Page 130 of Chasing Hope

you and I both know you’ve created something life-changing. let yourself feel the pride in that because I sure as shit do

Ibarely slept a wink, broken bursts here and there and then I’m jerked awake, panicked that Evie left, only to find her nestled in my side, her mass of blonde waves cascading downmy arm and her head lying on my chest. I suppose bawling your eyes out for hours will knock you out like that.

My mind, however, couldn’t shut off. I’ve combed through the past months—hell, even years—trying to pinpoint the exact moment something changed and I nailed it.

At least, I think I did.

Thanksgiving, last year. It was the last time anyone saw her.

After that, Evie withdrew. Excuses texted in group chats, Christmas missed only for her shitty ex to ditch her and go off on his own trip, phone calls dodged.

I didn’t see her again until I pulled into the garage and saw her taking a bat to Carter’s car.

I was there; my parents and I haven’t spent a holiday together since I was fourteen. The Ellingtons never voiced it but it was just expected of me to be with them. In every way that counts for a family, they are mine.

My biological parents didn’t even realize I had decided to cut off contact with them until seven months later, when they had called asking me to stand beside them as they accepted an award for their dedication and hard work in the medical field. If only they had put a fraction of that dedication toward the child they so obviously never wanted, perhaps I would have accepted the invitation.

But looking back at that Thanksgiving weekend, nothing was out of the norm. Marcus and Serena were singing in the kitchen cooking, Evie, Caleb, and I set the table talking smack as usual—especially as the liquor started flowing.

Carter was meant to come that weekend and meet Serena and Marcus, but surprise, surprise, the man of the hour—that was sarcasm in case you missed the obvious—his flight was canceled.

Yet when I searched his flight later, low and behold, it wasn’t canceled; he just didn’t get on it. I never told Evie that tidbit. Why would I go out of my way to hurt her further?

She had been so disappointed. She tried to hide it, but it was obvious, to me at least. I had spent my entire life memorizing her micro-expressions that I knew when she cleared her throat andmade her smile as wide as she could, it meant she was dying on the inside.

It took an immense amount of teasing and probing from Caleb and I to bring her out of her shell after that. Despite that hiccup, though, nothing happened.

There were no arguments, no lingering tension, no shady jabs or cold shoulders. It was a standard Thanksgiving at the Ellingtons filled with laughter, warmth, joy, and smiles.

So that begs the question, what happened after that Thanksgiving that changed the dynamic of a family that has been the strongest one standing for well over twenty years?

My thoughts float away temporarily as Evie sits up in my arms, tilting her head back and fluttering those thick black lashes up at me.

“Morning, Dove,” I whisper, my voice thick from lack of sleep.

The remnants of her crying are visible with her red and puffy eyes, but she’s still the most beautiful woman. A connection clicks into place as our gazes lock, a tunnel forging between our souls.

“Do I look like a raccoon?”

My lip twitches with the threat of a smile.

Taking in the smudge of black beneath her eyes, I murmur, “An adorable raccoon.”

Groaning, she drops her forehead to the crook of my neck, her words muffled. “Liar.”

“I mean it. Hand on heart, Evie, you’re the cutest raccoon to ever exist.”

Lifting her head, she narrows her eyes at me. “I’m afraid to look in the mirror now.”

“Why don’t you go brave your reflection and see that I’m right while I make us coffee?” I suggest.

She lights up at the mention of coffee. “With artwork?”

“Have I ever missed a day?”

Ever since that dark week where she didn’t get out of bed and the only thing that pulled even a hint of life from her was the coffee I made with the small heart on top, I’ve made coffee for herevery morning.

“Not one,” she breathes, pushing herself up before making her way to the door. Evie pauses, looking at me questionably over her shoulder. “How do you know so many latte art designs, anyway?”