Hopeless

me and turns me toward him, brushing at my eyes with his thumbs.
    “You’re scaring me, babe.” He’s looking at me and he’s worried. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to regain control, because I have no idea what the hell is happening and I can’t breathe. I can hear myself crying and I can’t inhale a breath because of it.
    I look at the clock on the nightstand and it says three. Things are starting to come back into focus now, but…why am I crying?
    “Why are you crying, babe?” Holder asks. He pulls me to him and I let him. He feels safe. He feels like home when I’m wrapped up in him. He holds me and rubs my back, kissing the side of my head every now and then. He keeps saying, “Don’t worry,” over and over and he holds me for what feels like forever.
    The weight gradually lifts off my chest, the sadness dissipates and I’m eventually no longer crying.
    I’m scared though, because nothing like this has ever happened to me before. Never in my life have I felt sadness this unbearable, so how could it feel so real from a dream?
    “You okay?” he whispers.
    I nod against his chest.
    “What happened?”
    I shake my head. “I don’t know. I guess it was a bad dream.”
    “Want to talk about it?” He soothes my hair with his hands.
    I shake my head. “No. I don’t want to remember it.”
    He hugs me for a long time, then kisses me on the forehead. “I don’t want to leave you, but I need to go. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
    I nod, but I don’t release my grip. I want to beg him not to leave me alone, but I don’t want to sound desperate and terrified. People have bad dreams all the time; I don’t understand why I’m responding like this.
    “Go back to sleep, Sky. Everything’s okay, you just had a bad dream.”
    I lay back down on the bed and close my eyes. I feel his lips brush against my forehead, and then he’s gone.

I give both Breckin and Max a hug in the parking lot of the gallery. The gallery showing has ended and Holder and I are going back to his place. I know I should be nervous about what might happen between us tonight, but I’m not nervous at all. Everything with him feels right. Well, everything except the phrase that keeps repeating over and over in my head.
    I love you, Hope.
    I want to ask him about it, but I can’t find the right moment. The gallery showing certainly wasn’t the place to bring it up. Now seems like a good time, but every time I open my mouth to do it, I clamp it shut again. I think I’m more afraid of who she is and what she means to him than I am of actually working up the nerve to bring it up. The longer I put off asking him about it, the longer I have before I’m forced to learn the truth.
    “You want to grab something to eat?” he asks, pulling out of the parking lot.
    “Yeah,” I say quickly, relieved that he interrupted my thoughts. “A cheeseburger sounds good. And cheese fries. And I want a chocolate milkshake.”
    He laughs and takes my hand in his. “A little demanding are we, Princess?”
    I let go of his hand and turn to face him. “Don’t call me that,” I snap.
    He glances at me and can more than likely see the anger on my face, even in the dark.
    “Hey,” he says soothingly, picking up my hand again. “I don’t think you’re demanding, Sky. It was a joke.”
    I shake my head. “Not demanding. Don’t call me princess. I hate that word.”
    He gives me a sidelong glance, then shifts his eyes back to the road. “Okay.”
    I turn my gaze out the window, trying to get the word out of my head. I don’t know why I hate nicknames so much, but I do. And I know I overreacted just now, but he can never call me that again. He also shouldn’t call me by the name of any of his ex-girlfriend’s either. He should just stick to Sky…it’s much safer.
    We drive in complete silence and I become increasingly more regretful for reacting like I did. If anything, I should be more upset by the fact that he called me by another girl’s name than by referring to me as Princess. It’s almost like I’m displacing my anger because I’m too afraid to bring up what’s really bothering me. Honestly, I just want a drama-free night with him tonight. There’ll be plenty of time to ask him about Hope another day.
    “I’m sorry, Holder.”
    He squeezes my hand and pulls it onto his lap, but doesn’t say anything else.
    When we pull into his driveway, I get out of the car. We never did stop for food, but I don’t even feel