“That’s true.” She sat down without asking, pressing herself against my thighs wrapped beneath the quilt. My eyes narrowed as she made herself comfortable, encroaching on my personal space, and not having the decency to get off my damn bed.
Her legs came up, sitting cross-legged, her hair loose and sleek over her right shoulder. Stars glittered strong tonight, casting my glass-box bedroom in silvery, shadowy light.
So many things were wrong with this picture. What the hell was she doing in my bedroom? Why did she think we had the sort of relationship where sitting on my bed uninvited was acceptable?
Giving her a glare, I shuffled higher, shoving my pillows behind me, so I sat up too. My spine had something nasty to say about the new position, but there was no way I could lie down with Hope beside me. It made me feel weak, vulnerable, and unwanted heat travelled into places I never intended to use. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to check on you.”
“You could’ve come during daylight hours like a normal person.” Then again, I was thankful I’d had no visitors today. Even Mom had stayed away, which meant I’d been able to spend all afternoon in bed.
She plucked at my blankets. “I-I didn’t want to come too soon. Thought it might be best if I let your temper cool.”
I rubbed my face, shoving away the last tendrils of sleep. Not that my brain was much help at the moment. According to the doctor, I had a fairly severe concussion. He’d put me on anti-inflammatories with strict instructions to rest. He said I couldn’t even think as thinking was an activity.
He obviously didn’t know what running a farm entailed.
But I didn’t need to think to know why Hope avoided me. I also knew I’d been rough with her, dragging her from the hospital and trying to kill her with a single stare.
I owed her another apology, but at the same time, she owed me.
As if she heard my thoughts, she blurted, “I’m so sorry for discussing your father with those busybodies. I shouldn’t have gotten upset, but they were talking about you and saying such silly things that I couldn’t stop myself.” She shrugged shyly. “I thought I was defending you, but I know it could’ve looked like I was meddling.”
Damn.
I never had a chance at staying pissed when a sincere apology was given. Regret glossed her eyes as nervousness that she’d severely upset me etched her face. She might be wearing pyjamas, but she hadn’t been to sleep yet, and the thought of her tossing and turning, worried about my reaction…well, it stole the final threads of my rage and made me sag into the pillows.
“I’m sorry, too.”
She rubbed her arm where I’d grabbed her, smiling softly. “It’s fine.”
Sitting up with a hiss, I reached for her bicep. “Did I hurt you?”
She froze, pulling back a bit. “No, don’t be—”
“I did. I hurt you.” Running a fingertip over the pink and white cotton, I wished her arm was visible to assess how badly I’d screwed up. She winced a little as I put pressure on where my fingers had been.
I’d bruised her.
Shit.
Leaning back, I groaned. I’d done so many things wrong lately. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“It just…it gets to me when I hear people talk about him, you know?”
“I’m the same. When the paparazzi spread lies about my mother’s death, I get super possessive and want to take their cameras and notepads and shove them down their throats.”
I half-smiled. “Violent little creature.”
“When those I love are threatened, yes, definitely.”
My heart stopped beating. “Yet, I’m not someone you love, so why defend me?”
Her cheeks glowed an interesting peach before she dropped her gaze and found my navy blanket fascinating. “Because I have a feeling you’ve had to put up with that sort of nonsense for a while, and I know how draining it can be.”
“This isn’t Hollywood, Hope. I don’t have rumours spread daily about me like you actors do.”
“No, you have it worse.”
I cocked my head. “How do you figure? I don’t see my name on a magazine cover with a made-up scandal just to sell copies. They’re vicious in your world.”
“Yeah, but those close to us—those who truly matter—know it’s all just lies. We know the truth, so we don’t care what others say.” She looked at me, her gaze going far deeper than I wanted. “You, on the other hand, know the people whispering behind your back. A small town should be supportive of its own—not treat you as gossip.”
I feigned disinterest. “Nothing new. Even while my dad was alive, they talked about me.”
“Because they think you’re a product of incest?”
Everything inside me stilled. My voice turned short and sharp. “I just remembered you know far too much about my family thanks to that god-awful movie.”
I expected her to argue, to assure me that she didn’t know everything. Instead, she nodded, her face apologetic. “You’re right. I do know more than I should.”
Our eyes tangled together.
That awful pressure in my chest returned, whispering lies that I could handle one touch, one kiss, one dose of connection.
Tearing my attention away, I cleared my throat. “Yeah, well, I don’t like it.”
“I know.” She shrugged. “Not much I can do about it, though.”
The sadness in her tone irritated me. I didn’t have the patience to deal with her or myself tonight. “Look, I need to rest.”
“What did the doctor say about your injuries?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
She laughed under her breath. “Yeah, right.”
“Don’t push me, Hope. It’s late. I’m tired. Go back to my mother’s house.”
She fell silent, her gaze dancing around my bedroom. I waited for the questions of why I slept in a glass box, but she nibbled on her bottom lip. “You moved up here so young. Della still really misses you, you know.”
My hands curled in quickly building anger. “Don’t try to guilt me for moving out like any kid does.”
She locked eyes with me, a direct challenge. “If you didn’t already feel guilty, there’s no way I could make you suffer it.”
Another wave of blistering heat crested through me. Goddammit, she drove me crazy. I wanted to curse and kiss her, all at once.
This damn girl.
This aggravating, irritating, troublesome girl. “Once again, you’ve successfully annoyed me to the point of insanity.”
“Well, if you stopped being so short-tempered, perhaps you wouldn’t find me so annoying.”
“You’re saying I’m the one with the problem?”
She sniffed. “Seems like you’re the one apologising all the time.”
“Only because you’re my guest, and I promised I’d be civil.”
“If this is you being civil, I don’t want to know what you’re like when you’re being rude.”
“Hang around and you’ll find out.”
“Maybe I will.” She crossed her arms, the opinionated girl wrapped up in candy pink and white stripes. “Perhaps I’ll have better luck making you accept my help if I never leave.”
“If you never leave, I might end up doing something we’ll both regret.”
She sucked in a breath.
My tone had betrayed me. It’d thickened with something other than frustration. A hint of lust. A droplet of attraction. It only pissed me off more. “You don’t belong here, Hope. Take the hint and go back to where you came from.”
Her chin came up as if I’d physically struck her. “I belong here more than I belong there.”
“As if that’s true.” I laughed coldly. “You wouldn’t last a day working the land. You think running a farm is just about riding and having picnics in the sun.”
Tears glittered in her eyes but not from sadness. They were pure vexation and temper.
The same cocktail burned in my
chest.
“I know it’s not. I want more than that. I’m bored with being a guest. I want to work.”
I shook my head condescendingly. “You’d last one day.”
“I’d last forever if you gave me a chance.”
Silence slammed down like a velvet curtain around us. Blanketing our stupid argument, pausing our hot rage.
Forever?
She wanted this life—my life—forever?
But…she couldn’t.
She had to go back to the glitz she was born into.
This was my space.
My sanctuary.
I couldn’t deal with another person I had to avoid to protect myself. I needed her gone for my survival, not just my peace of mind.
“This isn’t your home, Hope,” I murmured, my voice gentle but tight with warning. “My mother is not your mother. My family is not your family. And my land is not your land. Got it?”
A tear rolled down her cheek, glittering with matching fury in her gaze. “Oh, I get it. You don’t ever let me forget it. But guess what, Jacob Wild. That mother of yours? That family of yours? They’re not yours either because you never accept them as yours. You’re afraid to. You think by staying up here in your lonely cabin, you won’t get hurt when they—”
“Out.” The room spun. My heart hurt. I felt sick. “Get out. Now.”
“Be my pleasure.” Hope shot off my bed, shook her head as if she wanted to continue fighting, then spun around and vanished from my bedroom.
I just wished she’d vanish from my mind as easily.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jacob
* * * * * *
FOUR A.M. AND I couldn’t get back to sleep.
Hope had left a few hours ago, leaving me tormented and tortured. My mind wouldn’t stop replaying our argument, throwing better comebacks I should’ve said, coming up with better warnings I should’ve uttered.
I was doing the opposite of what the doctor suggested with a concussion, but it wasn’t my fault.
It was hers.
How dare she imply she wanted to stay longer than a week or two? How dare she hint that she belonged here more than I did?
Goddammit, she’d stolen any rest I might’ve snatched tonight and made it impossible to stay in bed.
Hauling my aching ass up, I wobbled for a second as the room went black, then grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants from the floor. Bending over to pull them on hurt like a bitch, making me crave more painkillers. I’d do what I did earlier today—yet another thing against doctor’s orders—and chase the pills with a healthy swig of whiskey.
They didn’t work as well without the extra help from medicinal liquor.
Padding my way down the corridor toward my living room and kitchen, I massaged my temples, doing my best to eradicate the constant headache. A headache made worse by Hope’s unwanted midnight visit.
I didn’t bother turning on any lights thanks to the moonshine coming through the skylight. Dawn wasn’t that far away, and typically, I’d be sleeping until five a.m. when the lightening sky would nudge me to begin a new day.
That wouldn’t be happening today.
As much as I wanted to—craved to—I wouldn’t be able to lug heavy farm parts or lumber around on a cranky tractor.
How much longer could I hide my pain from my mother? The fields needed tending, and the many chores needed completing.
Mom knew me as a workaholic. I didn’t even take afternoons off.
Three days in a row was bound to shove her headfirst from suspicions into hysteria.
The kitchen tiles were cold on my feet as I passed the spot where Hope had found me passed out and headed to the pantry. There, I found the bottle of whiskey that I’d bought a few months ago. The town might gossip about me but there were a few people on my side.
One of those people being the elderly, almost blind Mr. Dunback who ran the local bottle shop.
Even when I wasn’t legal drinking age, he went along as I handed him cash and kindly wrapped up the amber goodness in a brown paper bag.
It wasn’t like I drank to get drunk or to run from my life in a haze of alcohol. I drank because I liked the taste, and it was something of my own. Something no one else knew I indulged in now and again.
Pulling a glass from the cupboard, I splashed a healthy amount of whiskey into it, then opened the box of drugs prescribed by the doctor. Popping two out, doing my best not to take four like usual, I placed them on my tongue and swigged them back with a large mouthful of searing, spicy liquor.
I gasped, blinking away the sudden eye water and taking another sip for good measure.
“Oh, my God. Are you drinking?” A blur of movement dashed from the couch toward me.
My heart rate exploded, once again on high alert for a serial killer there to murder me.
But no.
It was just Hope.
Goddamn Hope who didn’t get the clue that she was not welcome.
Clutching my half-empty glass, I growled. “I thought I told you to leave.”
“And I told you I came to check on you.”
“Yeah, by waking me up and arguing with me. I’m pretty sure you established I was coherent enough to hold a conversation.”
She crossed her arms, her cheek showing indents of the lacy cushion Mom had thrown on my bare couch as homey decoration.
Wait, did she nap on my couch?
“I found you passed out yesterday morning. Did you honestly think I’d be able to sleep not knowing if the same would happen today?”
My toes dug into the tiles as my body tensed. “You took me to the hospital, remember? Against my wishes, I might add. I’m fine.”
She leaned forward, trying to snatch my whiskey. “Obviously, you’re not fine if you’re drinking.” Her prim sniff made annoyed amusement gather.
“My home. My rules.” I smirked. “Get over it or, better yet, leave.”
“I’m sure drinking is against the doctor’s orders.”
I groaned under my breath. “I’m not going to do this again.” I didn’t have the energy for another war. “You’ve seen that I’m still standing. You know where the door is. Goodbye.” Raising the glass to my lips, I barely earned a sip before she snatched it from my hold and tossed the entire thing into the sink.
The glass shattered. The whiskey spilled. I stood there gobsmacked.
Silence once again thickened as I gawked at the mess, then back at her. “I can’t decide if you’re deliberately trying to drive me insane or if it’s just a by-product of whatever spoiled world you’ve grown up in.” My voice vibrated with temper. “Just because you’re used to getting your own way all the time doesn’t mean you can manipulate, guilt, and berate me into doing things—”
“Shut up, Jacob.” She held up her hand, her patience as frayed as mine. “Just, please…shut up. I don’t want to keep fighting with you. I don’t want to argue. I’m just worried about you, and since you’ve sworn me to secrecy, it’s on me to take care of you.”
“It’s not on you at all. Did I ask you to play nursemaid?”
“That’s the thing.” Her face softened. “You don’t have to ask.”
“And you don’t get it. I didn’t ask because I don’t need someone lurking over me.”
“I’m not lurking.”
“Oh, you’re definitely lurking.” Grabbing some paper towels from under the sink, I scooped up the glass shards and tossed the mess into the trash. “I’m tired, Hope. I’m in pain. I agree that I don’t want to fight, so please, just leave me alone.”
Her shoulders fell as darkness gathered her close. If it hadn’t been for the stray stars picking up strands of copper and chocolate from her hair, it would’ve almost disappeared into the night. “If that’s truly what you want, I’ll go.”
“Great.” I perked up, the promise of a Hope free morning allowing me to be generous. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
She licked her lips. “I’ll go, but first, I need to ask two questions.”
<
br /> “Oh, for God’s sake.” I stiffened, already sensing that this eviction would take longer than I planned. “What part of—”
“I didn’t say it would take long. They’re short. I promise.”
“If they’re short, then they’re not important and can wait.”
“They’re important. And if you answer them” —her eyes narrowed to a green glare— “politely and calmly, I’ll tell you what your grandfather told me in the car ride back home. Unless you forgot you drove off without me, leaving me like some unwanted stray. I had to depend on the kindness of an old man who pities me just because I attempt to talk to you.”
I didn’t rise to her bait or let the fact that Grandpa John liked Hope enough to pity her entice me into another battle. Instead, I claimed a fresh glass, looked her dead in the eyes as I poured a generous splash of whiskey, then carried my drink to the dining room table.
I sat stiffly, cursing my shirtless back as the cold wood of the chair hurt my spine and dared, just dared, Hope to take my second drink away.
Her gaze never left my glass as I held it to my lips and drank deeply.
She sighed, moving toward me and sagging in the opposite chair.
I expected her to scold me again for my choice of hydration, but she merely whispered as if afraid of my answer, “What did the doctor say is wrong with you? Is…is it fixable?”
Taking another sip, mainly to vex her as well as keep the fiery taste on my tongue, I replied, “Of course, it’s fixable.”
“So, you haven’t broken your back?”
“What? That’s crazy. Would I be walking if I had?”
She nodded. “I’ve been Googling your symptoms. A lot of sites say you can still walk with a fractured back. If you have pins and needles and trouble peeing, then it’s a possibility.”
“I’m not discussing if I’m having peeing issues with you.”
“But are you?”
“Holy hell, no. Okay?”
She flinched. “Okay, then. So…what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
I looked at the ceiling for strength. “The X-rays and MRI indicate I have swelling in a couple of discs in my spine, which are pressing on my nerves. And a concussion. That’s all.”
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