Mom gives me a weak smile. “Can we talk downstairs?”
I narrow my eyes. “About what?”
She arches an eyebrow. “AboutwhatI saw.”
“You saw nothing,” I grumble.
Her lips twitch. “Come downstairs. I want to talk to you both.”
My mouth opens to argue but she exits the room.
“She hates me,” Hope cries out from behind me, her voice full of panic.
Taking her wrist, I guide her around until she's standing directly in front of me. With my palms, I cup her face and lean down and kiss her nose.
“No one can hate you, least of all my parents.”
“I think your dad does.”
“He hates everyone. The only person he likes is my mother.”
She bores her gaze into mine. “I don’t think that’s true. He cares about you.”
A surge of surprise hits me. “What?”
She places her hands on mine on her face. “He seemed worried about you when he suggested that you take me back so my parents wouldn’t cause problems for you.”
“He said that to hurt me.”
She shakes her head. “No, he didn’t. He was looking out for you.”
With a sigh, I decide not to argue with her over this. She doesn’t know my father like I do. He’s known to be cold, ruthless and powerful around the world. And that’s exactly how he is at home. I only know that side of him, but lately he’s been interfering into my matters, and that is every bit strange. Because all my life he’s kept a wall between us. He acted like he didn’t care about me and that’s buried deep inside me.
The same goes for my mother. She might have been not cruel but she has always kept distance between us.
They’re both the same.
I asked Hope’s mother why she made her leave and she gave me a reason. I wonder what reason my parents have for abandoning me. Why did they dig a hole in my chest that has never filled. I’ve tried to stuff things into it — making up excuses and conjuring up valid reasons — but nothing fits into it. It’s like a puzzle piece that I keep inserting but the corners are jagged or the size is too small.
“We should go downstairs.” Rose tugs me out of the room and I follow her.
My head has been in shambles since I had that conversation with her mother. In her own twisted, unreasonable way, she tried to protect her daughter. I hate her and what she said hasn’t changed my mind or anything, but it’s making me think that perhaps there is a will that drives people to do something and just because you don’t know it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.
Hope definitely thinks about why her mother kicked her out of nowhere, but she’s unaware that her mother was protecting her in her own strange way. I want to tell her, but she’ll start overthinking and for a little while I want the machines in her head to not overwork. She cares about people and gives them a benefit of the doubt — something she shouldn’t do. She should stay away from people who hurt her, but I know she isn’t that kind of person. I was mean to her in the beginning, because of how she made me feel, and took it out on her in words that were cold. But she still talked to me, stood in front of me and was kind to me — all of the things that she didn’t have to do. She was nice to me and wasn’t afraid of me. Her reluctance to not back down made me like her.And because she’s beautiful. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.
We get to the floor and she stops in her tracks. I feel the tremors running through her hand from where she is holding mine.
She’s nervous.
I give her hand a squeeze which makes her look up at me. “Relax. It’s okay.”
“What if she — ”
“Nothing is going to happen because I’m here with you.”
Doubt flickers through her gaze and pierces my heart like an arrow.
Titling her chin up with my other hand, I say, “Do you trust me?”
