Hitched(29)

My brow furrows. “I won’t make you cry, Hope. And you’ll never have to beg me for anything. Not ever.”

Her throat works and her eyes begin to shine, but she still won’t look at me. “You’ve already made me cry. I just never let you know about it.”

Her words break my damned heart. I’ve been so focused on my own pain over being rejected that I’ve completely overlooked hers. I’ve been a fucking asshole, and I’m ready to admit it. I’m ready to confess and ask for forgiveness and beg for a second chance if that’s what it takes.

But before I can say a word, Hope exhales sharply and points a finger over my shoulder. “Oh, watch out.”

I start to turn, but there’s already a long, silky neck wrapped around mine, pinning me gently, but insistently, to the gate. “Hey, Chewpaca,” I grunt out, reaching up to scratch his ears. “Good to see you too, buddy. How’d you get all the way up here?”

“His stall—it’s on a platform,” she says softly. “Helps me keep the straw dry for them.”

He lets out a musical hum-purr that vibrates through my chest, easing a little of the misery there.

I get both hands involved with the scratching. “Yeah, you’re a good boy. We’ve got to keep you here with your mama. You’d miss her, wouldn’t you? She’s pretty much the best.”

Hope watches me with soft eyes as she strokes Chewpaca’s nose. “I am not the best, but I try to be a good person. Try really hard.” She smiles a sad smile. “And that’s why I can’t make you promises I can’t keep. And I won’t. Because you’re a good person too. And I really want you to be happy.”

She leans in, kissing Chewpaca’s cheek before patting him on the neck. “Good night, Chewy.” She steps back, blowing me a kiss. “Good night, Blake. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“In the morning,” I echo, taking up Chewy petting duties as I watch her go. I wait until she’s out of the barn before I whisper to the alpaca, “I’m getting the feeling she thinks there’s no middle ground for us, friend.”

Chewpaca hums again, but lower in his throat this time.

“Exactly,” I agree. “There’s always middle ground if you’re willing to look hard enough. And if you don’t give up.”

The alpaca shakes his head, tossing the long silk on his neck.

“Don’t worry, buddy, I won’t,” I promise. “I’m not ready to give up on your mama. Not even close.”

With one last ear scratch, I wish Chewy a good night and head for the house, where I set Dildo Shaggins in a position of honor by the French press—hoping it will make Hope laugh in the morning—and get ready for bed.

I toss and turn on the couch for a solid hour, but finally exhaustion wins out and I fall into a restless sleep, only to be awakened at two AM by a shuffling silhouette shambling through the darkness like something straight out of a zombie flick.

It’s Hope, I realize as my brain casts off the sleep fog.

Of course it is.

Who else would be wandering around her house in the middle of the night?

But her arms hang loose at her sides and her head is cocked at an unnatural angle and I’m pretty sure she’s…

“Hope? Are you awake?” I ask softly, my voice a gentle rumble in the dark.

“Mmm,” she hums before drawling, “corn chips sippy cup.”

I grin. “What was that?”

“For the baby elephant,” she says, her words slurred.

“Of course,” I say, cursing myself for plugging my phone in to charge in the kitchen. I’d never show it to anyone but her, but a video of this would make my entire year. “And where is the baby elephant now?”

“Under the covers,” she mumbles. “He’s hiding.”

“Why’s he hiding?”

“Scared of the chickens. Gonna get him corn chips in a sippy cup. Make him feel better.” She sighs and her head lolls heavily to the other side. “But I’m soooo sleepy.”

I draw back the sheet and quilt covering my legs. “Then crawl in and take a rest. The couch is big enough for two and I’m sure the baby elephant will be fine. The chickens went to bed too.”

“Oh, good.” She shuffles forward and sit-falls onto the cushion beside me. “So tired. Couldn’t fall asleep. Too worried.”

“What were you worried about, baby?” I ask, tucking the blanket chastely between us. I would never take advantage, but I don’t feel bad about having her here beside me. She’s safer tucked against me than sleep-wandering around the house banging into furniture in the dark.

“Blake,” she sighs, turning onto her side and snuggling closer to my chest. “I just want to kiss him sooooo much.”

My heart flips. “I’m pretty sure he feels the same way.” I hesitate, guilt warring with the need to put in a good word for myself while she’s in a receptive state of mind. Finally I add, “And kissing could be fun. Worth a try, I think. You should definitely kiss Blake tomorrow.”

“No,” she mutters, her body going heavy against mine as she seems to sink into a deeper level of sleep. “No kissing. Don’t get to have fun. No fun for Hope. All alone. Just alone. And safe. And sad. Hugging the baby elephant.”