Ari sighed. “Hope is... different. She’s quiet. Gentle. She doesn’t fit the mold of what you would expect from a woman raised in our world. Neither does Faith, for that matter. They’re both softer than their brothers, more reserved with reason. But that doesn’t mean they’re weak, Chapman. It just means they process things differently.”
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “I need to talk to her, Ari. But I don’t know how. I don’t know what to say.”
“Then start with the truth,” she said simply. “Tell her what happened. Tell her why you did what you did. And then listen to what she has to say.”
“What if she hates me?”
“What if she doesn’t?”
The question hung in the air between us, heavy and impossible.
“You need to speak with Hope,” Ari said firmly. “I will try my best to run interference with Ghost, but you need to speak with Hope before you do anything else. And for what it’s worth, Chapman... I think you and Hope could make a go of it if that’s what you both want. You are both similar in a lot of ways.”
My chest tightened. “Similar how?”
“You’re both grieving,” she whispered softly. “You’re both carrying pain that no one else can see. And you’re both trying to figure out how to move forward when everything inside you is screaming to stay stuck in the past.”
I closed my eyes, pressing the heel of my hand against my chest where the ache had taken up permanent residence.
“Look, Chapman, I need to go,” Ari said gently. “Just talk with Hope. Be honest with her. And whatever happens... don’t run. She deserves better than that.”
And just like that, the line went dead.
I sat there in the parking lot, staring at the phone in my hand, Ari’s words echoing in my mind.
You’re both grieving. You’re both carrying pain that no one else can see. Don’t run.
Through the diner window, I could see Hope laughing at something a customer said. A polite, practiced laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. She looked tired. Sad. Like she was holding herself together with sheer willpower and nothing else.
And I knew what I had to do.
I had to talk to her. Had to ask her the question that had been eating me alive for two weeks. I had to face the consequences of what I had done, no matter how terrifying that was, and I just had to figure out how to do it without getting myself killed.
Or worse—without breaking her heart all over again.
Chapter Fourteen
Hope
“Have a good night, Mr. Patterson,” I called out, following the last customer to the door. The elderly trucker tipped his worn baseball cap at me, his weathered face creasing into a smile.
“You too, sweetheart. Drive safe.”
I locked the door behind him, flipping the deadbolt with a soft click that echoed through the now-empty diner. The neon “OPEN” sign buzzed faintly above my head, casting red and blue shadows across the checkered floor. I reached up and switched it off, plunging the front windows into darkness.
When I turned around, Stacey was wiping down the counter, her movements efficient and practiced. She glanced up at me, her blonde ponytail swinging as she worked.
“You want me to start on the booths?” she asked.
I shook my head, already reaching for the spray bottle and rag she had left on the counter. “No, I’ve got it. You should head home early. Be with your little boy.”
Stacey paused, her hand stilling on the counter. “You sure? I don’t mind staying.”
“I’m sure.” I forced a smile that felt brittle on my face. “Go. Enjoy your evening.”
She studied me for a moment, her eyes searching mine with that perceptive look she always had. The one that saw too much, understood too much. But she didn’t push. She never did.
“Thanks, Hope.” She untied her apron and hung it on the hook by the kitchen door. “You’re a lifesaver.”