Hopeless (Hopeless #1)(102)

“How do you email someone?” I ask. Holder laughs and takes his phone, pressing a few buttons. He hands it back to me and points to the screen.

“Just type what you need to say in there, then hand it back to me and I’ll send it.” I type out a short email, telling her that I found out a few things about my past and I needed to get away for a few days. I assure her that I’ll call her to explain everything in the next few days, but I’m really not sure that I’ll actually tell her the truth. At this point, I’m not sure I want anyone to know about my situation. Not until I have all the answers.

Holder sends the email, then takes my hand and laces his fingers through mine. I focus my gaze out the window and stare up at the sky.

“You hungry?” he asks, after driving in complete silence for over an hour. I shake my head. I’m too nervous to eat anything, knowing I’m about to face Karen. I’m too nervous to even hold a normal conversation. I’m too nervous to do anything but stare out the window and wonder where I’ll be when I wake up tomorrow.

“You need to eat, babe. You’ve barely eaten anything in three days and with your tendency to pass out, I don’t think food would be a bad idea right now.”

He won’t give up until I eat, so I just relent. “Fine,” I mumble.

He ends up choosing a roadside Mexican Restaurant after I fail to make a choice as to where to eat. I order something off the lunch menu, just to appease him. I more than likely won’t be able to eat anything.

“You want to play Dinner Quest?” he says, dipping a tortilla chip into his salsa.

I shrug. I really don’t want to face what I’ll be doing in five hours, so maybe this will help get my mind off of things. “I guess. On one condition, though. I don’t want to talk about anything that has anything to do with the first few years of my life, the last three days or the next twenty-four hours.” He smiles, seemingly relieved. Maybe he doesn’t want to think about any of it, either.

“Ladies first,” he says.

“Then put down that chip,” I say, eyeing the food he’s about to put in his mouth.

His eyes drop to the chip and he frowns playfully. “Make it a quick question then, because I’m starving.”

I take advantage of my turn by downing a drink of my soda, then taking a bite of the chip that I just took out of his hands. “Why do you love running so much?” I ask.

“I’m not sure,” he says, sinking back into his seat. “I started running when I was thirteen. It started out as a way to get away from Les and her annoying friends. Sometimes I would just need out of the house.

The squealing and cackling of thirteen-year-old girls can be extremely painful. I liked the silence that came with running. If you haven’t noticed, I’m sort of a thinker, so it helps me to clear my head.” I laugh. “I’ve noticed,” I say. “Have you always been like that?” He grins and shakes his head. “That’s two questions. My turn.” He takes the chip out of my hand that I was about to eat and he pops it into his mouth, then takes a drink of his soda. “Why didn’t you ever show up for track tryouts?”

I cock my eyebrow and laugh. “That’s an odd question to ask now. That was two months ago.” He shakes his head and points a chip at me. “No judging when it comes to my choice in questions.”



“Fine,” I laugh. “I don’t know, really. School just wasn’t what I thought it would be. I didn’t expect the other girls to be so mean. None of them even spoke to me unless it was to inform me of what a slut I was. Breckin was the only person in that whole school who made any effort.”

“That’s not true,” Holder says. “You’re forgetting about Shayla.” I laugh. “You mean Shayna?”

“Whatever,” he says, shaking his head. “Your go.” He quickly shoves another chip in his mouth and grins at me.

“Why did your parents divorce?”

He gives me a tight-lipped smile and drums his fingers lightly on the table, then shrugs his shoulders.

“I guess it was time for them to,” he says, indifferently.

“It was time?” I ask, confused by his vague answer. “Is there an expiration date on marriages nowadays?”

He shrugs. “For some people, yes.”

I’m interested in his thought process now. I’m hoping he doesn’t move on to his turn now that my question has been asked, because I really want to know his views on this. Not that I’m planning on getting married anytime soon. But he is the guy I’m in love with, so it wouldn’t hurt to know his stance so I’m not as shocked years down the road.

“Why do you think their marriage had a time limit?” I ask.

“All marriages have a time limit if you enter them for the wrong reasons. Marriage doesn’t get easier…it only gets harder. If you marry someone hoping it will improve things, you might as well set your timer the second you say, ‘I do.’”

“What wrong reasons did they have to get married?”

“Me and Les,” he says emphatically. “They knew each other less than a month when my mother got pregnant. My dad married her, thinking it was the right thing to do, when maybe the right thing to do was to never knock her up in the first place.”

“Accidents happen,” I say.