Freefall (19 page)

She understood that Faith took comfort in fashion and city culture. Hope would drive her sister all the way to New York, if necessary. She stopped at Starbucks, ordering Faith’s favorite iced drink.

“He’s hot,” she said, taking a contemplative sip.

“Who?”

“Your rock climber.”

Hope didn’t say anything.

“I embarrassed him.”

“He deserved it.”

She reached across the console, taking Hope’s hand.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

F
AITH
AWOKE
with
a start.

Late afternoon sunlight poured through the cracks in the window blinds, making tiger stripes across her body. Her pulse was racing, her skin damp with perspiration. She sat up in bed, lifting the hair off the back of her neck.

Hope stood at the doorway.

Faith had slept for most of the past two days while her sister puttered around the apartment, double-checking locks and monitoring foot traffic on the sidewalk below. She lived on a busy street, so Hope could profile strangers to her heart’s content.

“A nightmare?”

Faith nodded, reaching for the water by her bedside. She drank thirstily and padded to the bathroom. She looked awful.

“That’s it,” she said to her pale, scared-rabbit reflection.

“What?” Hope asked.

“We’re going out tonight.”

Faith turned on the water and stepped in the shower stall, wallowing in the comfort of the pulsing spray. She’d taken several long showers since she got home, but she hadn’t managed to regain her sense of calm.

She told herself that anyone in her position would be jumpy. She’d been kidnapped and assaulted. It would take time before she felt relaxed again.

Some of the memories were sharper than others, like fragments of glass in her psyche. Caleb’s shooting. Nick, chasing her through the woods. Javier’s boss, rubbing his knuckles against her cheek.

She sympathized with Caleb and Ted. Their attempt to rescue her had been a quest for thrills and personal glory, but neither deserved to be attacked. Nick’s personal assault disturbed her more than the brutal violence she’d witnessed on the hiking trail, however. She couldn’t wash away his touch.

When Faith got out of the shower, she took pains with her appearance. Her hair was blow-dried, straightened and curled under like a ’40s pinup. She put on a vampy dress and slick heels. Full makeup with red lips completed the look.

After primping herself, she turned her attention to Hope. Her sister had borrowed a navy shirtwaist dress, one of the plainest items in Faith’s closet. The fabric hugged her curvier figure, emphasizing her bust and hips.

“This doesn’t fit,” Hope said.

Faith disagreed. “It’s perfect.”

They wore the same size shoes, and Hope humored her by donning a pair of wedge sandals that did great things for her legs. She also let Faith doll her up with mascara, eye shadow and lip gloss.

“You should keep that dress,” Faith said. On impulse, she picked up her cell phone to capture the moment. Smiling, she held her arm out straight and leaned in close to Hope as she snapped a photo.

“Don’t post this on Facebook. It’s too...celebratory.”

Faith studied the image, puzzled. Although she looked confident and stylish, she didn’t feel that way.

They walked to her favorite sushi restaurant. A couple of guys checked them out as they passed the bar. Usually, Faith enjoyed this type of attention. Tonight, it made her skin crawl. Instead of flashing a flirtatious smile, she avoided eye contact.

She’d told her sister everything about the kidnapping, including the quasi rape. Hope had also shared her side of the story. When she admitted to sleeping with Sam, Faith didn’t judge; she pressed for details.

As soon as they were seated, Hope glanced at her cell phone screen. With a small frown, she turned it off.

“Is that him again?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you answer?”

“I’m spending time with you.”

“You’re ignoring him.”

The waiter appeared to take their drink order. Faith requested an appletini. Hope asked for white wine.

They’d discussed the sequence of events, but they hadn’t talked much about feelings. Faith understood that Sam Rutherford had some issues. So did Hope. “Are you going to go out with him again?”

“No.”

“Why not? You said he was good in bed.”

“That’s not everything.”

“Being rich doesn’t hurt.”

“Being a jerk does.”

Although Faith agreed, her attitude toward Sam had changed. He’d saved her sister’s life repeatedly. She was willing to forgive his other flaws.

“Would you see Javier again?” Hope asked.

“I don’t have that option.”

“What if you did?”

“I’d see him.”

Hope’s brown eyes softened with sympathy.

Faith knew there was no chance for her to reunite with Javier, but...she missed him. Even though he was guilty of shocking criminal acts, and responsible for a situation that had gone violently wrong, she still wanted him. She wasn’t sure what depressed her more: the post-traumatic stress, or her broken heart.

The waiter arrived with their drinks. After taking a sip of her crisp appletini, Faith ordered a plate of California-roll sushi for them to share. The appetizer came quickly. She selected one of the colorful shapes, adding a tiny dollop of wasabi.

“I think he’s in love with you,” Faith mused.

Hope almost choked on her sushi. When she recovered, she said, “You saw him for two seconds.”

“Yeah, but he looked suitably ashamed after I was rude to him. He bought me that awful gift store outfit, and he was nice to the ’rents. If he didn’t care about you, he wouldn’t have come to the hospital at all.”

“He’s in love with his ex,” she said dismissively.

“Then why’s he chasing you?”

“Because he can’t have her. I’m his do-over. Melissa 2.0.”

Faith popped another bite into her mouth, wondering if Hope was right. Sam had called her another woman’s name once. Minus points for that.

“He also avoids reality, and he’s a loner who won’t face his past. There’s no way he can move on until he deals with his problems.”

Faith chuckled at the criticisms, shaking her head. The ironic part was that Hope had just described herself.

“Why is that funny?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Hope turned the tables on her. “Are you in love with Javier?”

Although Faith should have anticipated this question, it caught her off guard. She took another sip of her drink. “How could I be in love with him? We just met.”

“I’ve spent the same amount of time with Sam.”

“Your affair started months ago,” she said.

“We didn’t have an affair. He screwed me three times and threw me out.”

“Three times, really?”

Her cheeks flushed pink. “What difference does it make?”

“None, if he’s the only one who came.”

Hope glanced around, as if worried someone could overhear their conversation.

“I have this theory about female orgasms,” Faith continued, arching a brow. “You get closer to a man every time he gets you off.”

“The important part is that he threw me out, not that he got me off,” Hope said in an embarrassed whisper.

“He didn’t want you to see him in the morning.”

Hope’s lips parted with surprise. She’d told Faith about Sam’s memory problems and his emotional breakdown after he’d mistaken her for Melissa. But she hadn’t been able to put two and two together. For an intelligent, intuitive woman, Hope really sucked at analyzing her own relationships.

“We were talking about Javier, not Sam,” her sister said. “Are you planning to stay in contact with him?”

“No. I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were.”

“Just ‘flighty’ and ‘free-spirited’?”

Hope flinched at her tone. “Faith...”

“Not all of us want to be perfect ladies.”

“I’m not perfect,” Hope sputtered, holding a hand to her chest.

“You’re not a wild slut, either.”

“Yes, I am! I practically begged Sam to fuck me.”

Faith exploded with laughter. She didn’t know what was funnier: the fact that Hope considered this behavior forward, or her frank language in public. “You’ve come a long way, sis. Pun intended.”

“I can’t believe you’re encouraging me to date someone so...”

“Risky?”

“I was going to say unbalanced.”

“Safe choices aren’t challenging, Hope. He might be good for you.”

She looked away, pensive. Faith knew her sister well enough to guess that she was twisting her hands in her lap. Hope wanted to play caregiver and counselor to Faith, even though her experiences over the past two days had been just as traumatic, if not more so. She’d come to L.A. to run from trouble—and Sam.

They finished their drinks and the hearty appetizer. Neither felt like ordering an entrée. The waiter returned to ask if they wanted a refill, courtesy of two men at the bar. Faith didn’t even glance over there. Hope shook her head.

“We’re taken,” Faith said, declining the offer.

They left the restaurant, arm in arm. The feminist art exhibit Faith wanted to see was only a few blocks away. She relished the pinch of her stilettos on the way there, finding comfort in the familiar sensation.

“I was date-raped in college,” she said.

Hope, whose wedge heels were much easier to navigate, stumbled nevertheless. “What?”

“I was raped. Freshman year.”

Hope’s eyes darkened with pain. They were like twins. When Faith hurt, Hope felt it. “You never told me that.”

Faith swallowed, continuing their stroll. “I never told anyone. I think I blocked it out, even from myself.”

“What happened?”

“I was drunk at a frat party. The guy’s name was Brett. I’d actually been dating him for several weeks, and we’d had consensual sex before. That night, I was mad at him for flirting with another girl. I decided to get revenge by teasing him and leaving him unsatisfied. He got mad and...threw me down.”

“Did he hit you?”

“No. I was too wasted to fight. But he knew I didn’t want it. He apologized after.”

Hope stopped to give her a hug. “What did you do?”

“Nothing. I didn’t even break up with him right away.”

“You’re kidding.”

She shook her head, sighing. “The next time he took me to his room, I felt sick. I couldn’t be alone with him anymore. He promised to be gentle, but I didn’t want him kissing me or touching me again. I told him it was over.”

“Oh, Faith. I’m so sorry.”

“I know it wasn’t my fault.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” Hope said, her nostrils flaring with rage. “What happened to him? Where is he?”

Great White Hope. She probably wanted to arrest him. “He got in a car accident a few years later. Drunk driving.”

“He’s dead?”

“Yes.”

Hope relaxed a little, her anger shifting back into concern.

Faith wasn’t sure why she’d started this conversation. Nick’s attack had brought back latent memories of Brett. “I thought I could just go on as if it never happened. I didn’t want the experience to drag me down. I vowed to keep flirting with men and having fun. Maybe I went too far in my quest to be carefree.”

“This is my fault,” Hope said. “I should have known.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in my own issues, I could have guessed that you were hurting.”

“I wasn’t hurting. I was partying.”

“As a coping mechanism.”

Faith waved a hand in the air, dismissive.

“I always thought you were living it up because you didn’t want to be like me. All work and no play.”

“That might have been part of it,” Faith admitted. “You weren’t the only one who felt sad, you know. She was my niece. You’re my sister. I was grieving, too. It was hard for me to watch you suffer.”

Hope glanced away, blinking tears from her eyes.

Faith knew it was time to confront Hope about the past. They had to deal with this now, not keep it buried, like a shameful secret.

“Do you want to go to the gallery?” Hope asked.

Although they’d arrived at the exhibit, Faith steered her sister back home. “I have something else to show you.”

* * *

H
OPE
CHECKED
THE
locks on the windows and the dead bolt on the door in Faith’s apartment.

Nothing had been tampered with. The space was free of intruders.

“Is it all clear, Ranger Banning?”

She frowned at her sister’s tone. Faith never took anything seriously. She’d acted more subdued since the kidnapping, but she seemed determined to get back to her regular routine. Hope worried that her sister would be careless with her personal safety. Who would watch over Faith after Hope went back to the Sierras?

She couldn’t believe Faith had never told her about the date rape. No wonder the recent attack had traumatized her. Hope was enraged at the thought of anyone hurting her sister. She’d go to the ends of the earth to protect Faith.

Their conversation about Sam had unsettled her further. He knew she was in L.A., and he kept trying to call her. She was afraid to answer. She could forgive his bad behavior and overlook his “brain damage.” The real obstacle was her fear of falling in love with him. One nudge, and she’d topple over the edge.

Faith brought a shoe box out of her bedroom. It looked worn at the corners, as if she’d been keeping it a long time. She sat down on the herringbone couch in the living room, holding the box in her lap.

“What is that?” Hope asked, taking the seat next to her.

“I was surprised you’d told Sam about the baby,” she said, keeping her fingers closed around the lid. “You don’t even talk to me about it.”

“You already know.”

“I know what happened. Not how you feel.”

Hope didn’t discuss the experience because it was too painful. She’d assumed her sister understood that. It was the same reason Faith had kept quiet about the date rape. But if she could open up, so could Hope. “I feel bad.”

“Why?”

“Because I couldn’t keep her.”

“Is that so wrong?”

“Yes, Faith. I brought a child into the world that I couldn’t take care of. It’s a pretty big deal to me.”

“I know it’s a big deal. What I’m saying is that it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Hope agreed, in theory. She shouldn’t feel ashamed, but she
did.
The unplanned pregnancy and subsequent adoption represented her lowest point, her darkest secret. “I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

“No. You can stop beating yourself up about it. You can give yourself some credit for making a mature decision.”