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Hope

Three years earlier

Song: Ironic by Alanis Morissette

In a competition between pussy and beaver, it appeared the less hairy of the two would be triumphant

“Can I pat your beaver?”

I lumbered to turn around, mindful of the fact the tail of my costume could take out half the bar if I spun too quickly. 

How did Faye talk me into this?

“Um,” I mumbled, glancing around for my fellow beaver. “I don’t think so.”

I spotted Faye by the bar, stuck in the three-deep line waiting to order. Her back was to me, and I could see her gesticulating wildly to another customer, her black curls bouncing this way and that as she moved. 

Faye! If we have a psychic connection, look at me! Now!

Alas, my best friend, also dressed as a beaver, continued to chat with the customer, who happened to be dressed as a squirrel.  

“Come on,” the drunk guy badgered. “It’s Halloween. Let me pat your fur.”

I ducked my head and turned away, hoping that if I ignored him, he’d leave me alone. Sweat poured down my back, a combination of the dancing, the costume and the man making me nervous. 

“Come on. Just one little stroke.” He laughed in a way that set the hairs on the back of my neck on edge. An ick feeling slithered down my spine to curl in my gut. My pulse pounded in my ears as I tried to shift away only for him to match me step for step. 

“Could you please back away?” I asked, frustrated that I sounded nervous and breathy. “You’re making me uncomfortable.”

“Me?” The drunk seemed to be offended by my assertion. “I’m harmless.”

And I’m sure that’s what Hannibal Lecter said to all his victims too. 

Why did men have to ruin everything? 

The drunk crowded in, making a lunge for the front of my costume. 

I dodged back, nearly falling over the giant claw feet shoes Faye had insisted we wear. 

It’ll be funny, she said. A real laugh, she said. 

Why did men have to ruin everything? 

“Let me pat you!” The drunk lunged again, and I fell over, tumbling onto my butt in my rush to avoid him. 

He reached for me, his expression triumphant, but a stern voice snapped through the crowd, halting his movement. 

“Oi!” the far too familiar voice shouted. “Get your hands off her.”

I wanted the earth to swallow me up as the lead singer from the band that had just finished pushed through the crowd toward me. 

Like some kind of movie hero, he slipped between me and the drunk, crossing his arms over his chest and planting his feet. 

“Back up.”

“But I—”

“I said,” he growled. “Back the fuck up.”

The drunk glanced around, wavering as he eyed my rescuer—no doubt wondering if he could take him. 

“Fuck it.” The aggressor tossed his hands up, flicking me a furious look. “You can have her.” He shoved through the crowd, disappearing into the crush. 

My hero huffed. “Alright, folks. Nothing to see here.”

The people with their phones turned away, returning to their conversations. 

Mortified, I tried to push up from the floor only to find myself stuck. The tail made the costume butt-heavy, dragging me off-center as I tried and failed to stand. 

“Here.” Hands slipped under my arms, hauling me up. 

And just like that I found myself in the arms of the very last person I ever thought I’d see. Faye, her brother, Trent—who was our designated driver for the evening—and I, had arrived late to the bar, and had spent most of the evening dancing at the back of the crowded room to avoid hitting people with our tails. I’d thought the singer had sounded familiar, but without hearing his name or seeing his face, I’d been left with an impression of familiarity rather than this slap in the face.  

What were the chances that Justice Wild, my high school crush and main character in all of my hottest fantasies, would be performing tonight, a half a world away from Peach Springs, the small town where we’d both grown up? 

My gaze traveled hungrily over him, absorbing all the changes that the last ten years had imprinted on him. 

Justice had always been a good-looking kid, and unsurprisingly he’d matured into a gorgeous man. His dark brown, nearly black, hair complemented his tanned skin and green eyes. He’d grown taller since I last saw him, and based on my own short stature, I’d have pegged him as standing at an inch or so under six feet. 

While his height might have changed, his enigmatic presence hadn’t. His bright green eyes and his muscular body practically vibrated with barely leashed energy. Tattoos ran up and down his arms, images that had been crafted in the years since we’d last met and which meant something to him but would remain a mystery to me. 

He still looked good enough to lick. 

Double damn. 

One would have assumed my brothers, who were still friends with him, would have mentioned it. But then no one knew about my silent obsession—and I planned to keep it that way.  

“Hope?” Justice blinked, a slow smile curving his lips. “Shit. I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

My mouth opened and closed but words failed to appear. He glanced over my shoulder.

“Are your brothers here? I sent them a text but didn’t hear anything back.”

I shook my head. “It’s picking season. They’re trying to get the last fruit in before it gets too cold.” 

His lips twisted into a wry smile. “I should have known. What are they growing these days?”

My own curved into an answering smile. “Apples, of course. But they do have a peach orchard—just a small one.”

Peach Springs, the small town where we’d both grown up, was world renowned for its peaches…. And yet my family had decided to grow apples. 

These days my siblings and I lived in Capricorn Cove, a small town in the Isle of Astipia, known for its beautiful coastline and delicious fresh produce. My mother’s family lived here, and she’d returned towing us kids with her after… after…

I pushed away the thought, focusing on Justice. “It’s good to see you.”

He grinned. “And you. Come backstage, we can catch up. You can fill me in on what’s happening in your world.”

I hesitated. “My friend Faye is getting us drinks. I wouldn’t want her to worry.”

“Which one is she?”

I pointed at my fellow beaver and Justice barked out a laugh. “I should have known. Hey, Sam!”

Sam, the lead guitarist, glanced up from where he stood on the stage, packing up their cords and instruments. 

“Can you keep an eye on Faye? Did I get her name right?”

I nodded. 

“Can you let Faye—the other beaver—know I’m taking Hope backstage? We’re both from Peach Springs.”

Sam glanced my way, one eyebrow cocking. “You’re Faye’s housemate, right?”

I nodded. “And you’re Sam Dogg. You live down the road.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. Sorry about the noise. We try to keep it to a dull roar.”

I shrugged then realized he’d never be able to see it under the heavy beaver suit. “It’s not a problem. I like your stuff.”

He glanced over my head at Faye, narrowing his gaze. “That’s her brother, right?”

I glanced back to see she’d made it back to the table that Trent had secured and was currently gesturing wildly at him. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“Cool. I’ll let her know where you’ve gone. No problem.”

“Appreciate it,” Justice said, catching my hand and giving me a small tug. I followed, stumbling behind him in my oversized shoes. 

Seriously, why couldn’t he have seen me last year? Last Halloween I dressed as Marilyn Monroe and three guys gave me their numbers. 

He led me down a dark corridor behind the stage and into a small room crowded with people—all of whom stopped talking when their sexy lead singer walked in with a beaver. 

God, kill me now. Please. 

Justice handed me a beer and introduced me to his band and crew, whose names I promptly forgot. 

“Shots?” one of the roadies asked, holding up a bottle of some clear liquid. 

Justice shook his head but nodded at me. “Hope might.”

I took the offered glass and downed it quickly, praying it would offer some courage—or at least dull my embarrassment. 

A second shot glass replaced the first, and then a third appeared. When a fourth slipped into my hand, Justice intervened. 

“How about we sit and chat for a while first?” he asked gently. 

I nodded, allowing him to place a hand on my back and guide me toward a padded stool that accommodated my costume.

He took the seat next to mine, a faded armchair. 

“Tell me how your family is,” he encouraged. 

I flapped my beaver paw, feeling a little off-center as the alcohol hit my system. “They’re surviving. Capricorn Cove has been good to us. Harley, Holden and Hudson are busy with the farm.”

“And Lace?” he asked, referring to my sister-in-law.

“She and Boone are great.” I chuckled just thinking about my nephew. “He’s growing into a temperamental teenager.” My smile dipped. “But I don’t know if Lace and Harley are going to last. They’ve had issues for a while.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

I shook my head, forcing a smile. “How about you? Tell me all about your family.”

Justice blew out a breath. “I… I text them occasionally. Fletch, Beau and Asher are all still in Peach Springs. Colt got out and became a stuntman like he wanted. I see him occasionally. As for Owen….” He trailed off. “Let’s just say that overall, I’m not exactly close to them anymore.”  

“You’re estranged?”

He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “I don’t know what we are.”

I placed a furry hand on his knee. “You should fix that. Family is important—and while I’m supportive of separating from family if they’re not the right people for you, I have a feeling that’s not what’s happening here.”

He chuckled dryly. “You always know how to get to the heart of an issue.”

I removed my hand reluctantly. “You should try to repair what’s there. Life is too short to let wounds fester.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“A text to check in might be good.” 

He nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll think on it.” He shifted, changing the subject. “Alright, on to more important things. Tell me about you. What are you up to these days?”

“Study and work, that’s my whole life.”

He chuckled. “What? No boyfriend?”

I snorted. “No. The dating pool in this town is abysmally small. And any of the guys who might be a good match from college are either wanting to move back to the cities or run in the other direction when commitment is on the table.”

I was vaguely aware that the alcohol had begun to hit me, that my hand gestures were becoming larger, and my words a little slurred. 

But then, maybe it wasn’t the alcohol so much as being in Justice’s presence—he had such an enigmatic personality, that when he turned his full attention on you, it felt a little like floating. 

A woman tripped and fell against the arm of his chair, laughing as she slid down it to land in his lap. 

“Sorry!” she chuckled, her voice low and sexy. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Justice’s arms automatically wrapped around her to steady her, keeping the woman from falling. 

“Not a problem. Jacie, meet Hope.” 

“Hey,” she said brightly. “Nice to meet you.” 

I wasn’t exactly sure which animal she was meant to be dressed as, but I made an educated guess based on the ears and whiskers that it was a cat. 

A pussy cat, if you will.

And in a competition between pussy and beaver, it appeared the less hairy of the two would be triumphant. 

My heart flopped sadly, an ache taking up residence in the middle of my chest as Justice allowed her to settle in his lap, leaning back against him as we chatted. 

Justice wasn’t for me. He never had been, and he never would be. I just needed to reconcile that my childish dreams of marrying the boy next door would never eventuate. 

Thank god he’d never guessed my feelings. And, if I had it my way, he never would. 

The roadie came back around and offered me another shot. I took it before Justice could stop me, needing the hit of fire to sear away the tears burning in my throat. 

“Hope.” 

I glanced toward the door to the room and found Trent and some other guy standing in the doorway. 

“You’re okay,” he said, his relief palatable. 

Not even close. 

I tilted my head to the side, offering him a blank smile. “Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” I lied. 

“Because you’re drunk, honey.” Justice tugged gently on one of my pigtails “Sounds like these nice guys are your ride home.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. 

I wanted to show him I could party with his crew. That I was better than the beaver costume and pigtails. 

But you’re not, are you? You’re a small-town girl and he’s destined for stardom. The two aren’t compatible. 

“But I want to—” I began. 

“Time to go,” Justice ordered, not brooking any protests. He shifted Jacie off his lap and stood, hauling me up once again. 

“It was great seeing you, Hope,” he murmured, pressing a small kiss to my forehead. “And I’ll think on what you said.” 

An embarrassed flush crept up my neck. Once again, I wasn’t anything to him. 

“Off you go,” Justice gave me a little shove in Trent’s direction. “We’ll catch up another time.”

Dismissed, I ducked my head and waddled out of the room, biting the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood, but goddamn it, I refused to cry in front of anyone. 

It was only later, in the silence of my bedroom, that I allowed the tears to come. 

Next time, I promised myself. Next time he’ll see me as a woman.