Page 92 of Holding Hope

“Could you give us a minute with the doctor?” he asked—not unkindly, but firmly.

I squeezed Melody’s hand once more, then backed out of the room, ears buzzing.

The door had barely clicked shut when someone grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the stairs.

“What the⁠—”

“Why did you do that?” Clarke hissed, pinning me to the wall. Her blue eyes were blazing. “You have this habit of stepping out of your place and involving yourself in things that aren’t your concern.”

Tears stung my eyes. I hadn’t wanted this—hadn’t wanted her to be angry with me.

“I just wanted to help,” I whispered, turning my face away. But she caught my chin between her fingers and forced me to meet her gaze.

“That’s a nasty habit, Avalon.” Her tone was sharp, cutting—but beneath it was something raw, something trembling.

“If you really wanted to help,” she continued, “you’d spend time with her. Make her laugh. Enjoy her final days.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” I shot back before I could stop myself. Her fingers were still on my face, her eyes still burning into mine. “Spending time with her? Doing her favorite things? Is winning this barrel race more important than enjoying her final days?” My voice dropped to a whisper. “She could go any moment⁠—”

“You don’t think I know that?” Clarke’s voice cracked with fury and grief. “You don’t think I’ve spent the past year feeling helpless?”

She released my face. I gasped, leaning back against the cool wall.

“I can’t be here all the time,” she said, running her hands through her hair. Her curls fell loose around her shoulders, wild and exhausted. “I can’t see her like that, knowing I can’t fix it. Fix her. Sometimes I just need a distraction from feeling like another weight on everyone. I can’t ease her pain or my mother’s, but sometimes, for a moment, I can distract myself from mine.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. The tension in her body was almost vibrating — grief, rage, fear, all tangled together with nowhere to go.

“Use me,” I breathed out from my place on the wall. Reaching for her arm, I took her hand and placed it over my chest. “I know what you need, Clarke.” My voice was just above a whisper, sacred within the small space between us. “Let me quiet the pain in your chest for just a little while.”

Avalon trailed my fingers over the loose fabric of my old t-shirt, her nipples pressing against my palms. With a groan, I folded myself into her, lowering my head into the crook of her neck and my hands on the curves of her body.

“I can take some of the pain away, even if it’s just for a moment,” she cooed, her hands wandering through my curls. Her skin was warm to the touch, soft and supple; temptation etched into every line and crevice.

Hungrily, my hands pulled and tugged at her. She moaned in response, craning her neck so my lips would have better access to the lush skin.

“Avalon, stop.”

The words scraped out of me, rougher than I intended, but necessary. I forced myself to pull back, dragging in a deep breath as I stepped away from her warmth. My thumb brushed across my bottom lip, still tingling from where she’d kissed me.

“God only knows how badly I want to do this—fuck, I want this,” I admitted, my voice low, trembling as I tried to steady myself. “Lose myself in you. But now isn’t the time.”

Avalon pouted—actually pouted—crossing her arms as she leaned back against the wall. Her lower lip jutted out in a way that made my resolve wobble for a split second. I laughed despite myself and reached out, catching her chin between my fingers and tilting her face up toward mine.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t want to later,” I murmured. I pressed a soft kiss to her temple, smiling when she let out a quiet, satisfied sound. “When it’s just the two of us.”

Another kiss—her cheek this time—and I felt her skin warm beneath my lips. “We can go back to the Big Barn and won’t have to worry abou⁠—”

A loud commotion at the front door cut me off. Avalon and I both snapped our heads toward the noise just as Aubrielle Kennedy, Ethan, and my brother barreled into the house like a stampede.

“That,” I sighed, stepping fully away from Avalon. Privacy was a luxury in this house—one I’d rarely had growing up, and one I’d learned to crave enough to move out to the barn.

Avalon snorted, peeling herself off the wall. We’d only been close for a moment, but her face was already flushed a bright, beautiful pink. “Brie, I thought I told you to wait for me outside?”

Her aunt laughed, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. “Yeah, but then I ran into these delicious cowboys.” She licked her lips dramatically as Colton and Ethan ducked into the dining room, both tall enough to nearly brush the doorframe. “Why didn’t you tell me Texans were so damn tall?” She turned to Avalon. “You don’t have dibs on one of them, do you?”

Avalon’s face twisted into pure horror. I couldn’t help laughing. Obviously not. “Ew, God, no,” she said quickly. “Colton is practically engaged, and Ethan is…not my type.”

Brie wiggled her brows. “But he is mine.”