Losing Hope (Hopeless #2)

Chapter Forty-nine-and-a-half

Sky and I took the last two days of the week off school. We figured we already missed three days, what’s two more? Besides, Karen wanted to keep a close eye on Sky all week. She’s concerned about how everything is affecting her.

I agreed to give Sky space for a few days, but what Karen doesn’t realize is that Sky’s window still sees regular traffic in the middle of the night. All from me.

I’ve spent the last few days in deep discussions with Mom. She wanted to know everything I knew about Les and Hope and of course she wanted to know what happened last weekend in Austin. Then she wanted to know all about my relationship with Sky, so I brought her up to date. Then she said she wanted to meet her.

So here we are. Sky just walked through the front door and my mom has her arms around her. She started crying almost immediately, which in turn made Sky tear up a little. Now they’re standing in the foyer and my mother won’t let go of her.

“I don’t want to interrupt this homecoming,” I say. “But if you don’t let her go, Mom, you might scare her away.”

My mother laughs and sniffles, pulling away from Sky. “You’re so beautiful,” she says, smiling at Sky. She turns to me. “She’s beautiful, Holder.”

I shrug. “Yeah, she’s okay.”

Sky laughs and hits me on the arm. “Remember? The insults are only funny in text form.”

I grab her and pull her to me. “You’re not beautiful, Sky,” I whisper in her ear. “You’re incredible.”

She wraps her arms around me in return. “You’re not so bad, yourself,” she says.

My mother takes her by the hand and pulls her away from me and into the living room, then she begins to bombard her with questions. I appreciate it, though, because she doesn’t ask her questions about her situation or her past. She just asks normal questions about what she wants to major in when she goes to college and where she’s planning to go to college. I leave them both in the living room to continue their conversation while I walk to the garage and grab a few boxes. Mom and I have talked about clearing out Les’s room before. Now that I have Sky here, I think I’ll actually be able to do it.

I walk back to the living room and hand them each a box. “Come on,” I say, heading toward the stairs. “We’ve got a room to clean.”

We spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning out Les’s room. We box her pictures and anything that meant something to her in one box, then we put all her clothes in boxes to take to Goodwill. I take both notebooks and I wrap them in the pair of jeans that have been on the floor for over a year and I place it all in a box. A box I keep.

After the room is finished, my mother and Sky head downstairs. I stack the boxes in the hallway, then turn to shut the door. Before I close it completely, I look to her bed. I don’t watch her die again. I watch her smile.

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