I was a message bearer, that was all.
My bloodthirsty desire to hurt him as much as he hurt me vanished, and I looked at the sky, letting fat raindrops wash away my stupidity. “I-I didn’t mean to say that. I…ugh—” I pressed fingers into my eyes, trying to be an adult and not some heartbroken fool. “I didn’t come to discuss the past. I’m sorry.”
He crossed his arms, our battle still tainting him.
I braced myself for another argument, but he slowly nodded. A sad smirk played on his lips. “Only a few minutes together and we’re already back to fighting and apologising.”
I laughed morosely. “Suppose that happens when you don’t know how to act around the other person.”
“You don’t know how to act around me?”
My eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? I’ve never known. You terrify me.”
He cocked his head, droplets kissing the cheeks I wanted to, rainwater licking the throat I never would. “That’s a lie. You were never scared of me.”
“You never truly saw me if you think that.”
His forehead furrowed. His lips parted to say something, but he stopped and shook his head. “Come on.” He broke into a walk, spine straight and face tilted against the storm. He didn’t hunch away from it. Didn’t flinch against the hailstones of moisture. “Let’s continue this where it’s safer.”
Lightning flashed, casting us in dangerous voltage. Another boom of thunder hurt my ears as I fell into step with him. We didn’t speak again as he led me over the beach toward the huts I’d visited earlier. Walking beneath palm trees and thick foliage, the storm was louder, the leaves percussion and the jungle an orchestra of violence.
Goosebumps leapt over my skin as lightning forked again, sending its crackling light through the trees to the seashell paths we followed.
Huts bunkered down against the rain, keeping their families dry and safe—or as safe as thatched roofs and bamboo walls could.
Jacob didn’t stop until we reached the outskirts of the village. He turned toward a tiny shack that needed a lot of tender loving care. The three steps to the porch had holes to the dirt below, and the door hinges hung at an odd angle.
Using his shoulder to barge the door inward, he waited until I’d stepped inside before closing it and shutting out the elements. Unlike previous houses I’d been in, this one wasn’t weatherproof, and the storm hammered louder, the crackle of lightning seeped through the walls, and the smash of droplets found roof weaknesses, plopping to the floor in triumph.
Leaving me by the door, Jacob strode through the one-bedroom place with a familiarity that came from living here a while. He switched on a solar-powered lantern hanging over a small table with two chairs, lit three candles by a queen-sized bed with just a white sheet to sleep on and black sheet to cover, before coming toward me and clicking a switch by the door.
A weak electrical bulb above us flickered on, intermittent with the raindrops above.
“Not sure how long we’ll have power.” Padding away, his sandy feet left a trail as he entered the small bathroom at the back of the room and returned with two towels. Threadbare and faded, he tossed one to me before using the other to attack his wet hair.
I tried to keep my eyes on the floor as I wiped rain off my arms and soaked up what I could from my dress, but Jacob was too much to ignore. His motions too swift and sharp not to command my full attention.
The way he scrubbed his hair until the salt-bleached strands tangled and tousled almost to his shoulders. The way he wiped his chest and arms with focused purpose but only made my heart race to touch.
“You done?” His voice made me jump.
“What?”
“With the towel.” He pointed at it scrunched in my hands.
“Oh.” I held it up. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Welcome.” With a stern look, he took it and deposited both in the bathroom. Heading toward a suitcase tucked in the corner with clothes folded neatly inside, he selected a white T-shirt and pulled it on.
My tummy clenched. I missed seeing his naked chest, but the white made his tan skin pop even more, and the fairness of his head became almost at odds with the depths of his eyes.
Dark eyes from his father.
Light hair from his mother.
Fight and fury from loneliness.
“Do you want some clothes?” Finally, his gaze drifted over my body. The translucent calico didn’t hide a thing, and the urge to cup my breasts and wedge arms against my lower belly was out of propriety for Michael.
I’d already been a terrible person to him.
I wouldn’t make my sins worse by showing off a body that by rights belonged to him—even though I burned for Jacob to stare.
But I didn’t move because I didn’t want to seem weak. “I’m not cold. This will dry quickly.”
His jaw clenched as his eyes traced the shadow of my belly and down my legs to my feet. “Sure.” Turning away, he wiped his jaw with a slightly shaky hand.
Another boom of thunder made me jump.
For so long, I’d wanted to be close to Jacob.
But now that I was, I didn’t know how to relax.
All I could think about was how inappropriate this was. How being alone in a cabin in the middle of a storm with a boy I’d never forgotten was the exact opposite of being a good girlfriend.
And I couldn’t leave.
Not yet.
I had an entire night in this tiny hut with him.
God, it was a fantasy turned nightmare.
My conscience condemned me, and I moved to the small table, fumbling with my bag that I hoped was waterproof enough to protect the one asset that connected me to the outside world.
I turned on my phone that I’d scooped from the sand. Granules and raindrops turned it into a mess.
But it still worked.
And my heart sank. Guilt filled up the space left behind, drowning me.
Three missed calls from Michael.
God.
“You okay?” Jacob asked, moving to sit on the bed. The sight of him on a mattress scrambled up my insides, adding more shame to my disgrace.
I can’t do this.
Squinting at the top corner of my phone, I sighed in relief at the two bars of reception. I didn’t know how the local infrastructure worked where electricity and phone reception existed on a remote beach, but I was incredibly grateful.
“I-I’m just going outside for a sec.”
“What?” His tone wrenched my eyes up. “It’s pissing down outside.”
“I know, but there’s something I need to do.”
“Something more important than staying away from a potential lightning strike?”
I smiled sadly. “Yes.”
If I didn’t make this phone call, I deserved to be struck by lightning.
He shrugged, sitting on his bed with sprawled legs and a perfection I’d never get over. “Fine. Don’t leave the deck. I have no intention of walking in the rain to find you if you get lost.”
I nodded. “Noted.” Clutching my phone, I looked at Jacob.
Truly looked at him.
I drank in the barriers, the fears, the anger.
I knew him perhaps better than anyone alive today, yet we’d only ever kissed twice.
He’d successfully ruined me for anyone else just by being my friend.
And if I could be this in love with him, this heartsick over him, I wasn’t being fair to such a nice guy like Michael.
I was being my mother.
Ungrateful for everything I had, only wanting what I couldn’t, ruining lives with my greed.
I’d made an oath never to be like that…yet there I was, coveting something that wasn’t mine.
This phone call wasn’t about Jacob. Or me. Or even Michael.
It was about doing the right thing.
Because that was all that was left.
“I’ll be back in a moment.” Turning around, I struggled with the door and stepped into the raging rainfall.<
br />
Jacob didn’t speak as I closed the door and prepared to break up with my boyfriend.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Jacob
* * * * * *
THE MOMENT THE door closed behind her, I attacked my bedside cabinet.
Wrenching open the top drawer, I grabbed the local mixture of weed laced with some other ingredients and snatched the pipe I’d bought last time I was in town.
Doing what I’d been taught by Kadek, I opened the bag containing the drug, pinched some, and pushed it tight into the pipe.
Hope’s voice threaded with thunder and raindrops as whatever call she’d made connected. If I wasn’t so shaken by her visit—if I wasn’t hanging on by a fucking thread with how gorgeous she was, how her wet dress showed me things I’d wanted forever, and revealed just how much I’d missed her—I’d stand by the door and eavesdrop.
But I couldn’t.
I needed help.
And tonight, I didn’t have a whiskey bottle.
Tonight, I had a pipe and a concoction guaranteed to take away my desire, calm my need, and remind me why I could never have Hope in all the ways I’d dreamed since sending her away.
Why did she have to tell me she was in love with me that day?
Why did it have to imprint in my infernal memory?
For four long years, my mind had obsessed over two things. One, the way my mother suffocated into death with a rib bone sticking through her lungs. And two, the way Hope cried as I ordered her from my life.
I’d done it out of self-preservation.
And I’d do it again.
Tomorrow, I’d drive her into town with Gede’s car and tell her to get on a plane to return to wherever she came from.
I’d rip out a bleeding heart all because I wasn’t strong enough to handle another person dying on me.
Hope’s cough from four years ago echoed in my ears as I clutched my lighter and held it to the pipe. She’d been sick. She’d deliberately kept that from me knowing my phobia of losing those I loved.
Her lies were almost as bad as her flu.
Wrapping my lips around the intake, I inhaled deep and long.
Hot, heavy smoke filled my lungs, spreading its numbness in seconds.
Hope’s voice broke through the pouring rain, raised and in pain.
My legs bunched to go out there. To fight whatever was hurting her and to kiss away her sorrows.
You can’t.
Remember?
With trembling hands, I inhaled again, dragging the smoke as deep as I could into my lungs.
Normally, I’d take two or three hits and exist in a happy cloud of calmness for the rest of the evening.
Two or three wouldn’t be enough tonight.
Hope was going to sleep here.
With me.
In my bed.
Holy fuck.
My lighter hissed as the weed blazed, delivering another shot of serenity.
How the hell did I stop her affecting me this way? I’d hoped distance would prove what I’d felt for her at Cherry River was just a stupid crush.
But time hadn’t done what I wanted.
It’d thrown Hope in my face, again and again. Dreams of her sleeping beside me, nightmares of her dying, truth and lies of a relationship, a life, a marriage.
My mother had made me promise to wander.
I’d wandered.
I’d travelled through hot countries and cold, Asia and Europe, fascinating and bland. I’d stuck to myself, only spoken if it was unavoidable and been around people only if necessary.
A few girls had asked me out. One had even kissed me as I’d patrolled the streets, seeking peace, when she’d tumbled from a nightclub, tipsy and happy, and planted unwanted affection on my lips.
My body hadn’t reacted. My lust a dead thing in my veins.
And I was grateful because I couldn’t stomach the thought of sleeping with someone—even someone I’d never see again. Their death would not affect me. Their lives weren’t my problem. But I still couldn’t touch them.
So why did I continue to think about Hope?
And why was she goddamn here?
Another inhale, and the jittery panic in my blood slowly drained away. My eyes grew heavy, and I sighed in relief.
Thank God.
As long as the effects stayed in my system, I could handle having Hope in my room. I could be courteous and gentlemanly and treat her with the kindness she deserved, and then I would drive her into town tomorrow morning and never see her again.
No arguments.
No fights.
No kisses.
Nothing that would spike my heart rate, make me beg for a different life, or twist my thoughts into thinking I could love another.
One more hit for good measure.
Flicking my lighter on, I held it to the rapidly dwindling weed just as Hope fell into the room thanks to shoulder-ramming the wonky front door.
She tripped and almost tumbled, catching herself on the handle. Her phone skittered across the floor as her eyes soared to mine and her nose wrinkled at the smell.
For a second, she froze.
She took in the sight of me, pipe in hand, lighter burning, and for the quickest of heartbeats, she understood. But then, hell consumed her, and she bolted across the room, snatched my pipe and tossed it out the door.
She shook her hand where the hot metal had burned her, turning on me with undiluted rage. “What the fuck do you think you are doing!?”
I’d never heard Hope curse.
Not once.
I blinked, grateful of the haze, thankful that the energy she vibrated with didn’t infect me to battle. “Geez, calm down.”
“Calm down? Calm down?” Grabbing my cheeks, she dug fingernails into my flesh. “You’re smoking. Seriously? You’re putting carcinogens into your lungs! What the hell were you thinking, Jacob? Your lungs of all things!” Letting go, she paced in front of me, wild and wet from the rain. “You should protect your lungs at all costs. Your dad…” She choked. “Your dad died of lung issues. Didn’t you think of that before sucking on smoke that can kill you?”
My temper steadily slithered through my buzz. Standing, I pointed a fairly steady finger in her face. “What I do with my lungs are none of your concern.”
“Wrong. They are my concern. They’ve been my concern for eleven years!”
“I don’t follow your logic.” I scowled. “I’m not yours to worry about.”
“You might not be, but it doesn’t stop me from worrying!” She yanked hands through her drenched hair, sadness cloaking her. “What would your mother say? What about your aunt? Your grandfather? If they knew you were smoking after what you all went through with Ren….God, it would crush them.”
That got my attention.
That got my fury boiling enough to shove away my self-induced fog. “My mother is dead, so she has no opinions.”
“But the rest of your fam—”
“Shut up, Hope.”
“I’ve shut up enough around you. I think I should speak. I think I should finally have the guts to say the truth.”
“What truth?”
“The truth that you need to grow the hell up!”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Stop being such a broken little boy.”
Rage pumped my heart; furious blood filled my veins. “Don’t go there, Hope. You won’t like what’ll happen if you do.”
“Well, we have the whole night to entertain ourselves. What else is there to do, huh? Pussy-foot around each other?” She laughed coldly. “You just drugged yourself to avoid spending time with me. To avoid facing whatever it is you don’t want to face.” She came too close, bringing the scent of lemonade mixed with raindrops and the wildness of Cherry River.
Had she been home while I’d been gone?
Had she walked my paddocks and stroked my horses and infiltrated my family behind my back?
“Why are you even here? I didn’t want you here. I didn�
�t ask you to come.”
“No, you’d never ask for something like that.” Her eyes flashed. “You’re Jacob Wild. The loner. The thief of hearts and destroyer of hope.”
“You’re saying I destroyed you?”
“I’m saying you don’t deserve me.”
I sneered, struggling to figure out what I could and couldn’t say. “That’s not news. I’ve known that all along.”
“Wait…you have?”
“Why else do you think I stayed away?”
“Because you’re afraid to love thanks to death.”
“Yeah, but also because you scared me shitless.”
She stopped pacing, her chest rose and fell. The see-through fabric of her dress drove me insane. Despite the weed in my system, my body hardened, reacted, wanted.
“I scared you?” Her head tilted like a bird; an innocent, sweet little bird which was a total lie because she was a master at manipulating me. Pushing me. Shoving me. Breaking me.
“You’ve known that from the beginning.”
“No, I’ve known you barely tolerated me.”
“Barely survived you, you mean.” Shit, the drugs blurred my ability to keep secrets. What I shouldn’t say blended with what I should. I couldn’t distinguish the two.
Her temper simmered a little. “Why are you here, Jacob? Why did you run from your family when they needed you the most?”
My temper bubbled over. “I didn’t run. I kept a promise to my mother. And they didn’t need me. They have each other. They’re not…blood.”
“They’re as much your family as I am.”
“Yet you aren’t my family so what a stupid point to prove.”
“I’m your friend, even when you’re being a jackass.”
“I believe we agreed our friendship ended when I tossed you from Cherry River.”
“You want to talk about that? Yes, let’s talk about that.” She inhaled deep. “Do you know how many nights I cried over you?” She resumed her pacing, our fight picking up heat. “How many times I wrote you letters I couldn’t send? How many times I called numbers that didn’t connect?” She tugged her silver locket as if she wanted to break the chain and throw it at me. “I took this off. I had no choice. For two years, it sulked in a box as I did my best to find where I belonged. But then I thought, screw you. I refused to give you the power to hurt me anymore, so I put it back on.”
The Son & His Hope Page 42