Hold on to Hope - A.L. Jackson Page 0,6

from my piece-of-shit biological father, but there’d been nothing I could do to stand up for her because I was just a weak little kid.

Now, standing there as a man? I wanted to fucking weep because it’d turned out that I was a pussy after all.

A coward.

One who’d run when everything had felt too dark and bleak.

Turning away for a beat, I gripped at my hair, hardly able to look back at her because Mom was sure as hell not making concessions right then.

Wasn’t about to give me an easy out.

I didn’t deserve one.

Could feel Jenna and Carly watching in their own horror, and everything trembled when I forced myself to speak. “And I’ve spent every day of the last three years hating what I did and feeling like it was the only decision I could make at the same time.”

WHY? she begged.

I hesitated, warred, then finally said, “I just . . . needed to find myself. Away from all of this.”

It was bullshit.

She knew it was, too.

Because grief was striking on her face and then she was throwing herself at me.

Wrapping her arms around both of us.

The same arms that had fought for me my entire life.

Through all my disabilities.

My genetic defects.

My deafness and this fucking transplanted heart that some days I wondered how it was still beating.

Because of her. That was why.

This woman who’d wrapped me in comfort and joy and steadfast belief.

Refusing to give up hope when she’d been told there was nothing left to be hoping for.

She hugged us tight, tears seeping into my shirt. Could feel her sobs. The tremble of her body. After a long time, she pried herself away, her face full of anguish, only to shift and pull Everett into her arms.

She was whimpering, hugging him and murmuring and kissing the side of his head.

And she didn’t even know his name.

It was the reason I’d come.

The reason I’d known this was the only place I could go.

She looked over at me through the tears in her eyes.

Silent questions pouring free.

Is he healthy?

Does he carry your disease?

God, how could you let this happen?

I lifted my hands and gave her the only answer that I could.

HIS NAME IS EVERETT. EVERETT CHASE.

Everett Chase who I hadn’t known existed until three nights ago.

Everett Chase who had been thrown into my arms in the middle of the night with a plea and a warning.

Everett Chase who I didn’t know but was determined to protect.

Whatever it took.

It was surreal pulling into my parent’s circular driveway. Massive trees stood like age-old sentries around the property, sheltering its borders, a vast canopy that stretched out to protect the big white house tucked at the back. Yard immaculate. As immaculate as the wrap-around porch that fronted the first level.

Nostalgia whipped through my entire being as I pulled to a stop. It was in the same neighborhood where Frankie Leigh had lived. Where her parents and brothers still lived two houses down and across the street.

After my mom and Kale had gotten married, they’d purchased this place. Frankie’s father, Rex, and his company had come in and renovated it.

Made it better than brand-new.

Putting my car in park, I scrubbed my face with my palms, hoping it might break up the disorder.

Blowing out a strained breath, I cranked open the door and climbed out. I went straight for the back-passenger door, and I swung it open to Everett who was smiling so big at me it made everything hurt.

My heart and my spirit and my mind.

Guts twisted.

How the fuck did this happen?

The kid was sixteen-months-old. All emerald eyes and dimpled, chubby cheeks and trusting face.

“Hey, Chunky Monk.” I rumbled the nickname I’d given him that first night when I’d held him for hours to try to calm him down because he freaked the fuck out every time I’d tried to set him down. As I’d comforted him and he’d clung to me and I’d paced for hours as I’d tried to figure out what to do.

Probably should have gone straight to the police, and somehow, I’d shown up here.

Everett made a bunch of sounds that I felt rather than heard.

His sweetness skating my skin. Fisting my heart in a tight clamp.

I undid the buckles of his car seat. “It’s going to be okay, Everett. I promise I’m going to figure out what the hell is going on. Promise I won’t let anything happen to you,” I swore to him, not even sure if the words coming off my tongue were making any sense,

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