Hosie~ One Shots

Payment Part 4

Hope stared down at Josie's hand, the soft touch sending a warmth through her she hadn't expected. For so long, she'd kept herself closed off from anything that could make her vulnerable, but Josie's touch, her words, made something inside her want to open up—even just a little.

"I'm not used to this," Hope admitted, her voice quieter now, as if she were confessing something she wasn't sure she had the strength to say. "Letting someone in... it feels foreign. Like I've forgotten how."

Josie's thumb traced gentle circles on Hope's hand, her gaze unwavering. "You don't have to rush it. I'm not going anywhere."

Hope looked up, meeting Josie's steady gaze, and for a moment, all the walls she'd built around herself seemed thinner, less insurmountable. There was something comforting in Josie's presence, something Hope had never really let herself feel before.

She took a deep breath, her defenses slowly lowering. "You're... different," Hope said, her voice almost a whisper. "I don't think anyone's ever made me feel like this. Safe, but... terrified at the same time."

Josie smiled softly, leaning forward just a little. "I think that's how you know it's real."

They sat there in silence for a moment, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. The intimacy between them, the vulnerability that had crept in, felt like something delicate—something that could be broken with one wrong move. But neither of them pulled away.

After a few moments, Hope cleared her throat, trying to ease the intensity between them. "So," she said, her tone lightening, "are we going to keep having these deep conversations, or should I show you around the lakehouse?"

Josie laughed, the tension dissolving a bit. "I'd love to see it. I feel like there's a lot of history here."

Hope stood up, her hand still loosely holding Josie's, and gently tugged her to her feet. "You have no idea."

They walked through the house together, Hope pointing out little things—an old fishing rod her father used to teach her with, a bookshelf filled with books Klaus had insisted on bringing, even though Hope had barely read any of them as a child. Each story was told with a mix of nostalgia and sadness, and Josie could see how much this place meant to Hope.

When they reached the back porch, Hope paused, looking out at the moonlit lake beyond. The water was still, reflecting the sky like glass, and the air was crisp, filled with the scent of pine and earth. It was peaceful, yet heavy with memory.

"This was my dad's favorite spot," Hope said quietly. "Whenever things got... bad, we'd come here. It was like our escape."

Josie stood beside her, their arms brushing as they looked out at the serene view. "Do you miss him?" she asked softly.

Hope swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on the water. "Every day."

They stood there for a while, neither saying anything, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Josie turned to Hope, her voice gentle. "You don't have to be alone, you know. You don't have to carry everything by yourself."

Hope looked at her, the vulnerability from earlier returning. "I've been alone for so long, Josie. I don't know how to be any other way."

"Then let me help you," Josie said, her voice firm but kind. "We'll figure it out together, like I said. One step at a time."

Hope didn't respond right away, but the look in her eyes said more than words could. For the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like she had to carry the weight of the world alone. With Josie standing beside her, maybe—just maybe—she could finally start letting go.