Page 17 of Chasing Hope

He’s quiet for a moment. The rush of people, boarding announcements, and static fill the silence. He probably called me the second the plane wheels hit the landing strip. Evie means everything to Caleb. He’s always been protective of her, though if you ask me, sometimes he can be a bit too protective. It’s why I’m pushing for him not to come back right away.

Is that the real reason?A little voice whispers.

Swatting it away like I have with anything that steps outside the bounds of friendship with Evie, I clear my throat, the sound seeming to trigger Caleb out of his silent stupor.

“You promise you’ll tell me if she needs me?”

“Absolutely, hand on heart.”

Caleb’s sigh floats through the phone. “Fine, but the second she says she needs me, I’m running.”

“I don’t expect anything less. It’s why she hasn’t asked you to come home.”

He chuckles over the line. “Okay, maybe I can be a little?—”

“Suffocating?” I supplydryly.

“I was going to say protective, dick, but yeah, whatever.”

A snort escapes me.

“Fuck, I think a chick recognized me. Gotta go. Send me all the updates and tell V to call me the second she wakes up!”

“Will do. Good luck with the bunny.”

Ending the call, I drop my phone on the bed before throwing myself down next to it. I flop my arm over my head, but immediately wince. The swelling in my hand has gone down now that I’ve iced it, but the bruising is making it look god-awful.

Evie was right about one thing—I’m lucky it’s off season. If Coach saw my hand like this he’d blow a lid. As Ashford would say, thebullin him would come out and charge.

Evie can never know what Carter said today,ever, and I hope Felicity has the decency to keep her lips shut too, but something tells me she doesn’t.

She and Evie have been inseparable since they met in college. I can’t believe she’d stoop so low to betray her like this. Although, it doesn’t completely surprise me. Felicity has tried to hit on me behind Caleb and Evie’s back one too many times.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be shocked at all.

I snatch my laptop off the bedside table, pulling up Google. I’m not sure why I would search this, but I don’t want to stumble my way through this and do more harm than good.

“Dear lord, here we go,” I mutter under my breath, then hit enter. The results that pop up make my brows rise.

Google Search:

How to help my best friend through a break-up.

My eyes fly across the screen, trying to comprehend half the crap I’m reading. Painting her toenails? Putting on face masks? Buying new shoes? How is any of this supposed to make her feel better about being betrayed by her friend and ex-boyfriend?

Growling with frustration, I close my laptop lid.

One thing that actually makes sense, mentioned across various articles, is that Evie needs to gain herconfidence back—her spark. Could I help her with that, though, or is that more of a solo adventure?

I’ve never had to gain my spark back. Not sure I ever had it in the first place. Most people tell me I have a dark cloud hanging over my head, although if you grew up with the parents I had—or should I say lack of—you’d have one, too.

My parents are both surgeons, damn good ones at that. Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of their accomplishments. Now that I’m an adult, I can look at all they’ve achieved and admit it took a lot out of them.

As their child, though, I despise the environment they created for me.

They made our home as sterile as their operating rooms—cold, emotionless, and borderline lifeless. It’s why I spent so much time at the Ellingtons, why I spent more time sleeping in the bed Caleb’s parents bought me and set up in his room. I even had my own dresser. The Ellingtons deserve parental rights for raising me.

It’s why C and I are so close; he’s more a brother than a friend. Evie, on the other hand…I’ve never been able to view her as a sister, even though I met her at seven years old and spent so much time around her.