ABANDON ALL HOPE: The Hope Brother Series (Book Two) (4 page)

Every time I caught of whiff of it, or noticed how the new wooden boards in my sister’s horse’s stall were a different color than the old weathered ones that my father had used years ago, I was stricken with guilt.

The therapist that led my court-ordered therapy groups said it would pass, or at least fade a little.  I was still waiting for that to happen.

For now, I did my best to avoid all thoughts of the past.    I tried not to think about the way things used to be.  I tried not to think about my parents at all, but I sucked at that, too.

Most of all, I tried not to think about all the damage I had caused.  

Not just physical damage, although there was a lot of that - to the old shed, the tool barn, the horse barn, and even Mr. Evan’s bar - but the damage that I had done to my family and my relationships with my siblings haunted me.  I still wasn’t convinced they had entirely forgiven me, and I was pretty sure Crit would never trust me again, no matter what.

That was the price I had to pay for being a complete idiot.  Susan, my therapist in group, told me not to be so hard on myself, that I should forgive myself, but I didn’t seem to know how to do that.

After my parent’s accident, I was so lost, so heart broken, so completely devastated that I didn’t know how to communicate with anyone.  Georgia, Seth, Crit and I all scattered in different directions, each of us trying to find comfort in our own way, instead of banding together and leaning on each other like we should have.

I internalized all the pain, and when it all got to be too much to contain, something inside of me ignited.  I felt like I had a fire of rage burning inside of me, and I lashed out at the very people that I needed the most.  

My family.

After that first fire, everything just spiraled out of control. I had set fire to the shed - I guess because I was so angry at my parents for dying, for leaving us all alone to figure everything out afterwards, and I couldn’t lash out at them.  

I shouldn’t have been mad at them.  The semi slamming into their car certainly wasn’t their fault. 

But I wasn’t thinking logically back then.  

All I knew was that I was hurting - a lot - and I needed to do something, anything, to let that pain out of me.

My family had been falling apart from the inside out.  Crit was overwhelmed with the farm and the rodeo.   Seth was just Seth - always self-absorbed and self-centered.  Georgia was beside herself with grief, and when she told me about what Lee Haggard had tried to do to her, I turned my rage in his direction.  

When I was walking by Evan’s bar one day, I saw him throw Lee out.  In some crazy misdirected anger, I set fire to the bar for letting Lee hang out there in the first place.  I know, it was stupid.  I know, it doesn’t make any sense at all.

And then, when Georgia told me that she and Beau Haggard were going to get married, all out of the blue like that, well I just snapped.  It was the straw that broke Jesse Hope’s back, I guess.  

All I wanted to do was go back to the way things were.  Our farm represented the past, it represented my parents, and it represented everything that I had lost. And yet, because they had died, I was tied to it permanently.  It was a constant reminder of their death.  It was a sick twist of fate and I resented the fact that everyone just assumed we would all devote our lives to the farm just because they had died. 

In that moment, I hated Hope Against Hope Farms with all my heart.  I had set the barn fire in a rage-filled rampage, without thinking about the horses, and once I did, once I snapped back into reality - I desperately tried to get them out of there before they got hurt.  

It wasn’t their fault I was hurting.  

I panicked, and the fire blazed higher and hotter every second.  As I opened Cherokee’s stall, he thundered past me with wild fear-filled eyes, pushing me to the floor.  I hit my head and passed out, leaving the other horses locked in the blazing barn.  I couldn’t save them, and I couldn’t save myself, either. I had put everything in mortal danger.

And then, somehow, in the end, it was Lee Haggard who saved me.  

I owed him my life.  

I know, none of it makes sense.  It didn’t make sense to me then, and it doesn’t make sense now.  

I just try to get through every day counting my blessings, as hard as it is.  

If it had been anyone else’s property that I had burnt down, if Mr. Evans hadn’t been so forgiving, and if Judge Patterson hadn’t felt sorry for me because he had known my family all his life - I wouldn’t have gotten off with doing a year of community service, group therapy, anger management classes and a promise to help my brother rebuild the farm.

I was lucky.  I sure as hell didn’t feel like it most days, considering my heart was still full of misery. But I guess even a blind hog finds an acorn now and then.

If it weren’t for my family, I don’t know where I’d be.  Instead, here I was, totally thankful to be here cleaning stalls and helping my family in any way I could.  

I was determined to win back Crit’s trust and respect, no matter what it took.

I only had one more week of community service and therapy left and afterwards, I had every intention of giving every second of my time to doing just that.

In the meantime, I spent every free moment taking care of the horses, their stalls, and anything else that needed done around the farm.  

After everything that had happened, I was more grateful than ever for our land, our house, and our family.  Nothing meant more to me than my siblings, and I finally knew what it meant to be thankful for where you came from.

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

Eva Montgomery could charm the dew right off the honeysuckle.

“Eva, we’re not going to get anything done like this,” I said, as I sank myself into her warm center.  We were supposed to be strategizing and organizing our new business venture, but as usual, we couldn’t seem to keep our bodies from demanding we press them against each other until we were properly satiated.

She smiled up at me, watching as I thrust into her from above, her hips rising and falling with each stroke.  She moaned, her eyes closing as her head fell back against her pillow.

“Oh, what the hell,” I said, giving in and giving Eva exactly what I knew she wanted. What I wanted, too. Hard, fast, and with exact precision, I pushed into her, hitting her favorite spots with each stroke down and pulling the pleasure from her center with each sweet slide out.  

Eva Montgomery’s tight body was my favorite one to sink into these days.  It wasn’t always like that, as I had a habit of puttin’ my boots under the bed of almost any woman that would have me.  But what starts out simple and easy almost always turns out complicated and messy.  

If I had a nickel for every time a woman decided she wanted more than a quick roll in the hay, I’d be able to buy up half of Sugar Hill county by now.  Feelings developed as fast as lightening and since I seemed to be impossible at reciprocating them, hearts were broken, and that was the end of the good times right there.

But not with Eva Montgomery.  

She was different, and it wasn’t just because she was married to Sheriff Montgomery.  

It was almost like she was the female version of me.  She saw sex for what it was - a brief respite from reality, a fun adventure, a quick connection of two hungry souls, and when it was over - you moved on, went back to the monotony of your life and took care of your business.

She was drop dead gorgeous, too.  Her yoga toned body splayed out before me, and as I looked down at her long tan limbs, her taught stomach and the enticing swell of her hips that continued to rise and fall in perfect rhythm with mine, my cock swelled as I picked up the pace.

Eva was easy, in a lazy Sunday morning, no-nonsense kind of way.  She provided absolutely zero drama - she was perfect for me.

I didn’t even care that she was married.  Sure, the thought of her hoppin’ on that fat Sheriff’s cock was something I tried not to think about, but according to Eva that was something that didn’t happen but once a year anyway.

I guess that’s why I didn’t feel guilty about it.  Or, maybe I’m just an inconsiderate heartless bastard - I’m not exactly sure which.

What I did know was that Eva had come up with a genius plan to make some money, and while I may have been the hero of the town for a short while after rescuing Jesse Hope from that stupid fucking fire, the truth of the matter was that the townsfolk had short memories, and there wasn’t anyone lining up to give me a job that didn’t include bustin’ my ass in the hot Texas sun that I tended to be allergic to.

I wasn’t a stupid man.  I knew it would benefit me greatly if I could keep Eva happy.  In more ways than one, in fact.

She reached down, her fingers sliding over her clit as I sped up.

“Lee, yes, yes, yes, don’t stop!” she moaned, her body crashing over the edge and pulling me right along with it.  I exploded inside her, the world disappearing around us, any other thoughts drowned out by the blissful, unattached pleasure that washed over us, until I was still and quiet inside of her.  Her legs wrapped around my hips, pulling me closer into her.  

I captured her lips in mine as we came down, the soft silent moment of release providing an elusive slice of peacefulness that I only seemed to find in the feminine perfectionism of the Eva’s body.

She kissed me back slowly, languishly, as I continued to move inside her, her soft hands caressing my back until I was hard once again.

Fuck it
, I thought to myself, as I twitched inside of her smooth warmth.  

Work can wait.

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

 Barnard Johnson’s office was on the edge of town, in a small brown house that he had operated out of for the last twenty years.  I parked my truck and strode down the flower lined walkway that led to the front door.

Today was Tuesday, and it was my busiest delivery day.  I had to start my day two hours early so I could make it to Johnson’s office on time, and I still had a ton of work to do at the farm before my day would end. 

I was looking forward to a shower and sitting on the porch watching the sun set over the farm with an ice cold beer in my hand. Or two. Maybe three or four, who the hell am I kidding?  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t drinking a little more than usual at the end of the day, but damn if I wasn’t doing the work of ten mules, also.

It just took a few more beers to relax now is all.

Relaxed is the last thing I was as I entered Johnson’s office.  His smile and handshake seemed extra sympathetic today, and I was immediately suspicious as he led me to his office and shut the door.

“Have a seat, Crit,” he said, gesturing to the leather chair in front of his desk.  We sat down and he peered at me through the skinny glasses that sat on the end of his skinnier nose.  “How’s everything going, Crit?”