When I woke up on Friday morning, it was with the sole focus of putting the spark back in my marriage.

The disconnect between us had to stop.

One of us had to do something to try and bridge the gap, so I decided that someone would be me. Which was why, by seven o clock this evening, the house smelled like a florist had thrown up in the living room.

Okay, so maybe I had gone a tad overboard with the rose petals everywhere, but dammit, I was determined to make tonight a success.

I had even texted Annabelle this morning and asked if she could make herself scarce for the night.

Surprisingly, she had texted me back almost immediately with three huge thumbs up, followed by a message letting me know that she and Ryder would stay with her sister, and then a third and final text to wish me good luck.

I cooked his favorite dish – lasagna – and I shaved every inch of my body before dressing in the sexy, red baby-doll I'd bought at the store this morning.

I'd made a decision that I would try harder for him. I would make an effort. Yeah, I was still slightly traumatized from our last sexual encounter, but I wasn’t a quitter. I figured I'd learn to enjoy it, and if that's all he could offer me, then I would take it.

When I had everything in order, I sat at the kitchen table and waited for him to come home from work.

And waited.

And waited.

When Jordan finally walked through the door at a quarter after ten, he looked exhausted. He walked into the kitchen only to halt mid-step when he noticed me sitting in what was as good as underwear at the table. His eyes widened momentarily as his gaze raked over me before noticing the trail of rose petals he'd trudged over.

"Hey," I said, cheeks reddening as I got to my feet. "I've been waiting for you."

"Hope?" Jordan frowned as he glanced around the room again before settling his attention on me. "What are you doing?" He looked around again, this time doing a full three-sixty, as if he couldn’t quite figure out what was going on.

"I'm attempting to seduce you." Shrugging sheepishly, I gestured to my attire. "I thought it was kind of obvious."

"Right now?"

I frowned at his words. "What's wrong with right now?"

He looked at me, expression pained. "I have to go back to the hospital –"

"No," I blurted out, interrupting him. "No, no, no, you don’t!"

"I really do," he groaned, looking pained as he stared at me. "I just came back to grab my notes."

"Cancel," I urged, prowling towards him. "Call in sick." When I reached his side, I pressed my body to his. "Stay here with me."

"I can't," he choked out. "There's a patient that was just admitted. High risk."

"So?" I hissed. "There are other staff at the hospital, Jordan. They can manage without you."

"I told my boss I'd come in and work with him," he choked out. "He's a previous patient of mine. Relapsing. I'm sorry, Hope."

"Sorry?" I balked, taking a step back from him. "You're sorry!"

"I didn’t know you'd be…" his words trailed off and he gestured to my near-naked body. "Waiting for me."

"I can’t believe this." Jerking away from him, I placed my hands on my hips and glared. "Have you any idea how much work I put into planning this evening for us?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" He turned and grabbed a stack of paperwork off the counter. "Look, I really have to go." He paused and looked at me with a pained expression. "Can we talk about this when I get home?"

"Are you serious right now?" I gaped at him. "No, we most certainly cannot talk about this when you get home!"

"I'm sorry, Keychain, but this is my job. I have to go."

"No. I don’t give a shit if this is your job or not," I snarled unsympathetically, following after him as he walked towards the front door. "Don’t you dare walk away from this, Jordan!" I hissed as I watched him open the front door. "I mean it," I called out in warning. "Walk out that door and there's no guarantee I'll be here when you get back."

"I love you."

And then he was gone.

Again.

Leaving me alone.

Again.

"Asshole!" Furious, I stormed into our bedroom and grabbed my overnight bag from under the bed. With trembling hands and a growing temper, I began to pack my pajamas and a spare change of clothes, needing to get the hell away from this place. Not bothering to change, I slipped an over-sized hoodie on before shrugging into a pair of baggy sweatpants.

I wasn’t going to sit in this house and wait for him to come back.

I'd spent eight long years waiting for him to come back.

No more.

No freaking more.

I had to get out of here.

For the sake of my own sanity.

I couldn’t put up with living like this.

Giving my whole, my freaking all, to him and getting a slither of him in return.

Why couldn’t he stay?

Why couldn’t he put me first for once?

Because he didn’t want to, and because everything that ever happened in our relationship happened on his terms.

It was all about what he wanted, what he felt okay with, what he decided was right, and I was done with it.

It made me a horrible woman and a weak one, but I couldn’t handle this life.

I wasn’t selfless enough to live like this.

I couldn’t fight his demons, not when they were crippling me, too.

I was losing myself in this and I didn’t like it.

If he wasn’t prepared to put our marriage first, then why should I?

When I had my overnight bag stowed away in my truck and was halfway down the street, I dialed Teagan's number.

She answered on the third ring. "Hey!"

"I need a favor."

"Okay…"

"Jordan and I had a huge fight." I looked in the mirror before pressing on my blinker and turning onto the street. "And I need a place to stay for the night. I can't go home and listen to my parent's bullshit, and they'll know if I check into the hotel."

"Yeah, sure. Come over."

I sighed in relief. "You're sure?"

"Of course–" She paused and I heard some ruffling and whispered murmurs in the background. "We're not at home, but you still have your key, right?"

I took a quick peek at my keychain and nodded. "Yeah, I do."

"Hope?"

"Yeah?"

"Want me to kick his ass?"

I bit back a smile. "God, I love you."

* * *

When I reached the house, I killed the engine and just sat for a moment, thinking everything over.

I felt so lost.

I felt like a freaking teenager again and I despised it.

I was beginning to resent myself for being so naively stupid for believing in love and happy ever after's. Because if this was mine? If this was all I got, I wanted a freaking refund.

Anger and shame crept through me, causing me so much conflicting feelings that I lost it and smacked the shit out of my steering wheel.

Maybe I needed to go downstairs to Noah's basement and work out my frustrations on one of his punching bags?

I was so freaking frustrated and angry and bitter and a million other ugly, negative feelings.

Bummed out, I let myself into the house and trudged straight into the kitchen, dropping my bag on the marble tiles before making a beeline towards the refrigerator.

I needed something to drink.

No, I wanted something to drink and I wanted to be able to drink it without having the guilt of consuming it around my recovering addict husband.

Grabbing a chilled bottle of Savion Blanc, I retrieved a wine glass from the cupboard and plodded into the living room, preparing to spend the night in misery and mourning my failing marriage.

Doomed, was the word I finally determined best suited our marriage.

Jordan and I were fucking doomed from the get-go.

Love wasn’t enough in our case and I didn’t think it ever would be.

I didn’t bother switching on the television.

I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything anyway.

Not tonight.

I waited for what felt like forever for him to call me or send a text.

He didn’t.

With every glass of wine I consumed, my cell became the enemy.

I was burning mad.

Hurt and rejection washed through my veins, blending with the alcohol and making for a disastrous concoction.

Finally, the silence was broken by the sound of the front door slamming.

Too drunk to get up, I remained where I was seated and decided to crane my neck around to see who was there.

When my eyes landed on Hunter, and the gorgeous blonde draped in his arms, the pain I had felt earlier laughed at me.

It was as if my heart was saying, Ha fool, you think that's pain, you haven't seen anything yet.

Scorching, blinding, paralyzing spasms of pain shot through my alcohol ridden body.

His eyes landed on my face and surprise filled his features before awareness dawned on him.

But he didn’t push her away or try to explain himself like I had half expected him to do.

No, instead he gently coaxed her up the staircase – to his bedroom no doubt

Jesus.

Oh, dear god.

Clutching my chest, I was almost surprised when my hand came away without any remnants of blood; it certainly felt like I had just been sliced through the heart.

Tears poured down my cheeks, but I remained silent, motionless, grief stricken on the couch.

My soul felt like it was being dragged clean out of my body.

I was surprised I was still breathing.

I felt like I should have been dead by now because this pain should have killed me.

One shrill, harsh sob tore from my throat and, angry with myself for letting it out, I threw my glass at the fireplace.

The sound of the glass shattering didn’t help me or ease my pain, so I curled up in the smallest ball I could and rocked.

I heard his pained growl moments before I felt his hands on my body.

"Go away," I sobbed, barely able to breathe through the pain as Hunter hoisted me into his arms.

"No," was all he replied as he carried me up the staircase towards my old room.

When we reached my bedroom, he kicked the door inwards and walked us over to my bed before sitting me down and crouching on his hunches in front of me.

"Get out," I cried.

He didn’t.

"I said go!"

He ignored my screams and he didn’t leave.

Instead, he reached up and wiped my mascara stained cheeks with his thumb. "No."

"I hate you so much," I sobbed as I leaned my cheek into his touch.

"I know," he whispered as he continued to clean me up.

"Why are you even here? Go back to your whore!" I hissed, shoving him roughly away with one hand, only to bunch his shirt in my other hand and pull him closer. I was beyond confused. In fact, I was sure I was going crazy. "Fuck!"

"I'm sure my sister wouldn’t appreciate being called a whore," Hunter replied in a coaxing tone of voice. "Though, I've only known her a year, so I can't really vouch for her on that."

"Your sister?"

Hunter nodded and wiped my cheek with his thumb. "That hot mess you saw me cart off to bed was Hayden." He paused to capture another traitorous tear from my cheek before saying, "I got a call about an hour ago from a friend telling me to come pick her up." Sighing, he added, "Guess she fell off the wagon again."

"I didn’t know you had a sister," I hiccupped, feeling like a fool for my demented reaction. "How old is she?"

"Nineteen, though she acts like she's nine."

"Damn."

"What?"

"I remember what that age felt like." I cringed in sympathy. "Tough age for a girl."

"Seems to me like twenty-six isn’t exactly smooth sailing either?" He gave me a knowing look. "Am I right?"

The grip I had on his shirt tightened as a pained sob tore from my lips. "God, I'm such a mess," I whispered, dropping my head in shame. "I think I'm going crazy."

"Oh, I don’t know," Hunter replied with another overly-dramatic sigh. "Maybe just a tad." With his thumb, he tipped my chin upwards, forcing me to look at him. "But I like your crazy." With that, he tapped the tip of my nose with his finger and smiled sadly. "So, what happened?"

I blinked in confusion. "Huh?"

"You're here," he filled in, "you're alone, and you're sad. What happened?"

"It's a very long, very drawn out story," I whispered, hiccupping as I tried to steady myself. Feeling both mentally and physically exhausted from tonight's events, I kicked off my sneakers and curled up in a ball on the bed. "But the ending goes something along the lines of 'he broke my heart again and now I get to live unhappily ever after’ – again."

I watched Hunter watch me for the longest moment before he finally shook his head and rose to his feet. "Goodnight, HC."

"Don’t go," I whispered when he turned for the door. "Please." Swallowing deeply, I added, "Can you just stay and hold me until I fall asleep?" Shivering, I added, "I just really need somebody to hold me tonight."

I watched as a tirade of emotions flickered across his face before landing on what looked like subdued resignation.

"Move over," he whispered and I did.

The mattress dipped when he sprawled out beside me.

Turning on my side, I snuggled my back against him and shivered when I felt his arm come around me. "You always make things better."

His breath fanned my neck when he whispered, "Goodnight, HC."

That night I slept like a baby.

* * *

Lucky

I woke to find her sleeping beside me.

For the longest time, I just stared at her, memorizing the way her face looked when dawn was breaking.

I knew I should wake her up, but I didn’t have the strength to.

I wanted to keep her.

Selfish as it sounded, I was glad she'd fallen asleep last night.

I got to have her for a little while longer.

For a stolen moment in time, I got to pretend that she was only mine.

Of course, when she woke up and realized she'd accidentally spent the night in my arms, everything would go to shit and I would spend the next five days trying to reassure her of bullshit I didn’t believe and wanted even less.

But I loved her.

And loving her made me bend all of my morals.

It changed something inside of me, softened something.

Made me willing to do whatever it took to keep her happy, even if that made me miserable.