Page 6 of Chasing Hope

“I had to beg him to brush his teeth. Sometimes it would be two, three o’clock in the afternoon and he still hadn’t brushed his teeth.”

Matteo isn’t an expressive person—his cards are always close to his chest. But this time, with his wide eyes and slack jaw, I know exactly what he’s thinking.

I hold up a hand. “You can judge me for my choices later. Right now, they’re still up there fucking, not caring that they got caught, so that optimal damage you spoke of, can we do that now?” A hysterical bubble of laughter rises in my chest, but it doesn’t hold an ounce of humor. “Honestly, I don’t think anything we do can stop the knowledge that my best friend is still?—”

I’m cut off by bile, the image of Carter moving over her, my supposed best friend clawing at his back as she moanedmyboyfriend’s name.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” I announce bluntly, as if discussing something as mundane as the weather.

It’s the only warning Matteo gets before I’m leaning forward and vomiting all over Carter’s car.

A gentle hand lands on my back, and then my hair is pulled back from my face. “It’s okay, Evie. Let it all out.”

His voice, his tone—it’s soft, the softest I’ve ever heard it.

I should be mortified. I’m a hot mess, and yet I can’t find a shred of dignity to feel embarrassed. All I feel is the betrayal, the knowledge that the two people in this world that I opened up to, the people I bared my soul to, just betrayed me in the most hurtful way.

Carter changed that night. It was already getting bad between us. The façade, the mask he wore to lure me in, was slowly peeling off, but after that night, he tore it from his face and showed me how ugly he is on the inside.

I confessed to Felicity after an impromptu breakdown. Both of them know how much pain I’m in right now. They know how badly I’m struggling.

For fuck’s sake, I got fired today because my head is so far up in the clouds that I’ve made too many mistakes to come back from. I haven’t slept in months, can barely close my eyes for a second before memories flash behind my eyelids, ones so haunting I wouldn’t even wish them upon Carter or Felicity.

I am barely holding on by a thread.

I’ve lost my childhood.

I’ve lost my sanity.

My job.

My best friend.

My boyfriend.

I have losteverything.

The only person I had left to call was Caleb, and I guess, in turn, Matteo. One is never far from the other, and if they are, they’re constantly in contact. I swear, you’d thinktheyare related, not Caleb and me.

My bile is quickly replaced by tears that won’t stop flowing. My knees give way but Matteo is there to catch me. He always has been, ever since I was a little girl.

My cries are turning hysterical I know that and I’m not eventhat sad over Carter, not really. He was a horrible partner, but it’s more so about who he cheated on me with. It’s the fact they both know what I’m facing and decided to pour more pain into my life.

“How could she?” I hear myself whisper. “She knows. Sheknowshow much I’m hurting.” Clutching my chest to try and stop the ache, I beg, “Please make it stop. Just make the pain stop.”

Not needing to hear anything more, Matteo’s arms come around me, the baseball bat dropping from my hand with the movement. It falls to the ground, hitting the shards of glass. Laying my head on his chest, I’m too distraught to think about wiping the mascara off my face before it stains his white shirt. I’m too far gone to notice anything besides the misery slamming into my heart like a freight train.

Why does everyone who’s meant to protect me hurt me?

I didn’t realize we were moving, Matteo scooping me up and carrying me, until he gently places me in the passenger seat of his car. His car is a short one, a sleek Mercedes sedan, so it forces Matteo to get on his knees. If I weren’t so fucked up in the head right now, I’d be making a joke about him getting on his knees for me, but nothing seems to penetrate through my mind but pain these days.

Tears are filling my eyes so quickly that no matter how much I blink, my vision never clears. Matteo’s beautiful face keeps smudging and blurring as he leans over and buckles me in.

“What is your apartment number?” he asks gently.

I hiccup but manage to croak out, “Thirty-four.”

His finger lifts, his thumb capturing one of my many tears as he wipes it away. “Stay here, Dove.”