Page 97 of Fighting Jacob

Realizing I’ll get more of an idea about our meeting from my surroundings than the man who dragged my backside out of bed at ass-crack o’clock, I follow his fleeting gaze around the modest, yet dated space. There’s a wooden staircase to my right, a small hallway table to my left covered with various pamphlets, and half a dozen doors line the corridor.

When I read the plaque on the first door, my furious gaze snaps to Jacob. “Why the hell are we at the offices of a bunch of counselors? You know what I think about this type of industry.” The way I spit out "industry" leaves no doubt to my anger. I hate therapists—with a passion!

My fury builds when my question is interrupted by a squeamish voice at the end of the hall. “Come on in, Jacob.” Realizing Jacob isn’t alone, the intruder strides down the hall. His approach is so quick, I’m not even halfway out the door before he grips my elbow. “You must be Lola. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

An awkward-looking man with a wonky eye and a lopsided grin thrusts out the hand not gripping my elbow. I accept his greeting, although it’s the fight of my life not to squeeze his hand to the point of death. If it were Jacob’s nuts, I wouldn’t hold back.

“I’d say the pleasure is all mine, but right now, I’m not so sure it is.”

Jacob snickers at my sassy remark. His smile doesn't linger for long. One sideways glance, and he's choking on his spit. He knows I'm planning to kill him, and when I do, it'll be a prolonged and excruciating death.

“Interesting.” The unknown man's eyes tumble when he strives to figure me out by only glancing into my eyes like they’re windows to my soul. "How about we discuss your concerns a little further in my office?"

Don't misconstrue; he's not offering me a free counseling session. He's telling me that's what we're doing. Although I could break away from his hold when he begins to guide me toward his office, I'm too busy working out the many ways I'm going to kill Jacob to put up a protest.

Many options are filtering through my sadistic head, but the same one continues playing on repeat, so I think I'll stick with it. I'll drain the blood out of his body via the vein that feeds his magnificent cock. My torture must occur with us both naked; that way, any time Jacob gets hard, he’ll take another step closer to death.

It’ll teach him what I failed to years ago: being attracted to me never ends well.

Over the next hour, I sit in on Jacob's anger management class. I don't speak a word the entire time. His counselor explained that he requested my presence today because he believes I’m partly to blame for Jacob’s aggression issues. When he said that, I was seconds from implementing my quest for revenge. I would have if Jacob's face wasn't registering as much shock as mine. He was just as numbed by his therapist’s assumption as I was. Doesn’t mean I’ll go lightly on him, though. The instant we exit this building, he’s a dead man walking.

At the end of our session, and after declining the counselor's offer for a private consultation, I storm to my car. I’m so angry, steam is billowing out of my ears.

“Lola!” Not even my long, furious strides stop Jacob from catching up with me. “I didn’t know that was his plan today. He just demanded I bring in my significant other. If I didn’t comply with his request, I wouldn’t have fulfilled my half of our agreement.”

I whip around so fast, my hair slaps my face. “Significant other, Jacob? Since when did a booty call become a significant other?”

His face reddens with anger, but it’s got nothing on the fury boiling in my veins. “You’re not a booty call. Not to me.”

“Then what do you call this?” I motion my hand between us, “A fucked-up friendship?”

“It’s us. It’s the way we are." His eyes plead with me to hear the words he can't speak. When that fails to happen, he spells it out for me. "Why can’t you see it? Why don’t you understand I’d do anything for you because I love you, Lola? I’ll love you even after the sun dies.” He steps closer to me, his eyes bouncing between mine. “I’ll love you even after taking my last breath, and I’ll love you even if you never love me back.”

I freeze, shocked. I’m not just stunned by his declaration of love. I’m surprised my first thought was relief. I shouldn’t be relieved he loves me. I should be angry. This wasn’t the plan. We weren’t supposed to fall in love.

Do I care about him? Yes, I do.

Do I love him? Yes. More than I care to admit.

Will I ever tell him that? No, I won’t.

Why? Because I’m still fuming over the photos I saw of him on Facebook. I opened my heart to the possibility of loving again, and look what happened. It got trampled on all over again.

Jacob glides his finger down my face. His touch is soft, like he’s afraid I’ll vanish. “Say something—anything. I just told you I loved you, so the least you could do is give me some words back. You don’t have to tell me you love me, but I need something, Lola.”

I try to think of a way to explain what I'm feeling without adding to the burden he's already carrying. When seconds shift into minutes without a single idea breaking through the fog in my head, I go down a route I never wanted to travel. “Can I borrow your phone?”

His brows scrunch in confusion, but what he said earlier is true. He’d do anything for me. When he hands me his cell, it asks me for a security code.

“0923.”

My gaze shoots up to Jacob’s. That’s my birthday. I was born on the twenty-third of September. God—this is worse than I realized. He’s just as far gone as me.

Snubbing the crazy thump of my heart, I press the PIN into the phone, then locate his Facebook app. Once I have his feed opened, I scroll to the photos he was tagged in before handing his phone back to him. The longer he stares down at his phone, the wider his eyes become. I can tell when he reaches the last photo because he bites out a curse word before locking his remorse-filled eyes to mine.

He tries to talk, but I beat him to the task. “Now tell me again how much you love me.”

Chapter Forty-Nine

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