Page 138 of Chasing Hope

Unfortunately, I had a Felicity at a time in my life where I was at my lowest.

She was shocked when I told her of course, supportive to the naked eye, but she changed after that. Perhaps that’s when she went after Carter, but by then, he wasn’t really mine anymore. The deleted text messages were already occurring, staff parties and dinners that had him stumbling home at four a.m. with no explanations as to why he was so late.

Cruel words cutting me down. Sneered glances at my naked body.

I didn’t choose to tell Carter. That choice was taken away from me. He was the one that triggered it all; he wastherewhen I remembered.

And maybe that’s why he had, because in the cruelest of ways, day by day, he had slowly morphed into someone who resembled my abuser.

A mask of niceties in public, a monster in private.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, cocooned by Matteo’s warmth as he breaks around me, I realize I feel relieved after finally telling him. He is the firstsafeperson I have shared this with.

And the stark difference between his reaction and those who were meant to support me is night and day.

Matteo pulls back, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy, tears streaking down his beautiful golden-brown skin. He lifts his hands, the callouses on them gently scraping my cheeks as he cups my face like I’m a broken bird in need of mending.

“I am so sorry,” he says so earnestly it steals my breath. “I am so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” His voice cracks. “I am so sorry I didn’t save you.”

With his eyes, he speaks words he doesn’t know how to say, a million thoughts floating through his green depths, the ancient wisdom of the forest shining within them, and I believe every word.

People say they’re sorry all the time.

It’s a phrase that slips past our lips before we even give much thought as to why we’re saying it. You can say you’re sorry without truly meaning it, but I can see it across every inch of his face.

I can see it in the way his thick brows, the same color as his black hair furrows, the way his full bottom lip trembles, the way the muscle in his cut jaw ticks.

And he goes and solidifies it by affirming, “I would do anything to erase the past for you. I would move heaven and earth if it meant that never happened to you.”

My throat burns, a boulder rising, the ball of emotion everything I want to express but getting trapped. But I know I don’t need to voice it. Like him, he can read everything on my face.

Leaning forward, he places a featherlight kiss against my forehead, and the gentle touch makes the tears pooling in my eyes fall again.

Matteo keeps his hands on me as he asks again, death in his voice, “Who hurt you?”

My swallow is audible.

I squeeze his hands gently, pulling them from my face and holding them between us as I whisper, “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” he says brokenly. “It matters, Evie. What happened to youmatters.”

“I’m not denying that. It’s just…”

I can’t tell him.

No one can know.

Look at what happened when I told my mom.

As if he’s inside my mind, his eyes widen. A look of horror encompasses him, his voice breaking like shattered glass. “Your mom knows, doesn’t she? That’s why you’ve been arguing with her.” He blinks furiously. I don’t have to answer him. The puzzle pieces of the passing weeks are coming into focus. “You said thatday that they knew. You were talking about this, weren’t you? Wait, did you tell them after Thanksgiving?”

Matteo rises quickly, anger thrumming through him, wafting off his body like he’s an inferno and singeing everything in his path.

I pour gasoline on his fire as I whisper, “Yes.”

Matteo stops his pacing, looking down at me as if I just told him he’s going to die tomorrow. I’ve never seen devastation on someone like now, have never seen someone so distraught.

He shakes his head. “How could they know and not doanything?” He pushes forward, kneeling in front of me again, his eyes flicking back and forth as he searches my face. “What did she say to you last night? What did your mom say?”