Page 98 of Chasing Hope

“Indeed I am,” she says with a cheeky smile.

“Go on, stop delaying. Tell me everything.”

And she does. Every micro-detail.

At the end of the day, Evie is an open book. She loves to turn the pages, loves to share her secrets. She just wants to beheard. Unfortunately, her book ended up in the wrong hands and Carter, the fucking twat that he is, tried to close the book anytime she felt like being read.

That will never happen with me.

Ever.

I’m most excited to hear that she’s seemed to have made friends already. I knew the girls would welcome her with open arms—they’re the kindest women I’ve met—but I had a feeling Evie would need a branch outside of her brother’s team. Something that’s her own, connections she made through her own merit.

“Do you think you’ll still be friends with Bella, Layla, and Cindy?”

Evie’s eyes widen. “Oh, fuck yes. Those bitches aren’t getting rid of me easily.” Lifting her nose in the air, she says, “I’m in their book club now.”

“I’ve heard notorious things about it.”

“Like?”

“Just let me know when it’s Layla’s turn to pick a book.”

Evie gives me a dubious look. “It’s this month. Should I be concerned?”

Smiling to myself, I shake my head. “No.”

“Liar,” she teases.

Shrugging, I push off the counter, holding her gaze. “That’s good to hear, though. Kieran was saying today how much Layla likes you. Same with Bella and Cindy.”

Averting her eyes as a blush creeps along her cheeks, she whispers, “Good, because they’re really cool.”

A sudden heaviness fills the air, and if I had to guess, I’d bet my money that Evie fears making new friends after how her last close friendship ended. Quickly changing the subject, I point to the scattered images.

“What’s all this?”

“Oh, sorry for taking up all the space.”

“No, it’s fine.” Cocking my head, I spot a photograph of myself from our hike the other day. I’m standing in front of the lake, admiring the view, my hands on my hips. I don’t recognize the places or people in the others. “What is all of it, though?”

Evie perks up at my question. “I’m making a vision board.”

“A vision board?”

She nods, a spark in her eyes. “A board full of images of everything I want to accomplish.”

My brows lift as I take in the images before me with fresh eyes. Now that I know what it is, I can see it clearer. There’s piles, images organized into categories. Photos of a group of girls, of runners at what looks like a race, mountains, paddleboards, canoes. Travel destinations. Computer screens and phones for the dispatch academy.

Everything she wants in life.

Her new life.

Something warms in my chest, followed by a pang as my gaze slides to the photo of me by the lake. Could she ever envision me amongst everything she wants? Would I ever be able to make it onto her board permanently?

Would I ever be able to make it into her heart?

“What do you envision?”