all coincidence. I’m hoping she’s sheltered me my whole life because she loves me and wants to protect me. But deep down, it’s quickly becoming apparent that I’ve been sheltered my whole life because she was hiding me.

“Why did you homeschool me?” I ask, my voice much louder this time.

Her eyes are wide and it’s obvious she has no idea what is spurring these questions right now. She stands up and looks down at me. “You aren’t turning this around on me, Sky. You live under my roof and you’ll follow my rules.” She grabs my phone off the bed and walks toward the door. “You’re grounded. No more cell phones. No more boyfriend. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

She slams my door shut behind her and I immediately fall back onto the bed, feeling even more hopeless than before I walked through my front door.

I can’t be right. It’s just a coincidence, I can’t be right. She wouldn’t do something like this. I squeeze the tears back and refuse to believe it. There has to be some other explanation. Maybe Holder is confused. Maybe Karen is confused.

I know I’m confused.

I take off my dress and throw on a t-shirt, then turn out the light and crawl under the covers. I’m hoping I wake up tomorrow to realize this whole night was just a bad dream. If it’s not, I don’t know how much more I can take before my strength is completely diminished. I stare up at the stars, glowing above my head, and I begin counting them. I push everyone and everything else away and focus, focus, focus on the stars.

Wednesday, June 23rd, 1999 4:10 p.m.

Dean walks back to his yard and he turns around and looks at me. I bury my head back into my arm and try to stop crying. I know they probably want to play hide-n-seek again before I have to go back inside, so I need to stop being sad so we can play.

“Hope!”

I look up at Dean and he isn’t looking at me anymore. I thought he called my name, but he’s looking at a car. It’s parked in front of my house and the window is rolled down.

“Come here, Hope,”the lady says. She’s smiling and asking me to come to her window. I feel like I know her, but I can’t remember her name. I stand up so I can go see what she wants. I wipe the dirt off my shorts and walk to the car. She’s still smiling and she looks really nice. When I walk up to the car, she hits the button that unlocks the doors.

“Are you ready to go, sweetie? Your daddy wants us to hurry.”

I didn’t know I was supposed to go anywhere. Daddy didn’t say we were going anywhere today.

“Where are we going?” I ask her.

She smiles and reaches over to the handle, then opens the door for me. “I’ll tell you when we’re on our way. Get in and put your seatbelt on, we can’t be late.”

She really doesn’t want to be late to where we’re going. I don’t want her to be late, so I climb into the front seat and shut my door. She rolls up the window and starts driving away from my house.

She looks at me and smiles, then reaches into the backseat. She hands me a juice box, so I take it out of her hand and open the straw.

“I’m Karen,” she says. “And you get to stay with me for a little while. I’ll tell you all about it when we get there.”

I take a sip from my juice. It’s apple juice. I love apple juice.

“But what about my daddy? Is he coming, too?”

Karen shakes her head. “No, sweetie. It’ll just be you and me when we get there.”

I put the straw back in my mouth because I don’t want her to see me smile. I don’t want her to know that I’m happy my daddy isn’t coming with us.

Sunday, October 28th, 2012 2:45 a.m.

I sit up.

It was a dream.

It was just a dream.

I can feel my heart beating wildly in every facet of my body. It’s beating so hard I can hear it. I’m panting for breath and covered in sweat.

It was just a dream.

I attempt to convince myself of just that. I want to believe with all my heart that the memory I just had wasn’t a real one. It can’t be.

But it was. I remember it clearly, like it happened yesterday. With every single memory I’ve recalled over the last few days, a new one pops up after it. Things I’ve either been repressing or was just too young to recall are coming back to me full-force. Things I don’t want to remember. Things I wish I never knew.

I throw the covers off of me and reach over to the lamp, flipping the switch. The room fills with light and I scream at the realization that someone else is in my bed. As soon as the scream escapes my mouth, he wakes up and shoots straight up on the bed.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I whisper loudly.

Holder glances at his watch, then rubs his eyes with his palms. When he wakes up enough to respond, he places his hand on my knee. “I couldn’t leave you. I just needed to make sure you were okay.” He puts his hand on my neck, right below my ear, and brushes along my jaw with his thumb. “Your heart,” he says, feeling my pulse beating against his fingertips. “You’re scared.”

Seeing him in my bed, caring for me like he is…I can’t be mad at him. I can’t blame him. Despite the fact that I want to be mad at him, I just can’t. If he wasn’t here right now to comfort me after the realization I just had, I don’t know what I would do. He’s done nothing but place blame on himself for every single thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m beginning to accept the fact that maybe he needs comforting just as much as I do. For that, I allow him to steal another piece of my heart. I grab his hand that’s touching my neck and I squeeze it.

“Holder…I remember.” My voice shakes when I speak and I feel the tears wanting to come out. I swallow and push them back with everything that I have. He scoots closer to me on the bed and turns me to face him completely. He places both of his hands on my face and looks into my eyes.

“What do you remember?”

I shake my head, not wanting to say it. He doesn’t let go of me. He coaxes me with his eyes, nodding his head slightly, assuring me that it’s okay to say it. I whisper as quietly as possible, afraid to say it out loud. “It was Karen in that car. She did it. She’s the one who took me.”

Pain and recognition consume his features and he pulls me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me. “I know, baby,” he says into my hair. “I know.”

I cling to his shirt and hold onto him, wanting to swim in the comfort that his arms provide. I close my eyes, but only for a second. He’s pushing me away as soon as Karen opens the door to my bedroom.

“Sky?”

I spin around on the bed and she’s standing in the doorway, glaring at Holder. She cuts her eyes to me. “Sky? What…what are you doing?” Confusion and disappointment cloud her face.

I snap my gaze back to Holder. “Get me out of here,” I say under my breath. “Please.”

He nods, then walks to my closet. He opens the door as I stand up and grab a pair of jeans from my dresser and pull them on.

“Sky?” Karen says, watching both of us from the doorway. I don’t look at her. I can’t look at her. She takes a few steps into the bedroom just as Holder opens a duffel bag and lays it on the bed.

“Throw some clothes in here, babe. I’ll get what you need out of the bathroom.” His tone of voice is calm and collected, which slightly eases the panic coursing through me. I walk to my closet and begin pulling shirts off of hangers.

“You aren’t going anywhere with him. Are you insane?” Karen’s voice is near panic, but I still don’t look at her. I continue throwing clothes into my bag. I walk to the dresser and pull open the top drawer, taking a handful of socks and underwear. I walk to the bed and Karen cuts me off, placing her hands on my shoulders and forcing me to look at her.

“Sky,” she says, dumbfounded. “What are you doing? What’s wrong with you? You’re not leaving with him.”

Holder walks back into the bedroom with a handful of toiletries and walks directly around Karen, piling them into the bag. “Karen, I suggest you let go of her,” he says as calmly as a threat can possibly sound.

Karen scoffs and spins around to face him. “You are not taking her. If you so much as walk out of this house with her, I’m calling the police.”

Holder doesn’t respond. He looks at me and reaches out for the items in my hands, then turns and places them into the duffel bag, zipping it shut. “You ready, babe?” he says, taking my hand.

I nod.

“This isn’t a joke!” Karen yells. Tears are beginning to roll down her cheeks and she’s frantic, looking back and forth between us. Seeing the pain on her face breaks my heart because she’s my mother and I love her, but I can’t ignore the anger and betrayal I feel over the last thirteen years of my life.

“I’ll call the police,” she yells. “You have no right to take her!”

I reach into Holder’s pocket, then pull out his cell phone and take a step toward Karen. I look directly at her and as calmly as I can, I hold the phone out to her. “Here,” I say. “Call them.”

She looks down at the phone in my hands, then back up to me. “Why are you doing this, Sky?” She’s overcome with tears now.

I grab her hand and shove the phone into it, but she refuses to grasp it. “Call them! Call the police, Mom! Please.” I’m begging now. I’m begging her to call them—to prove me wrong. To prove that she has nothing to hide. To prove that I’m not what she’s hiding. “Please,” I say again, quietly. Everything in my heart and soul wants her to take the phone and call them so I’ll know I’m wrong.

She takes a step back at the same time she sucks in a breath. She begins to shake her head, and I’m almost positive she knows I know, but I don’t stick around to find out. Holder grabs my hand and leads me to the open window. He lets me climb out first, then he climbs out behind me. I hear Karen crying my name, but I don’t stop walking until I reach his car. We both climb inside and he drives away. Away from the only family I’ve ever really known.

Sunday, October 28th, 2012 3:10 a.m.

“We can’t stay here,” he says, pulling up to his house. “Karen might come here looking for you. Let me run in and grab a few things and I’ll be right back.”

He leans across the seat and pulls my face toward his. He kisses me, then gets out of the car. The entire time he’s inside his house, I’m leaning my head against the headrest, staring out the window. There isn’t a single star in the sky to count tonight. Only lightning. It seems fitting for the night I’ve had.

Holder arrives back to the car several minutes later and throws his own bag into the backseat. His mother is standing in the entryway, watching him. He walks back to her and takes her face in his hands, just like he does mine. He says something to her, but I don’t know what he’s saying. She nods and hugs him. He walks back to the car and climbs inside.

“What did you tell her?”

He grabs my hand. “I told her you and your mother got into a fight, so I was taking you to one of your relatives houses in Austin. I told her I’d stay with my dad for a few days and that I’d be back soon.” He looks at me and smiles. “It’s okay, she’s used to me leaving, unfortunately. She’s not worried.”

I turn and look out my window when he pulls out of the driveway, just as the rain begins to slap the windshield. “Are we really going to stay with your dad?”

“We’ll go wherever you want to go. I doubt you want to go to Austin, though.”

I look over at him. “Why wouldn’t I want to go to Austin?”

He purses his lips together and flips on the windshield wipers. He places his hand on my knee and brushes it with his thumb. “That’s where you’re from,” he says quietly.

I look back out the window and sigh. There is so much I don’t know. So much. I press my forehead against the cool glass and close my eyes, allowing the questions I’ve been suppressing all night to re-emerge.

“Is my dad still alive?” I ask.

“Yes, he is.”

“What about my Mom? Did she really die when I was three?”

He clears his throat. “Yes. She died in a car wreck a few months before we moved in next door to you.”

“Does he still live in the same house?”

“Yes.”

“I want to see it. I want to go there.”

He doesn’t immediately respond to this statement. Instead, he slowly inhales a breath and releases it. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

I turn to him. “Why not? I probably belong there more than I do anywhere else. He needs to know I’m okay.”

Holder pulls off to the side of the road and throws the car into park. He turns in his seat and looks at me dead on. “Babe, it’s not a good idea because you just found out about this a few hours ago. It’s a lot to take in before you make any hasty decisions. If your dad sees you and recognizes you, Karen will go to prison. You need to think long and hard about that. Think about the media. Think about the reporters. Believe me, Sky. When you disappeared they camped out on our front lawn for months. The police interviewed me no less than twenty times over a two-month period. Your entire life is about to change, no matter what decision you make. But I want you to make the best decision for yourself. I’ll answer any questions you have. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go in a couple of days. If you want to see your dad, that’s where we’ll go. If you want to go to the police, that’s where we’ll go. If you want to just run away from everything, that’s what we’ll do. But for now, I just want you to let this soak in. This is your life. The rest of your life.”

His words have tightened my chest like a vice. I don’t know what I’m thinking. I don’t know if I’m thinking. He’s thought this through from so many angles and I have no clue what to do. I have no f*cking clue.

I swing open the door and step out onto the shoulder of the highway, out into the rain. I pace back and forth, attempting to focus on something in order to hold the hyperventilating at bay. It’s cold and the rain is no longer just falling; it’s pummeling. Huge raindrops are stinging my skin and I can’t keep my eyes open due to the force of them. As soon as Holder rounds the front of the car, I swiftly walk toward him and throw my arms around his neck, burying my face into his already soaked shirt. “I can’t do this!” I yell over the sound of rain pounding the pavement. “I don’t want this to be my life!”

He kisses the top of my head and bends down to talk against my ear. “I don’t want this to be your life, either,” he says. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I let this happen to you.”

He slides a finger under my chin and pulls my gaze up to his. His height is shielding the rain from stinging my eyes, but the drops are sliding down his face, over his lips and down his neck. His hair is soaked and matted to his forehead, so I wipe a strand out of his eyes. He already needs a trim again.

“Let’s not let this be your life tonight,” he says. “Let’s get back in the car and pretend we’re driving away because we want to…not because we need to. We can pretend I’m taking you somewhere amazing...somewhere you’ve always wanted to go. You can snuggle up to me and we can talk about how excited we are and we’ll talk about everything we’ll do when we get there. We can talk about the important stuff later. But tonight…let’s not let this be your life.”

I pull his mouth to mine and I kiss him. I kiss him for always having the perfect thing to say. I kiss him for always being there for me. I kiss him for supporting whatever decision I think I might need to make. I kiss him for being so patient with me while I figure everything out. I kiss him because I can’t think of anything better than climbing back inside that car with him and talking about everything we’ll do when we get to Hawaii.

I separate my mouth from his and somehow, in the midst of the worst day of my life, I find the strength to smile. “Thank you, Holder. So much. I couldn’t do this without you.”

He kisses me softly on the mouth again and smiles back at me. “Yes, babe. You could.”

Sunday, October 28th, 2012 7:50 a.m.

His fingers have been slowly lacing through my hair. My head is resting in his lap and we’ve been driving for over four hours. He turned his phone off back in Waco after receiving pleading texts from Karen, using my phone, wanting him to bring me back home. The problem with that is, I don’t even know where home is anymore.

As much as I love Karen I have no idea how to grasp what she did. There isn’t a situation in the world that could ever make stealing a child okay, so I don’t know that I’ll ever want to go back to her. I plan on finding out as much information as I can about what happened before I make any decisions on how I need to handle this. I know the right thing to do would be to immediately call the police, but sometimes the right thing to do isn’t always the best answer.

“I don’t think we should stay at my father’s house,” Holder says. I assumed he thought I was sleeping, but it’s obvious he knows I’m wide-awake since he’s talking to me. “We’ll get a hotel for tonight and figure out what we need to do tomorrow. I didn’t move out of his house on the best terms this summer, and we’ve got enough drama to deal with as it is.”

I nod my head against his lap. “Whatever you want to do. I just know I need a bed, I’m exhausted. I have no idea how you’re still awake.” I sit up and stretch my arms out in front of me, just as Holder pulls his car into the parking lot of a hotel.

After he checks us in, he gives me the key to the room and leaves to go park the car and get our things. I slide the key card into the door and open it, then walk into the hotel room. There’s only one bed, which I assumed he would request. We’ve slept in the same bed several times before so it would have been a lot more awkward had he requested separate beds.

He returns to the room several minutes later and sets our bags down. I rifle through mine, looking for something to sleep in. Unfortunately, I didn’t bring any pajamas, so I grab a long t-shirt and some underwear.

“I need to take a shower.” I grab the few toiletries I brought and carry them into the bathroom with me and take an extremely long shower. When I’m finished, I attempt to blow dry my hair but I’m too exhausted. I pull my hair up in a wet ponytail instead and brush my teeth. When I walk out of the bathroom, Holder is unpacking both of our bags and hanging our shirts in the closet. He glances at me and does a double take when he sees I’m only wearing a t-shirt and underwear. He eyes me, but only for a second before he glances away uncomfortably. He’s trying to be respectful, considering the day I’ve had. I don’t want him treating me like I’m fragile. If this were any other day, he’d be commenting on what I was wearing and his hands would be on my ass in two seconds flat. Instead, he turns his back to me and takes the last of his items out of his duffel bag.

“I’m going to take a quick shower,” he says. “I filled up the ice bucket and grabbed a few drinks. I wasn’t sure if you wanted soda or water, so I got both.” He grabs a pair of boxer shorts and walks around me toward the bathroom, careful not to look at me. As he passes me, I grab his wrist. He stops and turns around, carefully looking me in the eyes and nowhere else.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Of course, babe,” he says sincerely.

I slide my hand through his, then bring it up to my mouth. I lightly kiss his palm, then rest it against my cheek. “I know you’re worried about me. But if what’s happening in my life is causing you to feel uncomfortable about being attracted to me to the point that you can’t even look at me when I’m half-naked, it’ll break my heart. You’re the only person I have left, Holder. Please don’t treat me differently.”

He looks at me knowingly, then pulls his hand away from my cheek. His eyes drop to my lips, and a small grin plays at the corner of his mouth. “You’re giving me the go-ahead to admit that I still want you, even though your life has turned to shit?”

I nod. “Knowing you still want me is more of a necessity now than it was before my life turned to shit.”

He smiles, then drops his lips to mine, sweeping his hand across my waist and around to my lower back. His other hand is planted firmly on the back of my head, guiding it as he kisses me deeply. His kiss is exactly what I need right now. It’s the only thing that could possibly feel good in a world full of nothing but bad.

“I really need to shower,” he says between kisses. “But now that I have the go ahead to still treat you the same?” He grabs my ass and pulls me against him. “Don’t fall asleep while I’m in there, because when I get out, I want to show you just how incredible I think you look right now.”

“Good,” I whisper against his mouth. He releases me, then walks to the bathroom. I lay down on the bed just as the water kicks on.

I attempt to watch TV for a while since I never have the opportunity, but nothing can hold my attention. It’s been such a grueling twenty-four hours, the sun is already up and we haven’t even gone to bed yet. I shut the blinds and curtains, then crawl back into bed and throw a pillow over my eyes. As soon as I begin to welcome sleep, I feel Holder crawl into bed behind me. He slides one arm under my pillow and one over my side. I can feel his warm chest pressed against my back and the strength of his arms around me. He slides his hands through mine and kisses me lightly on the back of the head.

“I live you,” I whisper to him.

He kisses my head again and sighs into my hair. “I don’t think I live you back anymore. I’m pretty sure I’ve moved beyond that. Actually, I’m positive I’ve moved beyond that, but I’m still not ready to say it to you. When I say it, I want it to be separate from this day. I don’t want you to remember it like this.”

I pull his hand to my mouth and kiss it softly. “Me, too.”

And once again in my new world full of heartache and lies, this hopeless boy somehow finds a way to make me smile.

Sunday, October 28th, 2012 5:15 p.m.

We sleep through breakfast and lunch. By the time afternoon hits and Holder walks in with food, I’m starving. It’s been over twenty-four hours since I’ve eaten anything. He pulls two chairs up to the desk and takes the items and drinks out of the sacks. He brought me the same thing I requested after the art showing last night, but that we never actually got around to ordering. I remove the lid from the chocolate shake and down a huge drink, then take the wrapper off my burger. When I do, a small square piece of paper falls out and lands on the table. I pick it up and read it.

Just because you don’t have a phone anymore and your life is crazy dramatic, I still don’t want your ego exploding. You looked really homely in your t-shirt and panties. I really hope you buy yourself some footed pajamas today so I don’t have to look at your chicken legs again all night.

When I set the note down and look at him, he’s grinning at me. His dimples are so adorable; I actually lean over and lick one this time.

“What was that?” he laughs.

I take a bite of my burger and shrug. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the day I saw you in the grocery store.”

His smile turns smug and he leans back in his chair. “You wanted to lick my face the first time you saw me? Is that usually what you do when you’re attracted to guys?”

I shake my head. “Not your face, your dimple. And no. You’re the only guy I’ve ever had the urge to lick.”

He smiles at me confidently. “Good. Because you’re the only girl I’ve ever had the urge to love.”

Holy shit. He didn’t directly say he loves me, but hearing that word come out of his mouth makes my heart swell in my chest. I take a bite of my burger to hide my smile and let his sentence linger in the air. I’m not ready for it to leave just yet.

We both quietly finish our food. I stand up and clear off the table, then walk to the bed and slip my shoes on.

“Where you headed?” He’s watching me tighten the laces on my shoes. I don’t answer him right away because I’m not sure where it is I’m going. I just want to get out of this hotel room. When my shoes are tied, I stand up and walk to him, then wrap my arms around him.

“I want to go for a walk,” I say. “And I want you to go with me. I’m ready to start asking questions.”

He kisses my forehead then reaches to the table and grabs the room key. “Then let’s go.” He reaches down and laces my fingers through his.

Our hotel isn’t near any parks or walking trails, so instead we just head to the courtyard. There are several cabanas lining the pool, all of them empty. He leads me to one of them. We sit and I lean my head against his shoulder, looking out over the pool. It’s October, but the weather is pretty mild. I pull my arms through the sleeves of my shirt and hug myself, snuggling against him.

“You want me to tell you what I remember?” he asks. “Or do you have specific questions?”

“Both. But I want to hear your story first.”

His arm is draped over my shoulders. His fingers are stroking my upper arm and he kisses the side of my head. I don’t care how many times he kisses me on the head; it always feels like a first.

“You have to understand how surreal this feels for me, Sky. I’ve thought about what happened to you every single day for the past thirteen years. And to think I’ve been living two miles away from you for seven of those years? I’m still having a hard time processing it myself. And now, finally having you here, telling you everything that happened…”

He sighs and I feel his head lean against the back of the chair. He pauses briefly, then continues. “After the car pulled away, I went inside the house and told Les that you left with someone. She kept asking me who, but I didn’t know. My mother was in the kitchen, so I went and told her. She didn’t really pay any attention to me. She was cooking supper and we were just kids. She had learned to tune us out. Besides, I still wasn’t sure anything had happened that wasn’t supposed to happen, so I didn’t sound panicked or anything. She told me to just go outside and play with Les. The way she was so nonchalant about it made me think everything was okay. Being six years old, I was positive adults knew everything, so I didn’t say anything else about it. Les and I went outside to play and another couple of hours passed by when your dad came outside, calling your name. As soon as I heard him call your name, I froze. I stopped in the middle of my yard and watched him standing on his porch, calling for you. It was that moment that I knew he had no idea you had left with someone. I knew I did something wrong.”

“Holder,” I interrupt. “You were just a little boy.”

He ignores my comment and continues on. “Your dad walked over to our yard and asked me if I knew where you were.” He pauses and clears his throat. I wait patiently for him to continue, but it seems like he needs to gather his thoughts. Hearing him tell me what happened that day feels like he’s telling me a story. It feels nothing like what he’s saying is directly related to my life or to me.

“Sky, you have to understand something. I was scared of your father. I was barely six years old and knew I had just done something terribly wrong by leaving you alone. Now your police chief father is standing over me, his gun visible on his uniform. I panicked. I ran back into my house and ran straight to my bedroom and locked the door. He and my mother beat on the door for half an hour, but I was too scared to open it and admit to them that I knew what happened. My reaction worried both of them, so he immediately radioed for backup. When I heard the police cars pull up outside, I thought they were there for me. I still didn’t understand what had happened to you. By the time my mother coaxed me out of the room, three hours had already passed since you left in the car.”

He’s still rubbing my shoulder, but his grip is tighter on me now. I push my arms through the sleeves of my shirt so I can take his hand and hold it.

“I was taken to the station and questioned for hours. They wanted to know if I knew the license plate number, what kind of car took you, what the person looked like, what they said to you. Sky, I didn’t know anything. I couldn’t even remember the color of the car. All I could tell them was exactly what you were wearing, because you were the only thing I could picture in my head. Your dad was furious with me. I could hear him yelling in the hallway of the station that if I would have just told someone right when it happened, they would have been able to find you. He blamed me. When a police officer blames you for losing his daughter, you tend to believe he knows what he’s talking about. Les heard him yelling, too, so she thought it was all my fault. For days, she wouldn’t even talk to me. Both of us were trying to understand what had happened. For six years we lived in this perfect world where adults are always right and bad things don’t happen to good people. Then, in the span of a minute, you were taken and everything we thought we knew turned out to be this false image of life that our parents had built for us. We realized that day that even adults do horrible things. Children disappear. Best friends get taken from you and you have no idea if they’re even alive anymore.

“We watched the news constantly, waiting for reports. For weeks they would show your picture on TV, asking for leads. The most recent picture they had of you was from right before your mother died, when you were only three. I remember that pissing me off, wondering how almost two years could have gone by without someone having taken a more recent picture. They would show pictures of your house and would sometimes show our house, too. Every now and then, they would mention the boy next door who saw it happen, but couldn’t remember any details. I remember one night…the last night my mother allowed us to watch the coverage on TV…one of the reporters showed a panned out image of both of our houses. They mentioned the only witness, but referred to me as ‘The boy who lost Hope.’ It infuriated my mother so bad; she ran outside and began screaming at the reporters, yelling at them to leave us alone. To leave me alone. My dad had to drag her back inside the house.

“My parents did their best to try and make our life as normal as possible. After a couple of months, the reporters stopped showing up. The endless trips to the police station for more questioning finally stopped. Things began to slowly return to normal for everyone in the neighborhood. Everyone but Les and me. It was like all of our hope was taken right along with our Hope.”

Hearing his words and the desolation in his voice causes me nothing but guilt. One would think what happened to me would have been so traumatic that it would have affected me more than the people around me. However, I can barely even remember it. It was such an uneventful occurrence in my life, yet it practically ruined him and Lesslie. Karen was so calm and pleasant and filled my head with lies about a life of adoption and foster care, that I never thought to even question it. Like Holder said, at such a young age you believe that adults are all so honest and truthful, you never even think to question them.

“I’ve spent so many years hating my father for giving up on me,” I say quietly. “I can’t believe she just took me from him. How could she do that? How could anyone do that?”

“I don’t know, babe.”

I sit up straight, then turn around to look him in the eyes. “I need to see the house,” I say. “I want more memories, but I don’t have any and right now it’s hard. I can barely remember anything, much less him. I just want to drive by. I need to see it.”

He rubs my arm and nods. “Right now?”

***

“Yes. I want to go before it gets dark.”

The entire drive, I’m absolutely silent. My throat is dry and my stomach is in knots. I’m scared. I’m scared to see the house. I’m scared he might be home and I’m scared I might see him. I don’t really want to see him yet; I just want to see the place that was my first home. I don’t know if it will help me remember but I know it’s something I have to do.

He slows the car down and pulls over to the curb. I’m looking at the row of houses across the street, scared to pull my gaze from my window because it’s so hard to turn and look.

“We’re here,” he says quietly. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s home.”

I slowly turn my head and look out his window at the first home I ever lived in. It’s late and the day is being swallowed by night, but the sky is still bright enough that I can clearly make out the house. It looks familiar, but seeing it doesn’t immediately bring back any memories. The house is tan with a dark brown trim, but the colors don’t look familiar at all. As if Holder can read my mind, he says, “It used to be white.”

I turn in my seat and face the house, trying to remember something. I try to visualize walking through the front door and seeing the living room, but I can’t. It’s like everything about that house and that life has been erased from my mind somehow.

“How can I remember what your living room and kitchen look like, but I can’t remember my own?”

He doesn’t answer me, because he more than likely knows I’m not really looking for an answer. He just places his hand on top of mine and holds it there while we stare at the houses that changed the paths of our lives forever.

Sunday, May 2nd, 1999 2:35 p.m.

“Is your daddy giving you a birthday party?” Lesslie asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t have birthday parties.”

Lesslie frowns, then sits down on my bed and picks up the unwrapped box lying on my pillow. “Is this your birthday present?” she asks.

I take the box out of her hands and set it back on my pillow. “No. My daddy buys me presents all the time.”

“Are you going to open it?” she asks.

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

She folds her hands in her lap and sighs, then looks around the room. “You have a lot of toys. Why don’t we ever come here and play? We always go to my house and it’s boring there.”

I sit on the floor and grab my shoes to put them on. I don’t tell her I hate my room. I don’t tell her I hate my house. I don’t tell her we always go to her house because I feel safer over there. I take my shoelaces between my fingers and scoot closer to her on the bed. “Can you tie these?”

She grabs my foot and puts it on her knee. “Hope, you’re about to turn five. You need to learn how to tie your own shoes. Me and Holder knew how to tie our shoes when we were five.” She scoots down on the floor and sits in front of me. She says it like she’s so much older than me. She just turned six. She’s only one year older than me because I’m almost five.

“Watch me,” she says. “You see this string? Hold it out like this.” She puts the strings in my hands and shows me how to wrap it and pull it until it ties like it’s supposed to. When she helps me tie both of them two times, she unties them and tells me to do it again by myself. I try to remember how she showed me to tie them. She stands up and walks to my dresser while I do my very best to loop the shoestring.

“Was this your mom?” she says, holding up a picture. I look at the picture in her hands, then look down at my shoes again.

“Yeah.”

“Do you miss her?” she asks.

I nod and keep trying to tie my shoe and not think about how much I miss her. I miss her so much.

“Hope, you did it!” Lesslie squeals. She sits back down on the floor in front of me and hugs me. “You did it all by yourself. You know how to tie your shoes now.”

I look down at my shoes and smile.

Sunday, October 28th, 2012 7:10 p.m.

“Lesslie taught me how to tie my shoes,” I say quietly, still staring at the house.

Holder looks at me and smiles. “You remember her teaching you that?”

“Yeah.”

“She was so proud of that,” he says, turning his gaze back across the street.

I place my hand on the door handle and open it, then step out. The air is growing colder now, so I reach back into the front seat and grab my hoodie, then slip it on over my head.

“What are you doing?” Holder says.

I know he won’t understand and I really don’t want him to try and talk me out of it, so I shut the door and cross the street without answering him. He’s right behind me, calling my name when I step onto the grass. “I need to see my room, Holder.” I continue walking, somehow knowing exactly which side of the house to walk to without having any actual concrete memories of the layout of the house.

“Sky, you can’t. No one’s here. It’s too risky.”

I speed up until I’m running. I’m doing this whether he gives me his approval or not. When I reach the window that I’m somehow certain leads to what used to be my bedroom, I turn and look at him. “I need to do this. There are things of my mother’s that I want in there, Holder. I know you don’t want me to do this, but I need to.”

He places his hands on my shoulders and his eyes are concerned. “You can’t just break in, Sky. He’s a cop. What are you gonna do, bust out the damn window?”

“This house is technically still my home. It’s not really breaking in,” I reply. He does raise a good point, though. How am I supposed to get inside? I purse my lips together and think, then snap my fingers. “The birdhouse! There’s a birdhouse on the back porch with a key in it.”

I turn and run to the backyard, shocked when I see there actually is a birdhouse. I reach my fingers inside and sure enough, there’s a key. The mind is a crazy thing.

“Sky, don’t.” He’s practically begging me not to go through with this.

“I’m going in alone,” I say. “You know where my bedroom is. Wait outside the window and let me know if you see anyone pull up.”

He sighs heavily, then grabs my arm as soon as I insert the key into the back door. “Please don’t make it obvious you were here. And hurry,” he says. He brings me in for a hug, then waits for me to walk inside. I turn the key and check to see if it unlocks the door.