Page 51 of Fighting Jacob

“When my dad arrived at her house uninvited one afternoon, he discovered firsthand the abuse she had endured since she was little. He reacted the same way I did today. He beat my grandad to within an inch of his life.” I smile. I’m not proud of the violence I showed today, but I am proud I stood up for Lola.

"Because my mom didn't want my dad prosecuted, they fled in the darkness of the night and never returned. I've met my dad's parents a handful of times, but I've never met my grandparents on my mom’s side. I don’t think they even know I exist, which suits me just fine.”

“Wow.” Air whistles between Noah's teeth. “I'm not surprised; your dad is a good man. I just hope you're not getting any ideas about running away." He’s joking, but there’s also a touch of worry in his deep tone.

“I don’t see that happening anytime soon.” When he peers down at me with furrowed brows, I add on, “Lola won’t press charges against Callum, much less run away with me.”

She’s also not answering any of my calls, but I keep that snippet of information to myself.

I don’t express my words, but Noah still hears them. “She’ll come around. Eventually.”

He sounds as unsure as I feel.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Lola

“I just want five minutes of your time.” I brace my back on my partially cracked open front door, certain the boot holding open the frail wood doesn’t belong to who I think it does. Why would Curtis turn up now? I haven’t seen him since the day I fled his little brother’s house.

Bile works up from my stomach to my throat when reality dawns: he knows about my connection with Jacob.

His next comment proves my theory without a doubt. "Come on, Lola. Don't make a mountain out of a molehill—again.”

“What happened wasn’t my fault—”

“I didn’t say it was.”

He’s lying. I can’t see his face, but I don’t need to. I heard the untruth in his words. Curtis is a pathological liar, a manipulator, and a person I’d give anything to see the back of—even more so since I’m home alone.

When our standoff lasts another five minutes with no signs of ending, I suck in a deep breath, push off the door, then spin around. Because Curtis' boot is wedged in it, my move away from the door coincides with its opening, revealing him and his brooding six-foot-two frame. He's dressed like the last time I saw him: designer jeans and shirt, but it’s rolled up at the cuffs, exposing the tattoos snaking up his thick biceps. An idiot could accuse him of being handsome if he weren't such an asshole.

I cross my arms in front of my chest to hide the shake of my hands. “Your five minutes has started, so get talking.”

He lurches for me like a child jumping out of the closet to scare a sibling. “Boo!”

He scares the shit out of me—on the inside. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he intimidates me. I’m sick to death of the Parker brothers and their self-entitlement issues. Curtis hated me on sight. And for what? Because I wanted his brother to have a better life than the miserable one they had as children?

“What do you want, Curtis?” My pitch is low and jam-packed with anger. I’m tired and hormonal, and five seconds from slamming my door in his face.

“A little less attitude wouldn’t go astray.”

I curse a million times in my head when his hand moving for my face causes me to flinch. I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. Old habits die hard.

“I won’t hit you.”

Once again, he’s lying. Don’t ask me how I know; I just do.

He brushes my hair away from my neckline so he can drink in my week-old bruises. “I didn’t realize Callum took my taunts so seriously.”

When his hand lowers from my neck, I move my hair back into place, ensuring my bruises are concealed. Long-sleeve shirts, foundation, and the length of my hair mean no one is any wiser about what happened last week at Mavs.

“Now that you have proof of what Callum is capable of, you’re free to leave.”

I unlatch my front door and take a step back, only stopping when Curtis says, “Do you know Callum is addicted to crack? Supposedly he has been for over a year. That means he began using when he was with you.”

I didn’t know, but the change in his personality, his irritability, and isolating us from our friends now makes sense. Callum dabbled in recreational drugs when we first began dating, but that was only occasional ecstasy or sometimes he smoked a joint, and it was only when we went out. It wasn’t everyday use.

“Did you encourage him to take drugs?”

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