Chapter 94: Hope

[Erica’s POV]

The familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries envelops me as I push open the heavy glass door of Starbucks.

I spot Justine immediately, her fiery red hair a beacon amidst the sea of muted browns and blacks. She’s seated at a small table near the back, two steaming cups already placed before her. As I approach, I notice the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her emerald eyes dart around the room, never quite settling on one spot for too long.

“Hey,” I greet her, sliding into the seat across from her.

Justine’s lips curl into a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hey, Erica,” she replies, pushing one of the cups towards me. “I got you a coffee.”

I nod, wrapping my hands around the warm cup. The heat seeps into my palms. “Thanks,” I say, taking a small sip. The bitter liquid burns slightly as it slides down my throat.

For a moment, we sit in silence, the bustling atmosphere of the coffee shop filling the space between us. I watch as Justine fidgets with the cardboard sleeve on her cup, her long fingers tracing the ridges and creases.

Finally, I break the silence. “I know it was my idea to meet up, but why here of all places?” I ask, keeping my voice low and casual.

‘I would have much rather had her come to my house.’

Justine looks up, meeting my gaze for the first time since I sat down. A small, almost sheepish smile plays at the corners of her lips. “Somewhere public seemed like a good idea,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

I feel a jolt of surprise at her words, but I manage to keep my expression neutral. I nod slowly, processing her statement. “That’s smart,” I concede, “but I didn’t reach out to hurt you, Justine.”

She leans back in her chair, her posture relaxing slightly. “I didn’t think you did,” she assures me, her tone softening. “But you can never be too safe, you know?”

I nod again, a mixture of understanding and something akin to respect washing over me. “I guess you’re right,” I say, taking another sip of my coffee.

I cut to the chase. “I wanted to go over what you’re planning for Jason’s bachelor party,” I say, my voice low and measured.

Justine’s eyes widen, her emerald gaze sparkling with sudden excitement. The tension that had been evident in her shoulders just moments ago seemed to melt away, replaced by an almost childlike enthusiasm. “You’re gonna let us have a bachelor party?” she asks, her voice rising slightly in pitch.

I nod. “Yes,” I confirm, “just the two of you, no one else. And it will be at the Knight mansion.” I pause, taking another sip of my coffee before adding, “I’ll do my best not to bother you two.”

Justine’s face lights up, her freckled cheeks flushing with excitement. She leans back in her chair, her eyes unfocusing slightly as she begins to rack her brain for ideas.

After a moment, her gaze snaps back to me, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Can we set up a tent in the backyard?” she asks, her voice brimming with enthusiasm.

I can’t help but sigh, feeling that the idea is a bit childish and unnecessary given the size and luxury of the mansion. The image of a small tent dwarfed by the expansive, manicured lawn of the Knight estate flashes through my mind, and I have to suppress telling her it’s stupid.

Despite my reservations, I find myself nodding. “That’s fine,” I concede, my voice tinged with resignation.

Justine’s eyes light up with childlike excitement, her freckled face beaming. “Oh, it’ll be just like when we were kids!” she exclaims, her voice filled with nostalgia.

She laughs, the sound bright and infectious. Her hands move animatedly as she speaks, painting vivid pictures of childhood memories. “Maybe set up a little campfire, bring some board games. And we absolutely must have s’mores. It wouldn’t be a proper backyard camping experience without s’mores!”

I nod absently, my mind already drifting to other concerns. “Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, not really paying attention to Justine’s enthusiastic planning. “Amelia will be at your beck and call, getting you two whatever you want.” I pause, meeting Justine’s gaze with a pointed look. “But she’ll also be keeping an eye on you two for me.”

Justine’s smile falters slightly at my words, but she quickly recovers. “That’s fine,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “We won’t be doing anything crazy anyway.”

She leans forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, Jason would probably love it if you were there too.”

I sigh heavily, running a hand through my hair. “No,” I say firmly, shaking my head. “I can’t be there, Justine.”

Justine’s brow furrows in confusion. “But why not?” she asks, her voice tinged with disappointment. “You know Jason would be thrilled to have you join us.”

“No,” I say, my voice soft but firm. “I can’t be there, Justine. I’m... I’m trying to change, to learn how to rely on and trust other people.”

I pause, taking a deep breath. The admission feels strange on my tongue, like a foreign language I’m not quite fluent in yet. But I press on, knowing the importance of what I’m trying to convey.

“I can’t protect Jason on my own,” I continue, my gaze fixed on the swirling patterns in my coffee. “I need to learn how to set up a support system for him and how to rely on that. It’s not easy for me, but I know it’s necessary.”

“I’ve always been the one to watch over him, to keep him safe. But after everything that’s happened... I’ve realized that I can’t do it all alone. And more importantly, I shouldn’t try to. Jason needs more than just me. He needs friends, family, a whole network of people who care about him and can support him in ways I might not be able to.”

I look up at Justine, meeting her emerald gaze. Her eyes are wide with surprise, her lips parted slightly as she takes in my words.

“That’s... that’s really mature, Erica,” Justine says slowly, her voice filled with a mixture of admiration and disbelief. “That’s a lot of growth. I’m impressed.”

I nod, acknowledging her words with a small smile. But Justine’s not done. She leans forward, her red hair falling over her shoulder as she fixes me with an intense look.

“But,” she says, her voice gentle but insistent, “I don’t think that’s what Jason would want from you. He loves you, Erica. He loves your protectiveness, your fierce devotion. It’s part of who you are, part of what he fell in love with.”

I nod again, feeling a familiar ache in my chest at her words. “I know,” I say softly. “But it might be what he needs.”

Justine’s words hang in the air between us, heavy with implication. I find my gaze drawn to the bustling coffee shop around us, taking in the myriad details I’d overlooked in my focus on our conversation.

My eyes are drawn to the large clock mounted on the wall behind the counter. The ornate hands tick steadily, marking the passage of time with silent precision.

“Shit,” I mutter, glancing down at my watch to confirm. “It’s 11:30. I gotta run.”

Justine looks up, surprise etched across her freckled features. “What? But we’ve only been here for like five minutes,” she protests, her brow furrowing in confusion.

I shake my head, already gathering my things. “I know, I know. But I gotta meet Brooke at Princess Pizza,” I explain hurriedly.

“Oh,” Justine says, understanding dawning in her emerald eyes. “Oh, that’s right. Well, alright then. See you later, I guess.”

I nod, offering her a quick smile before turning to weave my way through the crowded coffee shop.

*****

The familiar aroma of garlic and melted cheese envelops me as I slide into the worn vinyl booth across from Brooke at Princess Pizza. The lunch rush is in full swing, the small restaurant buzzing with the chatter of patrons and the sizzle of pizzas in the stone oven.

Brooke hardly seems to notice my arrival. Her eyes are glued to her phone, which she clutches tightly in both hands. Her leg bounces rhythmically under the table, causing the salt and pepper shakers to rattle slightly. There’s an air of barely contained excitement about her, like a child on Christmas morning waiting to open presents.

“Whats up?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at her unusual behavior.

Brooke looks up, startled, as if just realizing I’m there. A wide grin spreads across her face, her hazel eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “Oh! Erica! I’m waiting for a call.” She explains, her words tumbling out in a rush. She sets her phone down on the table with exaggerated care, as if afraid it might disappear if she lets it out of her sight.

Intrigued despite myself, I lean forward slightly. “What’s going on, Brooke? You’re acting weirder than usual.”

Brooke’s eyes light up again, that barely contained excitement bubbling back to the surface. “I tracked down the best wedding gift for you and Jason,” she says, her voice filled with pride and a hint of mischief.

I can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. It’s a far cry from the tense, often antagonistic relationship we used to have. “Oh? And what might that be?” I ask, genuinely curious.

Brooke’s face lights up, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She leans in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Oh, it’s amazing, Erica. I’ve been working on this for weeks, making calls, negotiating...” She trails off, her gaze drifting back to her phone as if willing it to ring.

“But,” she continues, her tone suddenly cautious, “it’s not a done deal yet. I’m waiting for a phone call to finalize the details.” Brooke’s fingers drum nervously on the table, her leg still bouncing with pent-up energy. “There’s another bidder, but I think I’ll win it. I have to win it. It’s perfect for you and Jason.”

I furrow my brow, intrigued by her cryptic words. “What even is it, Brooke?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

Brooke glances left and right as if checking for eavesdroppers in the bustling pizzeria. She leans in even closer, her voice barely audible over the lunchtime crowd. “It’s a DeLorean,” she whispers, her eyes wide with excitement.

I can’t help but smile, a mixture of surprise and delight washing over me. “Oh my god,” I breathe, shaking my head in disbelief.

“I know, right?” Brooke grins, clearly pleased by my reaction. “I remember how much Jason loves Back to the Future. It’s his favorite movie.”

“I looked for one a few months ago,” I admit, my mind drifting back to countless hours spent scouring online listings and making phone calls. “Jason mentioned once how cool it would be to own one, but I couldn’t find a single one for sale from a dealer my family trusted.”

Brooke nods, taking a deep breath as she tries to calm herself. Her fingers uncurl from around her phone, and she places her palms flat on the table as if physically grounding herself.

“Anyways,” she says, her voice a touch steadier now, “are you getting excited for your big day?”

I nod, a warm smile spreading across my face. “Of course,” I reply, feeling a flutter of anticipation in my chest. The thought of finally marrying Jason, of making our bond official in the eyes of the world, fills me with a joy so intense it’s almost overwhelming.

Brooke’s eyes soften, a gentle smile playing at her lips. “I can’t believe August 30th is creeping up on us so fast,” she muses, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I know,” I say, leaning back in the booth. The vinyl seat creaks softly beneath me. “And with Jason’s birthday on the 23rd and his bachelor party the next Saturday on the 9th, he’s gonna be a busy boy.”

Brooke smiles, a hint of mischief glinting in her hazel eyes. “He certainly is,” she agrees. “It’s going to be a whirlwind few weeks for him.”

Brooke’s expression softens, a gentle smile playing on her lips. “You know, Erica,” she begins, her voice warm and sincere, “I’m really happy we became friends. After everything that’s happened, all the ups and downs, I never thought we’d end up here. But I’m so glad…...”

Before Brooke can finish, her face suddenly contorts, her eyes widening in what can only be described as panic. Her stomach emits a loud, gurgling noise that’s audible even over the bustling chatter of the pizzeria.

Then, to my utter shock, a loud, unmistakable fart rips through the air. The sound seems to echo in our little booth, drowning out everything else for a moment.

Brooke’s face flushes a deep crimson, her eyes wide with mortification. “Oh my god,” she gasps. “I think I might have just...”

She doesn’t finish her sentence. In a flurry of movement, Brooke leaps from the booth, nearly knocking over the table in her haste. She clutches her stomach as she makes a beeline for the bathroom, weaving through the crowded restaurant with impressive speed.

I sit there, stunned by what just happened. The scent of pepperoni and melted cheese is now tinged with something... less appetizing. I blink a few times, trying to process the sudden turn of events.

Part of me wants to laugh at her. Here we were, having a heartfelt moment, and then... that. But I can’t, I did the same thing in front of Jason except mine was even worse because i forced it out myself.

‘I get it.’

With nothing better to do, I find myself idly tracing patterns in the condensation on my water glass, my mind drifting as I wait for Brooke to return.

Suddenly, a shrill ring cuts through the ambient noise of the restaurant. My eyes snap to Brooke’s phone, vibrating insistently on the worn formica tabletop. The screen lights up, displaying an unknown number.

I hesitate for a moment, my hand hovering over the device. Brooke’s excitement about the DeLorean flashed through my mind, her eyes sparkling with childlike enthusiasm as she spoke of the perfect gift for Jason. The thought of her missing out on this opportunity because of an untimely bathroom emergency tugs at something in my chest.

With a resigned sigh, I snatch up the phone and swipe to answer. Clearing my throat, I adopt Brooke’s slightly higher pitch and casual cadence, which I have been doing a lot lately to make Jason laugh.

“Hello?” I pick up the phone.

“Brookie! It’s Lyra.”

The world seems to tilt on its axis, the bustling restaurant fading into a distant buzz as my blood runs cold. My heart thunders in my chest, each beat a deafening roar in my ears. The name echoes in my mind, dragging with it a flood of memories, Jason’s tear-stained face, the haunted look in his eyes, the way he flinched at sudden movements for weeks after the assault.

My grip on the phone tightens, my knuckles turning white with the force of my barely contained rage. A thousand questions race through my mind. How did Lyra get this number? Why is she calling Brooke? What new threat does she pose to Jason’s safety and happiness?

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry as sandpaper. The rage coursing through my veins threatens to overwhelm me, but I force it down, channeling every ounce of self-control to maintain the charade and understand why she sounds so friendly with Brooke.

“Hey, Lyra,” I manage to croak out, hoping the tremor in my voice passes for excitement rather than barely contained fury.

“I’m just calling to confirm the house I’m staying at,” Lyra continues, oblivious to the turmoil her words are causing. “It’s 45 Essex Street in Lynnfield, right?”

‘What the fuck?’

My mind races, cataloging this information even as I struggle to maintain my composure. “That’s right,” I force myself to say, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.

Lyra lets out a small sigh of relief. “Oh, good. After booking the flights, I realized I have to connect like six times, but I’ll still manage to show up on the 7th like we discussed yesterday.”

The casual way she speaks of her travel plans as if she has any right to be anywhere near Jason, makes my blood boil. But I bite my tongue, knowing I need to keep her talking to gather as much information as possible.

Suddenly, Lyra’s voice drops, taking on a nervous edge that catches me off guard. “Brookie,” she says, the nickname sounding perverse coming from her lips, “you really are going to give me your brother for little baby Hope, right? Just like you promised?”

‘Hope? Fucking Christ.’

The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. The implications of what she’s saying are too horrific to contemplate, yet my mind races to connect the dots. Brooke, my newfound ally, the woman I’ve been slowly learning to trust... has she betrayed us in the most unimaginable way?

I realize I’ve been silent for too long, and Lyra’s breathing on the other end of the line has become rapid and anxious. I force myself to speak and play along with this nightmarish scenario until I can understand its full scope.

“Of course,” I say, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. “A promise is a promise, after all.”

Lyra’s relief is palpable, her sigh gusting through the phone. “Thank you, Brookie. You don’t know how much this means to me. I can’t wait to see you both.”

Just as Lyra’s about to hang up, a sudden impulse seizes me. “Wait!” I blurt out, my heart racing. “Hold on a second.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, then Lyra’s hesitant voice. “Yes, Brookie?”

I take a deep breath, my mind whirling as I formulate a plan on the spot. “I have a new number for you,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s better to use this one from now on.”

“Oh?” Lyra sounds intrigued. “Okay, go ahead.”

I recite the number of one of my burner phones, a device I’ve kept hidden away for emergencies just like this. “It’s 617-723-8991,” I say, enunciating each digit clearly. “Don’t call this old number anymore, okay?”

“Alright,” Lyra agrees readily. “But why the change?”

I swallow hard, forcing myself to sound casual. “Well, you know... Erica might see it on my phone. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Lyra’s sharp intake of breath is audible even through the phone. “Oh, that would be awful,” she says, her voice hushed with fear. “Good thinking, Brookie. I’ll use the new number from now on.”

“Great,” I say, my mind already racing ahead to the next step of my hastily formed plan. “Oh, and one more thing, Lyra.”

“Yes?”

“I was wrong about that house in Lynnfield,” I say, injecting a note of apology into my voice. “It’s... well, it’s a bit too dingy for you and Jason. Not at all suitable.”

“Oh,” Lyra sounds disappointed. “But where will we stay then?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll find you a much better place. Something more... appropriate. Let me call you tonight, okay? I’ll have all the details sorted out by then.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Lyra gushes, her voice filled with gratitude. “You’re so good to us, Brookie. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

The irony of her words makes my stomach churn, but I manage to keep my voice steady. “It’s nothing,” I say. “That’s what family is for, right?”

As I sit there, my mind reels from the conversation with Lyra. I stare at Brooke’s phone on the table, its innocuous presence now feeling like a ticking time bomb. The realization of what I’ve just uncovered crashes over me in waves, each one more devastating than the last. Brooke, who I’d begun to trust, who I’d allowed into our lives, has been plotting behind our backs. She’s been in contact with Lyra, of all people, making plans to hand Jason over like he’s some sort of commodity to be traded.

The anger that surges through me is white-hot, threatening to consume everything in its path. My fingers curl into fists, nails digging crescents into my palms as I struggle to contain the rage. How could I have been so blind? So naive?

I think back to my conversation with Justine earlier, about learning to rely on others, about building a support system for Jason. The memory now feels like a mockery, a cruel joke played by the universe. I was wrong. So terribly, dangerously wrong.

Everyone wants to use Jason, to abuse him, to take advantage of his kindness and vulnerability. Lyra, whose very name sends shivers of revulsion down my spine, is planning to take him away. And who knows how many others are out there, waiting for their chance to hurt him?

The realization settles over me like a heavy cloak. I truly am the only one who can keep Jason safe. Everyone else is a potential threat, a wolf in sheep’s clothing waiting to strike. The world is full of predators, and Jason, my sweet, trusting Jason, is their perfect prey.

I feel a newfound resolve hardening within me, like molten steel being forged into an unbreakable shield. The softness I’ve allowed myself to cultivate, the openness I’ve been striving for, it all seems foolish now, a dangerous indulgence that could have cost me everything.

After the wedding, I decide, things will change. No more risks, no more trusting others with Jason’s safety. The basement of the Knight mansion, once a source of dark memories, now seems like the perfect sanctuary. A place where I can keep him safe from the world, where no one can reach him but me.

Justine’s words from earlier echo in my mind. “He loves your protectiveness, your fierce devotion. It’s part of who you are, part of what he fell in love with.” She was right. This is what Jason wants. This is what he needs.

As I delete the evidence of the call from Brooke’s phone, I can’t stop thinking.

‘I am going to kill Lyra. I am going to Kill Brooke. And God forgive me, I am going to kill that fucking baby named Hope.’