For a second, my anger spluttered. She was hurt. She was in the hospital. I should—
I should stand up for Jacob.
God knew how often he’d been talked about behind his back.
Pointing a finger at both women, I said coldly, “You should be ashamed of yourselves.”
“Excuse me?” Gladys startled, her watery eyes growing wide. “Who are you?”
“I’m the girl who brought Jacob Wild to the hospital. I’m also the girl who can’t sit and listen to any more of your nonsense.” More pairs of eyes landed on me as I stood. This new drama was far more entertaining than two-year-old magazines.
“You were eavesdropping on our conversation?” Lorraine’s nose reached the ceiling. “You know what they say about listening to things that don’t concern you.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. It does concern me. It concerns me a great deal because you’re utterly heartless to laugh at a boy’s inability to move on after his father—his father—died. You’re cruel to gossip about one of your own. A son of this town who is a hard worker and a loyal friend.”
My voice shook as more fury layered it. “And you’re a freaking moron if you think Ren Wild had it easy. Did you not see the movie? Did you not hear what that Mclary farmer did to him? What they tried to do to their own daughter? You think Ren would’ve chosen that life, knowing he’d find some happiness all before he died anyway?”
Furious tears glittered, blurring the two women I wanted to slander and shame. “Do you think he wanted to die by coughing? Do you think he wouldn’t trade being wealthy if it meant he got to live a lifetime with his wife and son?”
The waiting room no longer existed. Patients and blood and a building full of pain no longer mattered as I leaned toward the two women and saw nothing more than stupidity. “Do you not think he’d give up all of it for one more day with the boy you’re laughing so callously about?”
Something hard and bruising latched around my upper arm.
And then I was moving, dragged toward the exit by the very same boy I’d been defending. He showed no signs of being in pain. No halted gait or tweaked spine. The strength in his fingers commanded me not to say a single word. Not a peep. Otherwise, I wouldn’t like the consequences.
“Jac—”
“Don’t.” His face shimmered with outrage—a visible emotion with strains of hatred, resentment, and violence etching lines around his eyes and tension around his jaw.
I bit my lip as he hauled me from the hospital and practically threw me through the doors.
Stumbling from his force, I tripped down the steps and spun to face him as he winced and slowed, unable to descend the stairs as effortlessly as he’d evicted me from the waiting room.
“Keys.” He held out his hand.
I fumbled in my pocket even as I whispered, “You can’t drive.”
His dark eyes, once again a malicious gleaming black, dared me, just dared me to stop him. He didn’t have to say a word. His stare was reprimand enough.
I dropped the car keys into his outstretched palm, flinching as he clutched them with brutal fingers. He strode off with rage fluttering in his wake.
Trailing him, I glanced back at the hospital, expecting to see a line-up of gossip-loving townsfolk, taking photos, jotting down what I’d said and how this ended. Ready to sell my mistake to the highest bidder.
But there was no one.
Just me and a boy who hated me.
God, what would Dad say if he knew I’d picked a fight with women in a hospital of all places? How on earth would I sit in a truck next to Jacob when his temper was so frayed even the car park wasn’t big enough for the two of us?
More tears came, but these weren’t born from anger. They were created from fear. Fear of going too far. Fear of ruining our friendship before it had even begun.
“Jacob, I’m…I’m sorry.”
His shoulders came up, barricading my apology.
“Please, I wasn’t intruding. I was—”
He slammed to a stop. His voice strangled. “Grandpa. Wh-what are you doing here?”
And just like that, I was no longer the worst part of Jacob’s day.
I skidded to a halt a few steps behind him, locked in place as the gruff, larger-than-life man climbed wearily from an old Land Rover. “Ah, Jakey. What are you doing here?”
Jacob’s rage found a new victim. The slight shake in his tone hinted at the mess his insides had become. “I asked you first.” His hands balled by his sides, the glint of keys digging into his fist. “Why are you here?”
The old man, who’d been nothing but kind to me whenever I’d run into him on the farm, scratched his white beard as if searching for a lie. Only, no lie came, and he hung his head. “Can we talk about this at home? Get your mom around, and we’ll have dinner together, okay?”
“No.” Jacob backed up, bumping into me in his haste. “Tell me now. What the fuck is going on?”
His grandfather didn’t reprimand for the curse. Instead, his eyes welled with grief. “I don’t want to do this to you, Jacob. Not here.” He moved toward Jacob, only for his grandson to feint to the side, a hiss of agony revealing his back wasn’t coping.
“Are you dying?” I expected Jacob’s voice to be strained and suffocated. However, it was strangely cold and remote, as if he’d already slammed up walls between him and the hardship of death.
John shook his head. “All of us are, Jakey. Some faster than others.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” Jacob bit. “Oncology is here. You know that as well as I do. That’s where you’re going, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”
“Jacob, listen to me.” John held up his hands in surrender. “It’s not something I can say in a parking lot. Let’s just go home.”
Jacob laughed coldly. “Can’t go home until you’ve finished your treatment, Grandpa. You know how strict they are about keeping your appointment. Dad never missed one, but it didn’t help him, did it?”
I didn’t know what to say. Should I stay out of this? Try to touch Jacob? Be on John’s side?
But Jacob decided for me, stalking toward his grandfather with a slight limp. “How long, huh? How long until you die?”
John’s huge frame slumped in defeat. “A year or so.”
“Of course.” Jacob chuckled in a chilling, heart-breaking way that sent knives down my spine. “I knew it. I just fucking knew it.”
He looked at the sky, a haggard groan escaping as if he wanted to scream but didn’t have the strength.
Then he was gone, bolting stiffly toward his car.
And I did the most cowardly thing of my life.
I let him haul himself painfully into the driver’s seat.
I didn’t move as he slammed the truck into reverse and shot from the parking lot as if the flames of damnation were already licking at his feet.
I stood frozen to the concrete as the squeal of an ancient engine stole him away and vanished around the corner.
A large, comforting hand landed on my shoulder, hugging the entire joint and part of my collarbone and bicep too.
John Wilson was so big and strong and…sick.
Looking up, I rubbed fingers under my eyes to remove any trace of tears. “Hello, Mr. Wilson.”
“Bah, John. Please.” The old man squeezed me. “You okay?”
“I will be.” I nodded. “Will you?”
His hand dropped. “Not now he knows. No.”
“I’m sorry.”
Sorry for whatever you’ve been fighting. Sorry for the limited time on earth. Sorry for life in general.
“He had to find out sooner rather than later.” He sniffed. Silence fell between us for a long moment. Finally, he asked, “Anything I should know about? Why was Jacob here?”
I rolled my shoulders, looking at the painted lines on the concrete. “He fell off Forrest. Hurt his back.”
“Ah.”
My eyes met his. “Please don’t tell Della. He made me promise.”
/>
John smiled sadly. “Sometimes promises shouldn’t be kept.”
“If it’s bad, I’ll tell her. I’ll find out tonight what the doctor said.”
He grinned. “You’re a brave girl, standing up to him.”
I cracked a smile. “Or just stupid.”
“Stupid is sometimes mistaken as bravery, but in this case, I don’t think it is.” He shuffled around me, another sigh shaking his big frame. “I’ve got to go. Can’t be late.” Tossing me his keys, he added, “If you can wait an hour, I’ll drive you home. Just hang in the car or go to the hospital cafeteria and grab some lunch. You got any money?”
I shook my head, feeling like a leech who’d stumbled into family drama and had no idea how to get out of it.
Pulling a scuffed leather wallet from his back pocket, John gave me a handful of bills. “Grab a drink. Looks like you need one. And then, we’ll talk on the drive home. Deal?”
He didn’t wait for my reply.
Just like his grandson, he left without a goodbye.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Jacob
* * * * * *
DRIVING THROUGH CHERRY River, I clutched the steering wheel. Partly from pain and partly from hoping I wouldn’t be noticed.
Please don’t let anyone be around.
Of course, that wish went unanswered as I turned the corner by the stables and almost ran Aunt Cassie over.
She had a biscuit of hay under one arm and a box of worming syringes in the other. In the paddock beyond, Mom had a bony yearling tied up, grooming him, doing her best to break the cycle of abuse and fear.
Aunt Cassie stopped. Mom looked up and smiled distractedly in my direction.
I didn’t wave, hoping they’d just go about their business.
I wasn’t in luck.
Mom went back to cooing and cuddling the rescue colt, but Aunt Cassie waved the worming syringes as if they were a stop sign, flagging me down.
“Goddammit.”
Shifting my leg from the accelerator to brake, I hid the wince from yet more pins and needles. The extra-strength painkillers the doctor gave me hadn’t done crap, and all I wanted was a hot bath and to be horizontal as soon as possible.
I slowed to a stop as Aunt Cassie came toward the driver’s side and waited for me to roll down the window. The second I did, she shot me a grin. A normal grin that said she didn’t know about my fall or subsequent hospital visit.
Well, good. At least Hope had done one thing right.
She’d kept my secret.
Then again, it was the only thing she’d done right. What the hell had she been thinking, talking about my father that way? Why had she been yelling at those women?
I’d done my best to stop my thoughts straying to Hope on the drive home, mainly because the moment they did, they’d skip to Grandpa John.
The shock on his face.
The dismay in his eyes.
The lies he’d spun for years unravelling by his feet.
Did Aunt Cassie know? Did Mom?
How long had they been in on his illness without telling me?
“Hey, Jacob.” Aunt Cassie squinted in the sun.
“Hey.” I swallowed, wiping away the sweat beaded on my upper lip from the pain of driving home and the agony of knowing Grandpa John would be gone sooner than I could bear. “What’s up?”
Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Saw Hope driving this old relic with you as co-pilot this morning. Care to explain?”
“Why do I need to explain?”
“’Cause you never let anyone drive this rust bucket.” She leaned closer, a meddling glint on her face. “What made her so special?”
I stiffened. “Maybe she just asked nicely.”
“Or maybe something’s going on between you two.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What are you implying?”
She rested her hand on my door. “Not implying anything. I’m asking straight up if something’s going on between you and Hope.”
I sat in icy silence, hoping the visible disgust on my face would warn her to back the hell off.
Instead, her grin became a smirk. “Ah, so something is going on.”
“I’d quit before—”
“Before what? Before you admit you have feelings for her?”
I sniffed, indignant. “No feelings. Nothing’s going on. Nobody is interested in anybody.”
“Ah, see that’s where you’re wrong. She has feelings for you.”
My back blazed fresh agony as I sat bolt upright.
That revelation wasn’t new. I’d sensed such a thing myself.
But to have others know?
Shit.
Just shit.
“I have to go.” I kept my temper, barely. “Work is calling.” I hated to admit it, but I wouldn’t be working today. I might be forced to take a week off at this rate. My back wasn’t going to heal overnight—as much as I’d argued with the doctor.
“Ugh, work. Take the day off. You deserve some fun. Fall in love. Fool around. Be young, Jacob.”
“Did you get into the cherry liquor early this year, Aunt Cassie?”
She snickered. “Ha ha. No. I just want you to be happy—”
“Enough.”
Her smile faded as seriousness I didn’t want shadowed her. “I’m worried about you, Jacob. You’re twenty-one years old. You should have sneaked out and been with a few girls by now.”
“What the hell is this? Why are you suddenly so interested in my love life?”
“You don’t have a love life. That’s my point.”
“Wow.” I barked a laugh. “Are there no boundaries within this family anymore?” I fumbled for the gearstick, wishing the old truck was a rocket ship and could launch me into outer space. “I’m done. This is the part where I leave.” Shoving the engine into first, I stomped on the accelerator.
She clutched my door, moving with the roll of my tyres. “Jacob—”
I paused. I couldn’t exactly drive off with her holding on to my truck. “Let go, Aunt Cassie.”
“Not until I’ve finished.” She looked away, her cheeks pinking. “I know Della most likely had the ‘chat’ with you, but if you ever want a refresher or just want to ask an embarrassing question that isn’t ‘Mom appropriate’ you know you can come to me? Right?”
I shuddered at the thought of asking Aunt Cassie for sex advice. What the hell would she know? She was married with a daughter a few years older than me. I doubted she even kissed Chip these days, let alone got naked with the guy.
“I know this subject is awkward…” Cassie shifted a little uncomfortably. “But sex doesn’t have to mean anything if you’re not looking for an emotional connection. You can just be physical—”
“Stop.” I wiped my mouth with my hand. “Seriously. Please stop.”
“You don’t have to be a monk just because you don’t like getting close to people.”
“Oh, my God. Drop it.”
“You know that, though, right? You know about condoms and—”
“Shit, yes. Okay!” My cheeks turned into an inferno. “I know the mechanics. I’m well equipped, believe me.” My voice lowered, mingling with embarrassment and sorrow. “Dad told me all I need to know.”
“He did?” Her eyes widened. “But you…you would’ve been so young.”
“He said he wished someone would’ve told him that stuff when he was young.”
Her cheeks pinked. “Fair enough. In that case…” She let go of my door. “I love you, Jacob. We all love you. We just want you to be happy.”
Her love was tangible—just like my mom’s, Uncle Chip’s, and Grandpa John’s. I felt it in every stare, smile, and conversation.
The pain in my back relocated to my heart.
“Thanks.” I smiled as much as I was able. “Truly. I still think you’re drunk…but you’re sweet for attempting to have the worst sex talk of my life with me.”
“Welcome.” She laughed and blew me a kiss. “Go find that girl of yours
. Get a real kiss—”
“And you just had to ruin it again. Stay off the booze.” I didn’t roll this time. I shot forward, kicking up gravel in my haste.
I glanced in my rear-view mirror.
She laughed harder, blew me another kiss, and continued across the drive to Mom and the rescues.
She said everyone loved me.
And I knew that. Of course, I did.
Yet they’d all kept secrets from me.
Grandpa John was dying.
His impending demise was unforgivable, and the fact that no one told me was equally inexcusable. I might not be as touchy-feely as the rest of my family, but that didn’t mean secrets could be kept from me.
How could Aunt Cassie joke about hooking up with someone when her dad was dying?
I’d lived that particular tragedy myself.
It wasn’t something you could forget—even while they were still alive beside you.
Pressing harder on the gas, I left my aunt and mother behind and headed toward an empty cabin, lonely couch, and desolate existence.
A safe existence.
The only existence I could cope with.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Jacob
* * * * * *
“JACOB. JACOB. JAKE.”
My eyes flew wide, locking onto a darker shadow hovering over me in the night-shrouded room.
Self-preservation kicked in, and I jack-knifed up. Agony lanced down my spine, and thunder exploded in my head. Despite the pins and needles and woozy vision, my hands curled, ready to punch the intruder or run for the rifle I kept for equine catastrophes.
Soft hands touched my fists as I raised them, cursing the quaking in my body. “Hey, it’s just me. Hope. You do remember me, right? The fall didn’t wipe out your short-term memory?”
I groaned, shaking off her touch and inching myself back down to the pillows. “Believe me, if my concussion had wiped out my short-term memory, I’d still know who you are. You’re in my long-term, Hope Jacinta Murphy, and that is not a good thing.”
I deliberately used her full name, reminding her that I was fourteen when she first made an awkward impression on me and seven years definitely didn’t classify as short term.
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