Hope's Redemption (Redemption Road Book 2), page 16
He gave me a sly half smile. “You heard me.”
“What did you have in mind?”
He pulled a wrinkled piece of paper from his back pocket and handed it to me. It was a sketch of a bishop chess piece on a board that was melting in a sea of blood and fire, the only other piece, the queen, behind him as if he was protecting her. It was vivid and creative. I glanced up at him. “You drew this?”
He nodded.
“Bro. This is seriously cool as fuck.”
He rolled his eyes.
“I’m serious, Adam. This is amazing work. Are you sure I can’t talk you into working here? This kind of talent doesn’t fall in my lap every day.”
He looked me in the eye as if gauging my sincerity.
“This isn’t charity or some kind of handout because you’re family. You’d be starting from the ground up like any other apprentice. No fucking around. This is my business we’re talking about.” I waved his drawing in the air. “But this? This tells me you’ve got passion and skill, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’d love to have my brother working with me.”
“Serious?”
“I don’t fuck around about my business. I’ve worked too hard to get to where I am.”
I watched as the idea rolled around in his mind for a moment. The possibility. “Yeah, I guess I can try it out for a while,” he said. “If you turn out to be too big of a dick to work for, I can go find something else.”
I laughed. “Whatever.”
He laughed too, but the shine in his eyes told me it had been way too long since he’d heard any words of affirmation, and that was a damn shame.
“So,” I said, glancing again at his drawing. “Where is this bad boy going?”
He lifted his shirt to show me an empty expanse of rib cage and slapped his flesh. “Right here, big brother.”
“Jeez, Adam,” I groaned, knowing how much the ribs hurt to tattoo, especially a piece this large. “How about we tattoo your ball sac while we’re at it?”
He just shook his head and smiled like the cocky bastard he was.
I have to admit, he handled it like a fucking champ, and the tat turned out stellar. His design was impressive, and it looked even better inked on skin.
The rest of the day was good, with more happy clients, and I was pleasantly surprised to end my day with healthy profits and Hope McMasters.
She walked in wearing jeans and a plain black t-shirt, minimal makeup, and her hair down, looking as sexy as ever, and I was so damn happy to see her after so many days of what felt like being avoided.
“Hey,” I said with a smile. “I’m just finishing up here.”
She nodded and waved a hello to CJ and Adam, who were cleaning up in the back because I’d gotten Adam straight to work on his training.
I slid the register closed. “You good?”
Her eyes drifted my way again. “Sure. I just . . . I was hoping we could talk.”
“Sure. About what?”
Her eyes flitted to the back where CJ and my brother were talking in low tones. “Alone?”
Something in her voice had me on edge. I could feel that old familiar darkness creeping up on me that had surrounded my entire life after she left.
That was it.
It was the eyes. The empty way she stared at me, like she was already gone.
I yanked up my keys and hollered out a goodbye to the guys, then moved to the door, shoving it open, holding it for her without a word.
She stared up at me, silently asking me for something. Understanding maybe?
Eventually, she stepped outside, and I followed her toward her car.
She stopped next to her door, then turned to face me. “Tobias—”
I braced my feet wide and hooked my hands on my hips, needing to rip off this Band-Aid. “When are you leaving?”
She blinked up at me, everything about her body language screaming she was torn. “This isn’t easy for me, you know.”
“What isn’t easy?”
She glanced away, then back. “I’m heading back to Atlanta tomorrow.”
I said nothing as her words sunk in. I’d expected them on some level, but they still stung like hell.
“I need to get back to work,” she continued, her words tripping over themselves as if she needed to get them out quickly. “I’ve been gone a long time. And now that the funeral’s over and your case is settled, I don’t—”
“Don’t what?”
She shook her head as if the words were too painful to say.
“Don’t have anything holding you here anymore?” I nodded, acknowledging the truth for her. “Of course, you don’t. You never did.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to!” I yelled, startling us both.
I took a step back, getting my shit together. This was pointless. She’d shredded my heart and pride once before. I would not allow it again. I wouldn’t survive that annihilation twice.
“You know what?” I said, my voice low and seething. “It’s fine. You’re right. You’ve put your life on hold for a long time and you need to get back to it.”
“Tob—”
I shook my head and took another big step back. “Thank you for all your help with my case. I appreciate it. Send me a bill for anything I owe you and have a safe trip back to Atlanta.”
I spun away and ignored her choked sob. I was done being her white knight.
Fucking done.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Hope
Nothing in Atlanta felt the same. It was lifeless and drab, as if all the color had been drained from my world, leaving only black, white, and shades of gray. Even the things that used to bring sparks of enjoyment to my days—my giant bathtub with multiple jets, old Mrs. Michaelson down the hall with her yappy dog and crazy conspiracy theories, coffee from my favorite little coffee shop with extra cream, even chocolate—nothing was fun anymore. I hadn’t even had an orgasm since Tobias because my BOB held no appeal for me. Now, that was sad.
I existed in a daze of work, home, eat to survive, sleep, shower. Rinse. Repeat.
I clicked away on my computer, mindlessly working on a brief for my latest case as my thoughts wandered. At least going back to work was like hopping back on a bicycle, and in a law office that big, there were no real personal connections, so nobody seemed to notice anything was off, so nobody asked too many personal questions. I got the polite condolences and the ‘we’re so glad you’re back’ stuff, then it was back to the grind as usual.
Literally the only thing that brought any variety to my life was my newfound connection with my sisters and our hunt to find out who C.A. was in Charlotte, North Carolina, and why our father had made regular trips there, as well as such large cash payments. With his shady bookkeeping, the options were vast, from mafia dealings to drugs to gambling. We were stumped. I’d eventually hired a private investigator in North Carolina to help us and he checked in with me daily. So far, not much.
Sadly, more than anything, I missed my sisters.
I missed Tobias.
I hadn’t called him. I couldn’t. Not with the way we’d left things. He didn’t want to hear from me, that much was obvious. I’d hurt him—again. It was unintentional, but unavoidable. We both knew what we were getting into when we started things up again. He knew that as well as I did. Still, God, I think I’d hurt myself just as much as I’d hurt him.
Maybe we were just a bad combination. One of those sad couples who are fated to never be together, no matter how much they wish otherwise.
My fingers paused and I glanced up at a knock on my office door.
Evan smiled at me. It seemed sincere, though I distinctly recall his parting words being none too kind. “Hey there.”
“Hello,” I said coolly.
He stepped inside my office, his gaze raking down my chest, then back up. “It’s nice to have you back.”
I sat back in my chair. “Is it?”
His brows dipped momentarily. “Of course. So, can I buy you a drink after work?”
I knew him. That was a clear invite back to his place for sex. “Last time I saw you, you told me to go to hell.”
“Oh, come on, Hope. I was upset because you were leaving. You know I didn’t mean it.”
I studied the asshole in front of me, disgusted I’d ever slept with him. What the hell was I thinking? He was upset and lashed out. Tobias was hurt, but he’d never hurt me. In fact, he’d done everything in his power to take care of me and protect me. And I’d just walked away from that . . . again.
“Hope?” Evan prompted.
I shook my head, annoyed with him now. “Pass.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but I motioned him out. “Go away, Evan.”
“You’re an uptight bitch, you know that?”
“Maybe. But at least I don’t have to be hateful to people to make myself feel better about the size of my penis. Now get out of my office and go to hell, Evan.”
With a growl, he slammed out the door, making me laugh.
I was still laughing when my phone rang with my PI’s number. After the niceties, he asked me if I had a pen handy.
“Um, sure? What’s up?”
“Well, I think I’ve got a break for you here in Charlotte.”
My smile fell and I sat forward, grabbing a pen. “You do?”
“Yes, ma’am. I finally made it through all the information your sister, Faith, was kind enough to send over. All the bank records, receipts, and such. It all was pretty much the same, until I came across one of those airfare tickets corresponding with a hotel booking, and I dug a bit deeper. I followed a hunch and finally hit gold with some public records.”
“Public records?”
“Are you sitting down, ma’am?”
“Yes.”
“C.A. is a Carol Atkins.”
“Okay,” I said the word slowly, the name meaning nothing to me.
He gave me a moment. “According to the state of North Carolina’s department of vital statistics, Carol Atkins is listed as the mother to a Michael Isaiah McMasters.”
Cold prickles went south from the base of my neck.
“McMasters?”
“Yes.”
My mouth felt like a sandbox. “Is the father listed on that birth certificate?” I asked, though it was pretty pointless.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I nodded. “Noel McMasters.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I kept nodding, although he couldn’t see it, and I pinched the bridge of my nose.
He got his son. He got his fucking son.
“Is he older or younger than us?” I had to know.
“Um . . .” I heard papers flip. “He was born just after Faith. Like a month or so later.”
“Oh my God.”
I dropped my head and squeezed my eyes shut as the realization that my father had been running illegal activity through his church in order to support a whole other family we knew nothing about crashed down upon me.
I wasn’t sure which part of that scenario was the worst. That he had another family—which he clearly favored because he got the son he always wanted. That the sanctimonious bastard had cheated on our mother. That he was doing illegal shit. That he was doing illegal shit through a church. Or that he was doing all of that right under his beloved Faith’s nose, who absolutely adored him and deserved none of this.
God, did this other family know anything about us? Surely, they had to.
But my thoughts kept circling back to my sisters.
Grace would be shocked, but she would be okay. Faith, though. She would be devastated.
“Thank you,” I managed to choke out. “This is . . . I don’t even know what to say.”
“I can only imagine,” he said. “Do you want me to call your sisters?”
“No. I’ll take care of that.”
“Okay then. I’ll put together a report of all the information and get that sent over to you ASAP. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Sure thing. Thanks again for your help on this.”
“My pleasure.”
We hung up and I shot off an email to my boss letting him know I needed to take the rest of the day for personal reasons, then I shut down my computer and headed out. I wouldn’t be any use here at the office until I took care of this.
I went home and let myself into my apartment, glancing around as that same feeling of drabness coated my skin again.
What the hell was wrong with me?
“Get over yourself,” I mumbled, changing into my yoga pants and a t-shirt before pouring some wine and sinking onto the couch with my phone.
I started with Faith. I figured it was best to get it over with.
“Hey, Hope!” She sounded a bit breathless.
“Hey there. Whatcha doing?”
“Just got done at Jiu Jitsu class, actually.”
“Ah, nice.”
I heard a sigh. “It was alright. How about you? Shouldn’t you be working or something?”
“Came home early.” I sipped my wine for a shot of liquid courage. “I, uh, I heard from the PI, actually.”
“Really? Anything new?” I heard her car door slam and it got quiet as she must have flipped to her Bluetooth.
“Actually, a lot new.”
“Like what?”
I took a big breath and just threw it out there. “Like C.A. is a Carol Atkins and apparently the reverend was paying her every month because she had his son. Matthew. He’s just a bit younger than you.” I couldn’t stop with the word vomit. “They’re in Charlotte. That’s apparently where he went to visit every year.” I squinted my eyes and scrunched up my face as if she could see me, waiting for the blowback of her emotional reaction.
Nothing.
“Faith?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you hear me?”
“Matthew,” she said, her voice sounding weirdly hollow.
“Yeah,” I said. “Um . . . Matthew Isaiah—” I swallowed. “McMasters.”
“Isaiah—” she breathed, chuckling lightly in the background like she’d taken the phone away from her face. “For unto us a child is born,” she said softly, her voice present again. “Unto us a son is given.”
I blinked. “Um—”
“Isaiah 9:6.” The sound of a bitter laugh met my ears. “Dad’s favorite scripture. It’s on a plaque on his bookshelf.”
I closed my eyes. That sick fuck.
“So . . .” Faith continued, her voice sounding resigned but clear. “Daddy cheated on Mama.”
“Yes.”
“And had a boy.”
“Yes.”
“So, we have a brother?”
“Looks like it.”
“And that must be whose picture I saw.”
“I have no idea.” Her lack of emotion was scaring me.
“The picture, Hope, of the guy that I saw at the funeral.”
It clicked. “Oh, holy shit.”
“He was there.” Her voice rose an octave. “He was there. Our brother—Oh, shit, that’s weird to say. Have you told Grace?”
“No. I called you first.”
She was silent a minute. “I’m not sure how to feel about this.”
“Me either,” I admitted, swirling my wine. “There’s a lot fucked up about the entire situation, not the least of which are those hidden ledgers.”
“Yes, I know.” She’d been suspiciously quiet about it all since we found them, as if by ignoring the matter it didn’t exist.
“Well, the PI is going to send me a full report soon. Maybe we can talk more about it then. In the meantime, I need to call Grace and break the news to her.”
“Want me to do it in person?”
“Do you want to?”
She laughed. “Not really. But I will.”
“It’s fine. Go enjoy your evening. I’ll take care of it.” I figured I’d left Faith to take care of enough over the years as it was.
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
We hung up and I took another big chug of my wine before dialing Grace.
Little Olivia answered and I got a rundown of who smelled at school and what was for lunch before Grace finally came on the line, a smile in her voice. “That make you hungry for Goldfish crackers?”
“Yes, actually.”
She laughed. “So, what’s up?”
I sat back and gave her the same rundown from the PI that I’d given to Faith, getting pretty much the same reaction.
“Faith took it alright?” she asked.
“Better than I expected.”
“I’m glad. I’ll go by and check on her tomorrow just to be sure. She’s had a rough couple of days.”
“Because of all this?”
“Well, yeah, and she had another run-in with Adam.”
“What happened?”
“Well, I wasn’t there, but to hear her tell it, she went out with her friends and had a few drinks. They ended up going out for a pizza and ran into Adam and Tobias at the pizza place. She was a ‘little bit drunk’ to quote our sister, and she poked the proverbial bear.”
“Faith doesn’t do ‘a little bit drunk.’”
“True, but you can’t tell her that.”
“So, what did she do?”
“She says she sat at their table and just tried to talk to him, but he ignored her. It pissed her off, so she threw his drink all over him. Apparently, Tobias had to intervene and get Adam out of there before he took our baby sister over his knee, he was so mad.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I have a feeling she might have liked that.”
Grace laughed too. “Right? Poor, love-drunk girl. She’s got it so bad for him.”
“She does.” My smile fell as my words felt like a condemnation of myself.
“So . . . speaking of love-drunk . . .”
“Yes, you and Mateo are sickening.” I sipped my wine.
“We are, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“No? Enlighten me.”
“Come on, Hope. We both know Tobias makes you happy and there’s nothing standing in your way anymore—at least nothing except your own stupid pride.”
“Hey!”
