"Where are you going?" Annabelle asked as she stood on the porch, looking like a polished beauty queen, staring down at me.

"Where does it look like I'm going?" I snapped, pausing mid-stretch to turn and glare at her. "I'm going for a run." I thought it was pretty fucking obvious considering my attire and the fact that I was outside warming up.

"A run?" She threw her head back and laughed. "Should I get the camera?" she teased, eyes alight with mischief. "This has to be a monumental moment in your life, right? Jordan told me you hate exercising."

"Jordan has a big mouth," I muttered under my breath. "Skinny bitch."

Annabelle frowned. "What?"

I shrugged innocently. "What?"

"Well, have fun," she called out after a pause. "Call me if you get into trouble. I'll come pick you up."

"Will do," I shot back sweetly before turning my back on her and shoving my ear pods in my ears. I would rather die from sweat and dehydration than call that woman to come get me.

With the soundtrack from the movie Suicide Squad blasting through my earplugs, I embarked on my first ever agreed-to run.

However, the moment I was out of the driveway and halfway down the street, I realized this was a horrible idea. I was unfit and already out of breath, but I needed to move.

I couldn’t stay in that house another second watching Annabelle and Jordan play house with Ryder. Best friends or not, it was fucking torture to watch and I needed a temporary escape.

"Call me if you get into trouble. I'll come pick you up."

Over my dead fucking body!

Shaking my wrists out, I ran as fast as my legs could carry me.

When the hell did my life become so complicated?

My cheeks burned, my lungs protested as the fire in my body heightened to unmeasurable levels. Gasping for air, I drained the contents of my water bottle only to whimper in dismay when it was gone and my throat still felt drier than the Sahara Desert.

Breathe, Hope, just breathe.

Concentrate on the road ahead of you.

No, fuck that, just concentrate on not face planting on the road and dying!

I continued to run until I was sure the house was out of sight, and then I made a beeline for dumpster in a side alleyway. Collapsing against it, I closed my eyes and tried to drag precious, valuable air into my poor, tortured lungs.

Yeah, I was so never doing that again.

Why did people do this to themselves?

And for fun?

I could think of a million different hobbies and activities that felt better than the run of death!

Giving up on the idea of getting fit, I caught my breath and composed myself before heading back down the street in search of the nearest fast food restaurant.

* * *

I was sitting in the corner of my favorite fast food joint, digging into the best damn Big Mac meal I'd ever tasted, when a familiar voice asked from behind me, “Hungry?”, causing my heart to stop dead in my chest.

Momentarily stunned, and with half a dozen fries stuffed in my mouth, I debated my options. Stay and face him like a grownup or run like hell.

Knowing I would never run again for the rest of my days on earth, I swallowed down the huge hunk of fries in my mouth and turned in my seat to face him.

The moment my eyes landed on his face, a tsunami of butterflies attacked my insides. His blond hair was slicked back off his face, the light stubble on his jaw undeniably attractive, and those eyes?

Jesus…

"What are you doing here?" I asked, still a little breathless from my earlier escapades.

"I'm on pregnancy-craving duties," Hunter replied, waving a brown paper bag in front of himself. "Apparently, no other franchise makes chicken nuggets as crispy as this one." He nodded to the chair opposite me. "Mind if I sit?"

"Sure," I muttered, shoving my tray aside to make room for him.

"So," Hunter mused when he sat down. A wide smile broke out across his face as he looked me up and down. "Care to explain why you're dressed like you're trying out for the Olympic track team?"

"Funny," I growled. "I was out for a run."

"A food run?" he snickered.

"Oh, shut up," I shot back, tossing a fry at him. I took a sip from my coke, before saying, "I suck at exercise, but I excel at eating." Shrugging, I added, "Don’t judge me."

"I never do," he replied, his piercing blue eyes locked on mine.

I ate the rest of my meal in companionable silence, not bothered that Hunter was watching me stuff my face with food. He'd seen me do this on many occasions, so I wasn’t about to start worrying about what he thought now.

Besides, I felt oddly comfortable around Hunter. His accepting, happy-go-lucky nature was one of his best personality traits and one of my favorite things about him. He had this knack for putting me at ease.

"Do you want to come home with me?" he asked then, startling me.

"Home?" I squeaked.

"Yeah," he confirmed, giving me one of those sexy as hell half-smiles. "Home."

"Um…" I shifted uneasily in my chair. "I probably shouldn’t."

"Shut that part of your mind up and think for yourself, HC," he countered calmly, eyes locked on mine. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to go with you," I admitted, my words nothing more than a breathy admission.

It was either go with Hunter, or swallow my pride and call Annabelle to come pick me up.

There was no contest.

It was Hunter.

Every single time.

He stood up and reached for my hand. "Then, let's go."

And god forgive me, I placed my hand in his and went willingly.

* * *

Lucky

I had no idea what had happened to make Hope Carter want to exercise on her own accord, but I was guessing it was pretty fucking serious. She looked completely miserable when I saw her sitting in the corner of the restaurant earlier.

She was sitting in the passenger seat of my truck now, looking like a lost puppy, as I drove us back to The Hill. I was glad she had come with me without arguing because there was no way in hell I was leaving her alone back there. The vulnerability inside this woman was plain to see – if you were willing to take a closer look. She was sad, and confused and fucking lost in her own head. I hated it.

"Why are you called that?" she asked.

Those were the first five words she'd spoken in almost an hour and it threw me.

"Huh?"

"Lucky," she clarified, turning to look at me. "Where did it come from?"

I smiled as I thought about it. "When I was in kindergarten, I ran out of the playground chasing a ball one of my friends had thrown for me. There was a big U-Haul coming down the street, drove right over me."

"Omigod!" Hope gasped. "Were you okay?

"Perfect," I replied, smiling at the memory. "Not a scratch."

She gaped at me. "How?"

"I guess even at the age of four, my survival skills were boss," I laughed to myself at the memory. "I dropped to the ground and laid flat on my back. The truck drove straight over me, missing me completely. When the kids in my class called the teacher, she christened me Lucky – after she chewed me out real fucking good in front of all my friends, of course." Shrugging, I added, "The name stuck."

"Well, that's a pretty fitting nickname for a child who escaped death," Hope mused, smiling now. "The only pet name I was ever given was Hopey-Bear." She scrunched her nose in obvious distaste. "According to Derek, I was a 'sumo baby' and reminded him of a teddy-bear."

"All babies are chubby," I consoled as I tried not to laugh at how adorable she looked pouting. "It's a cute nickname for a baby."

"Oh yeah, it's so freaking cute," Hope scoffed. "Try being twenty-six and still having the majority of your family call you that." She shuddered and crossed her arms over her chest before adding, "I have enough issues without my family referring to me as a fucking teddy bear."

"Well, I think you're beautiful," I announced, deciding to add my two cents into the mix. "And the most un-teddy-bear-like looking female I have ever laid eyes on."

”Yeah, yeah." Hope rolled her eyes. "Even in my Olympic tryout clothing?"

"Especially in your Olympic tryout clothing."

Hope was quiet for the rest of the drive, but the brightness in her blue eyes, the slight rosy stain on her cheeks, and the way she perked up in her seat assured me that I'd said something right.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" I said when we pulled up outside Teagan and Noah's house. I killed the engine and turned to give Hope my full attention. "About anything." I studied her face, taking note of the loneliness in her blue eyes. She looked so damn sad. It fucking tore me up inside knowing that she was living like this… a half-fucking life. "I'm here for you." I knew my words sounded like a come-on, but I meant it in the most literal possible way. I needed Hope to know that she wasn’t alone. "For whatever you need."

I waited for what felt like a fucking age for her to finally look me in the eyes, and when she did, my heart jackknifed in my chest. Christ, she was something.

"Hunter, I…" she began to say, but quickly closed her mouth. She shook her head then and reached for the bag of takeout I'd bought for Teagan. "We better go and feed the beast," she joked before unbuckling her seatbelt and slipping out of the truck.

I didn’t move to follow her. Instead, I stayed in my truck and watched her disappear into the house. As I watched her walk away, all I could think was; I need to bring this woman back to life.

I could do it.

I could give her all the things he was incapable of giving.