Page 73 of Fighting Jacob

My heart stops beating when hurt flashes through his eyes. My statement hurt him to hear as much as it pained me to say, but forever stubborn, I won't back down from my hostile stance.

“This is more than fucking, Lola. We’ve always been more than fucking.”

His eyes beg me to agree with his statement, to admit I feel more for him than any other man I’ve ever known, but I can’t. If I do that, one of us will get hurt. He thinks this is me being mean. It’s not. This is me showing mercy.

Tears spring into my eyes when he murmurs, “If I leave, I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.” His blue eyes bounce between mine. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to leave?”

I want to tell him no. I want to beg him to stay, but I won’t. I made promises to myself when I fled Callum’s house covered in bruises. The main one: I’ll never answer to any man ever again. Although some may say this is different, it isn’t to me. Jacob is questioning me. He’s believing gossip instead of seeking answers the right way, and he’s doing it in a hostile, demoralizing way—much like Callum did before he assaulted me. Jacob would never hurt me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t need time to step back and evaluate things.

After several heart-clutching seconds, Jacob whispers, “Goodbye, Lola.”

When he storms out the door, slamming it behind him, I slide down the wall to sit on the ground. Hot, salty tears are threatening to spill down my cheeks, but I fight with all my might to keep them at bay. That would be a lot easier to do if I had just told Jacob the truth about what happened that night.

Flynn is a great guy, but I wanted to strangle him when we left Mavericks only for him to take me to Bronte’s Peak. I hadn’t been back there since the night I met Jacob. The lot was overflowing with cars, which wasn’t surprising since it was a Saturday night.

Flynn and I were about to get “friendly” when my phone rang. When I glanced down at my open handbag, Jacob’s smiling face was lighting up the screen of my phone. I reached for my phone before I remembered he had stood me up, so I let his call go to voicemail.

A few seconds later, my phone dinged with a text. I tried my hardest to keep my focus on Flynn, who was placing a trail of kisses from the band of my midriff top to my jeans, but my curiosity got the better of me. When my eyes flicked down to my phone, I discovered the text was from Jacob. It said he was at Mavericks, waiting for me. I missed him by minutes.

Although Jacob and I had a mutual understanding about our “friendship,” guilt still engulfed me. I was only occupying my time with Flynn because I was angry. Neither Flynn or myself deserved that low level of respect.

I was already having second thoughts, but when Flynn popped open the button of my jeans, exposing the butterfly tattoo on my right hip, I knew in an instant our night was over. Every single time Jacob and I had fooled around, he kissed my butterfly tattoo. He was the first person to do it, and for some stupid reason, I wanted him to be the last.

After demanding that Flynn stop, I confessed I was at Mavericks to meet someone else, and that I only left with him because I was hurt about being stood up. It was the most awkward conversation I’ve ever had in my life, but Flynn handled my honesty better than expected. He acted like a true gentleman by driving me back to Mavericks.

“If it doesn’t work out with that bloke, give me a call. I wouldn’t mind getting to know you a little better,” he told me before he reversed out of the lot and drove away.

When I spotted Jacob’s car in the lot, I did consider going inside to see him, but with the lines of our friendship severely blurred, I went home to think instead. It’s typical, though, isn’t it? The one time I didn’t do anything wrong is the one time I get blamed for it.

I stop reminiscing when I hear my cell phone ringing on the kitchen counter. After scampering off the floor, I dash for it, hoping it is Jacob wanting to apologize for questioning me. Disappointment smacks into me when I see it is a call from Emily.

“Hello.” I hide the disappointment in my tone with a friendly greeting.

“Hey...are you okay?”

I roll my eyes, hating that my efforts were fruitless. “I'm all right, what’s up?”

I’m the one who grows suspicious when Emily takes in several small breaths in a row. She only does that when she’s nervous or about to cry. I find out it’s the former when she rambles, “Noah and I are getting married next weekend. He doesn’t know—it’s a secret. We’re getting married in Vegas. Jacob paid for your flights and accommodations because he knows how badly I want you to be there.”

“Hold on, what?” I ask when she stops to suck in much-needed air.

“I know you think we’re too young, but we don’t agree. I love him, and he loves me, and this is something we want to do, so I want your support.”

She said a similar thing when they announced their engagement the morning after Christmas last year. I nearly had a coronary. She was only eighteen... Well, technically nineteen, but that wasn’t the point. She had plenty of years to figure out what she wanted to do with her life, so she shouldn’t tie herself down so quickly. When I told her that, she shot daggers at me before she stormed into her room. Mom thought I reacted to her news too harshly. I didn’t agree. I was merely looking out for my little sis.

“Why are you rushing this, Em?”

“I love him—”

“It’s not that simple. Life isn’t a fairytale. It’s messy and yuck—”

“And more times than not, the good outweighs the bad. When you love somebody, you love them wholeheartedly. You give yourself to them and only them. Noah is that person for me. I want to share his last name; I want to be the mother of his children, and I want to spend every day of my life loving him how he deserves to be loved. When you know, you know. It’s that simple.”

My chest rises and falls three times as I contemplate what she said. Is love really that simple? Emily and Noah dove into their relationship headfirst, while everyone around them watched with caution, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t discover greatness. Noah loves Emily—I know this beyond the shadow of a doubt—and she loves him, so maybe love is that simple?

With my heart as murky as my stomach, I say nine little words I never thought I’d say: “What time do you need me at the airport?”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

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