Page 208 of Chasing Hope

The door behind me opens. Wiping my mouth, I lift my head to find my best friend, not looking any better than I do. His usually kept hair is tousled as if he’s run his hands through it a thousand times. His normally golden-brown skin is ashen, his eyes bloodshot.

Does he hate me too? Does Evie?

Do they hate me for not saving her?

Do they hate me like I hate myself?

My lower lip wobbles for what feels like the thousandth time.

“Does it ever stop?” I ask, my voice like broken glass.

“Does what?”

“The hatred? The self-loathing? I can’t stop imagining what he did, I can’t stop seeing it…I can’t fucking stop it, Matteo.Ididn’t stop it.”

“We didn’t know, Caleb.”

I face him fully as another tear slowly rolls down my cheek. “I should have known. She’s my sister, and he was my dad—” Istumble over that word, that broken word that will never be the same again. Pounding my chest, I cry, “I should have noticed. I should have stopped it. I was just down the fucking hall while he was hurting her!”

I’m screaming now, my voice breaking, but it’s nothing compared to how much my heart physically hurts. I’d take a bullet over this pain; I’d take getting hit by a train over feeling this.

I want it to stop.

I want it all to stop.

I want my thoughts to stop spinning.

I want the pain to stop consuming me.

I want my head to not feel so full of the hatred for myself that demands me to pick up a blade and?—

Matteo steps into my space, his arms coming around me, and it’s all my body needs to jump off the ledge it’s been dancing along. I crumble for the hundredth time since hearing what our father did to my sister.

“I know,” he whispers, his own voice hoarse. “I know,” he repeats, and then suddenly, I’m not the only one breaking, not the only one crying.

Matteo Valenti, man made of steel, shatters in my arms for the girl we both love.

“I was just down the hall,” I whisper mournfully.

“We both were.”

I pull back, tears rolling unabashedly down Matteo’s cheeks. “How did we not know?”

He shakes his head, a muscle feathering in his jaw. “He was good at hiding, good at putting on a façade. Most pedophiles are. They’re skilled manipulators.” He pauses. “He didn’t want anyone to know, Caleb. Of course we weren’t going to see signs.”

A derisive snort escapes me. Stepping away, I wipe off my face, sniffling. “And to think I was being a dick to her while she was dealing with all of this…” The guilt that’s been a constant pain rears its ugly head again, stealing the breath from me.

“You didn’t know, Caleb.”

I shake my head. “There’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have been adick regardless of this.” Something cracks inside my chest as I whisper, “Did I not make her feel safe enough to tell me?”

It shouldn’t even be a thought. It fucking shouldn’t, and yet it is.

Why Matteo?

Why not me?

His lips thin into what appears to be his attempt of a sad smile. “I tried to convince her to tell you. She was hellbent on not upsetting you.”