underneath mine, but I didn’t pull away.
"If I asked you to kiss me," Jordan whispered, "Would you do it?" Removing his glasses, Jordan shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "What I mean is: would you do it because you wanted to do it, or would you do it just to please me?"
I shook my head in confusion, as my stomach somersaulted around in my body. "What?"
"I need to know you'd say 'no', Hope," Jordan choked out, looking me in the eyes for the first time in what felt like forever. "I need that assurance." He squeezed my hand. "I need to know that you could say 'no'."
"I could never say 'no' to you, Jordy," I replied honestly. "Never."
"Please don’t say that," he begged, dropping his head to stare at our hands. "Please."
"I'm sorry," I told him. Pulling my legs underneath me, I knelt, staring at the side of his face, waiting for him to turn.
He looked so incredibly troubled, and my heart broke to see him like this. He shouldn’t have the worries I sensed he was carrying. He was only sixteen years old.
"Why are you so sad, Jordy?"
"Hope …"
He paused and held his breath for a second, before letting out a sigh and climbing quickly to his feet. "Come on – enough of the sad talk! Let's go for a swim."
He dived into the water before I had a chance to call him out on avoiding my question.
Standing slowly, I placed my hands on my hips and watched as he swam to the surface. His black curls were clipped short and soaking wet.
"You coming, Keychain?" Jordan called out as he bobbed in the water, grinning up at me. He swam closer and splashed me with water.
"You better swim fast," I shouted back through fits of laughter, as I kicked off my ratty old tennis shoes and socks. "I'm gonna catch you, Jordan Porter."
"And I'm going to let you, Hope Carter," he said with a smile.
****
Jordan
Age 16
He hit her again.
I was home three hours and that man had put his hands on my mother.
Hatred like I'd never known existed spewed through my veins, twisting my heart and forever blackening my stance on holy matrimony. But most of all I hated myself.
I hated myself because I was hiding. My mom was inside that house getting beat on, and I was hiding in the barn, crying like a baby and wishing I were back in Thirteenth Street with Hope Carter.
"Get the hell out here, boy."
Clenching my eyes shut, I bit down on my fist and held as still as I could, not daring to move a muscle. I was aching all over. I had tried to defend my mom earlier, but I was too fucking weak. Paul was bigger than any man I'd ever met in my life and my crushed nose was proof of his strength.
"Porter!"
I wondered if I held my breath long enough, remained completely still and didn’t answer Paul when he called my name, would he forget I existed and leave me alone?
But then I thought of my mom and what he would do to her instead, and the fear began to spread like wildfire through my body.
My voice was tight as I crept out from under the bale of hay and said, "I'm here."
****
Hope
Age 15
"That's completely unfair, Dad!"
I glared across the table at my father. Dad met my glare head on, with a look of anger of his own.
He was always my greatest opponent. Mom was soft – she caved easily – and the boys were stupid, but Dad: he was a warrior. This argument could go either way.
I hoped it went my way.
"Best friend's sleep over at each other's houses," I said in a level tone. "Do you want me to be friendless? Is that how you want to treat your only daughter?" I opened my eyes as wide as I could. "Your favorite child?"
"Eighteen-year-old boys don't sleep in fifteen-year-old girl's bedrooms," Dad countered quickly. His blue eyes were narrowed and focused on my face. "It's not happening, Hope. Get it out of your head."
"We're just friends, Dad," I growled, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep my tongue in check. "And think very carefully about this," I added with a
"If I asked you to kiss me," Jordan whispered, "Would you do it?" Removing his glasses, Jordan shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "What I mean is: would you do it because you wanted to do it, or would you do it just to please me?"
I shook my head in confusion, as my stomach somersaulted around in my body. "What?"
"I need to know you'd say 'no', Hope," Jordan choked out, looking me in the eyes for the first time in what felt like forever. "I need that assurance." He squeezed my hand. "I need to know that you could say 'no'."
"I could never say 'no' to you, Jordy," I replied honestly. "Never."
"Please don’t say that," he begged, dropping his head to stare at our hands. "Please."
"I'm sorry," I told him. Pulling my legs underneath me, I knelt, staring at the side of his face, waiting for him to turn.
He looked so incredibly troubled, and my heart broke to see him like this. He shouldn’t have the worries I sensed he was carrying. He was only sixteen years old.
"Why are you so sad, Jordy?"
"Hope …"
He paused and held his breath for a second, before letting out a sigh and climbing quickly to his feet. "Come on – enough of the sad talk! Let's go for a swim."
He dived into the water before I had a chance to call him out on avoiding my question.
Standing slowly, I placed my hands on my hips and watched as he swam to the surface. His black curls were clipped short and soaking wet.
"You coming, Keychain?" Jordan called out as he bobbed in the water, grinning up at me. He swam closer and splashed me with water.
"You better swim fast," I shouted back through fits of laughter, as I kicked off my ratty old tennis shoes and socks. "I'm gonna catch you, Jordan Porter."
"And I'm going to let you, Hope Carter," he said with a smile.
****
Jordan
Age 16
He hit her again.
I was home three hours and that man had put his hands on my mother.
Hatred like I'd never known existed spewed through my veins, twisting my heart and forever blackening my stance on holy matrimony. But most of all I hated myself.
I hated myself because I was hiding. My mom was inside that house getting beat on, and I was hiding in the barn, crying like a baby and wishing I were back in Thirteenth Street with Hope Carter.
"Get the hell out here, boy."
Clenching my eyes shut, I bit down on my fist and held as still as I could, not daring to move a muscle. I was aching all over. I had tried to defend my mom earlier, but I was too fucking weak. Paul was bigger than any man I'd ever met in my life and my crushed nose was proof of his strength.
"Porter!"
I wondered if I held my breath long enough, remained completely still and didn’t answer Paul when he called my name, would he forget I existed and leave me alone?
But then I thought of my mom and what he would do to her instead, and the fear began to spread like wildfire through my body.
My voice was tight as I crept out from under the bale of hay and said, "I'm here."
****
Hope
Age 15
"That's completely unfair, Dad!"
I glared across the table at my father. Dad met my glare head on, with a look of anger of his own.
He was always my greatest opponent. Mom was soft – she caved easily – and the boys were stupid, but Dad: he was a warrior. This argument could go either way.
I hoped it went my way.
"Best friend's sleep over at each other's houses," I said in a level tone. "Do you want me to be friendless? Is that how you want to treat your only daughter?" I opened my eyes as wide as I could. "Your favorite child?"
"Eighteen-year-old boys don't sleep in fifteen-year-old girl's bedrooms," Dad countered quickly. His blue eyes were narrowed and focused on my face. "It's not happening, Hope. Get it out of your head."
"We're just friends, Dad," I growled, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep my tongue in check. "And think very carefully about this," I added with a
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