Losing Hope

moan, every touch of her hand against my skin. She’s my saving grace. My Hope.
    And I’m never walking away from her again.
    • • •
    I hear the door to her bedroom close, so I know she’s about to walk in on me cooking breakfast for her. I still haven’t explained what the hell I’ve done to her over the past month and I’m not sure that I can, but I’ll do whatever it takes to get her to accept it without letting her forgive me. No matter what happened between us last night, I still don’t deserve her forgiveness and honestly, she’s not the type of girl who would put up with the shit I’ve put her through. If she forgave me, I feel like she would be compromising her strength. I don’t want her compromising anything about herself for my sake.
    I know she’s standing behind me. Before everything I’ve done catches back up with her again, I try to explain away the fact that I’ve made myself at home in her kitchen again.
    “I left early this morning,” I say with my back still turned to her, “because I was afraid your mom would walk in and think I was trying to get you pregnant. Then when I went for my run, I passed by your house again and realized her car wasn’t even home and remembered you said she does those trade days every month. So I decided to pick up some groceries because I wanted to cook you breakfast. I also almost bought groceries for lunch and dinner, but maybe we should take it one meal at a time today.”
    I turn around to face her and I don’t know if it’s because I’ve spent the last few weeks having to be so far away from her or what, but she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. I look her up and down, recognizing that this is the first time I’ve ever fallen in love with a piece of clothing before. What the hell is she trying to do to me?
    “Happy birthday,” I say casually, trying not to show her just how flustered I am looking at her in that outfit. “I really like that dress. I bought real milk, you want some?” I take a glass and pour her some milk, then slide it to her. She eyes the milk warily but I don’t give her time to drink it. Seeing those lips and that mouth and . . . shit .
    “I need to kiss you,” I say, walking swiftly to her. I take her face in my hands. “Your mouth was so damn perfect last night, I’m scared I dreamt that whole thing.” I expect her to resist, but she doesn’t. Instead, I’m met with eager perfection when she grabs me by the shirt with both hands and kisses me back. Knowing that she still wants me after all I’ve put her through makes me appreciate her even more. And knowing I still have a chance with her?
    That I’ll still get to kiss her like this?
    It’s almost too much.
    I separate from her and back away, smiling. “Nope. Didn’t dream it.”
    I face the stove again so that I can stop concentrating on her mouth long enough to make her a plate of food. I have so much I need to say to her and I don’t even know where or how to start. I fix our plates and walk them to the bar where she’s seated.
    “Are we allowed to play Dinner Quest, even though it’s breakfast time?” I ask her.
    She nods. “If I get the first question.”
    She isn’t smiling. She hasn’t smiled for me in over a month. I hate that I’m the reason she doesn’t smile anymore.
    I lay my fork down on my plate and bring my hands up, clasping them under my chin. “I was thinking about just letting you have all the questions,” I say.
    “I only need the answer to one,” she says.
    I sigh, knowing for a fact she needs more than just one answer. But the fact that she only wants the answer to one question leads me to believe she’s about to ask me about the bracelet. And that’s the one question I’m not willing to share the answer to just yet.
    She leans forward in her chair and I brace myself for her question.
    “How long have you been using drugs, Holder?”
    I immediately look up at her, not expecting that to have been her question at all. It comes from so far out of left field that I keep my eyes locked with hers, but the randomness of the question makes me want to laugh. Maybe I should be disturbed by the fact that my behavior has given her such an absurd thought, but instead I feel nothing but relief.
    I’m trying. I’m trying so hard not to laugh, but the anger in her eyes is adorable. It’s adorable and beautiful and honest and I’m so relieved . I have to look away from her because I’m trying my