Page 53 of Chasing Hope

“Good to know my body’s not the only one giving out,” I say.

“Anyone’s body would give out after that. Jesus fuckingChrist, Dove, what were you trying to do? Get a running head start to shoot yourself into space? Your legs were flying.”

For the first time in over a week, I laugh. A deep belly laugh that starts out slow and gradually builds to the point where my stomach and cheeks join my other body aches.

To my utter delightful surprise, Matteo’s deep gravelly laugh follows. Angling my head, I watch him, his eyes on the glowing sky and the setting sun.

“You’re beautiful when you laugh,” I whisper.

Matteo turns to me. “Beautiful, you say? What happened to not stroking my ego? I thought I had to get on my knees for that.”

If my cheeks are blushing, I have no idea, the heat from my run overriding any sensation. “Pretty sure you earned a compliment or two after running ten miles with me,” I tease. “Although I’d still kill to see you on your knees begging.”

“Mm-hmm,” he hums. “I’m sure it’s a glorious sight.”

We both fall quiet for a moment, our eyes never straying from each other as the tension between us thickens, the string on each end meeting in the middle and exploding.

What if Matteo is the only man I’ll feel safe around?

Matteo seems to be the only person I can stare at and feel all the normal feelings a woman should have while looking at a beautiful person. Lust, need, desire—he makes my skin hum, my blood flow with a burning desperation.

When Carter tried to be intimate with me, my entire body locked up. I even stopped breathing at times. But that doesn’t happen with Matteo. If anything, I seek out his touch in any way I can get it.

The eyes I’ve adored since we were young flick between my own before he whispers gutturally, “What did she do to you?”

The question stuns me, mostly because I thought I was getting away with him not asking questions. I assumed he was allowing me to wallow while I tried to sweep it under the rug. But the other reason is because of the look on his face. It’s as if he’s prepared to go to war for me.

My voice croaks as I admit, “She broke my heart.”

His eyes melt. “Can I help mend it?”

Smiling softly, I do something I’ve never done before—I don’t suppress the urge to touch him. Reaching out, I ever so softly cup his cheek. “You’re already helping.”

Matteo’s hand comes up to mine, my heart rising in my throat with the movement. I prepare for him to remove my touch but instead, he gently places his hand over mine, holding me to him. “It doesn’t feel like I’m doing enough,” he whispers roughly.

“You’re doing more than enough. You’re holding my head above water.”

“I would let myself drown in order to save you.”

Matteo’s eyes close slowly as he moves his head, just a fraction, and I could swear he’s stopping himself from nuzzling further into my touch.

We’ve never done this before.

This is all unchartered territory.

My focus should solely be on picking myself back up, on getting my life sorted and my shit together, and yet lying here in the middle of a deserted park with Matteo in downtown Denver as the sun sets has never felt more right.

“You just have to keep trying, okay? Don’t give up again like you did this week.”

His words stun me into silence for a moment. The utter plea in his voice has my heart skipping a beat.

“I’ll try.”

“That terrified me, Evie.”

I can’t help but suck in a sharp hiss of air at him using my first name. It’s always been Dove.

Matteo’s voice is hoarse as he goes on. “It utterlyterrifiedme.” He pauses. “I thought I was losing you.”