Page 78 of The Likelihood Of You

“I’ve got time to nail them. I’d rather help you sort this out. I know a guy who deals with that stuff, and it wouldn’t hurt to ask him if he has anything available.” he said, smoothing out my hair.

“Oh, um…” I mulled over the choices in my head, frustrated that saying no was still an option.

I tried to ignore the squirmy little voice in my head that was scolding me for even considering saying yes to his helping hand. Yelling at methat he’d already done so much for me, and now it was up to me, like I’d promised myself all those months ago. I knew it would take time to learn to accept help, without the wave of guilt washing over me and the iron grip of fear in my chest that this would be hurled back in my face somewhere down the line. I knew that better than anyone.

But, oh, how I wished I could forget every lie Hugo had convinced me to worship.

“You don’t have to, honest. I can handle it.” I said, sitting up and laying my back against the headboard like him.

“No, come on, I want to help you. Where’s my laptop?” He asked himself as he escaped from the covers, and began to wander the bedroom.

I hated how familiar the pressure in my chest felt, like a barbed wire rope slowly winding around my heart. The gnawing that felt like a parasite eating away at my insides. I felt like that with Hugo all the time, or whenever we argued about how selfish I was to ask for his help in the first place.

I knew Jacob wasn’t like that. The chances of him reprising Hugo’s role were so unlikely that I was wasting my time worrying about it. But it didn’t matter; my heart had already prepared for battle, almost as if it was a reflex, knowing we’d heard these innocent words before, that we’d been dragged into this trap before.

And there was nothing I could do to stop it from barricading the doors, bolting the windows, and taking all the precautions to protect me.

“No, it’s fine.”You don’t mean that. “I’ve got it covered.”

“Got it!” Jacob called from the end of the bed before climbing on top of the duvet and illuminating the room with the laptop screen.

“Jacob,” I tried to laugh the guilty feeling away, but there was no luck. “I can look for places on my own; you go run those line changes. I can do it myself.” I didn’t mean for my tone to sound as harsh as it did, and I hated the way his smile melted off his face so quickly.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his head bouncing up to me as he tilted the screen down and shifted closer.

“Nothing’s the matter. It’s just, you know, my thing. The bakery is my thing. I don’t want to drag you into it more than you already are—”

“Flo,” He interrupted, his voice all steady and calm, like this conversation was a scene he’d read over a hundred times, and knew the ending by heart. “I want to help you, okay? My Moms made it clear, too.” He reminded me sweetly, his hand reaching for mine, but my fingers hesitated before they locked with his, and I could tell by the way his brows furrowed that he felt it, too. “I promise, baby.”

It wasn’t Jacob’s fault that his promises threw me headfirst into the past, but nothing could stop my mind from spiralling, and replaying the moments that I wished I could just get over.

Don’t think for a second that you need to work for your dreams, he’d whispered.

I can help you, Flo, he'd breathed.

I promise, baby, he'd lied.

I shook my head at him, causing tears to pour down my cheeks that I hadn’t realised had burst over my lash line. When Jacob’s hand stretched for them, I naively backed away.

I hated myself for becoming so anxious. Because this was Jacob, he’d helped me countless times before, and never once had I thought he could be capable of being Hugo. But my mind wasn’t listening,my heart wasn’t either. Perhaps I’d denied these feelings for so long, ignoring the warning signs and instead living in blissful ignorance, that the dam I’d built for them was ready to give way, a wash away the life and potential I had in front of me away for good.

“I think I…I have to get some air.” I barely spoke, my words too full of every emotion I’d suppressed to speak clearly.

His body was flush against mine now, cradling me, holding me, like one subtle movement, and my bones would turn to dust. “Why is this…why are you doing this? What did I do?”

“Nothing, Jacob, please,” I whispered. “I…I can’t do this.” Without thinking, I leapt from the bed, breaking free from his hold, and searching the floor for the clothes I’d abandoned last night.

“What do you mean you can’t do this? Flo, talk to me.” His face contorted, a mask of confusion and worry covering his features, and with each troubled feeling that swept across his face, my heart ached, and the steel walls protecting it threatened to crumble. But I couldn’t stop to snap myself out of whatever had possessed me; my mind was racing, and I was angry with myself for getting so worked up about something that I knew was never going to happen.

“I just need some air.” I slipped on Jacob’s sweater.

“You’re sick, baby, and it’s snowing. You can’t go out there.”

“I’ll survive.”

“You’ve been fine, Flo, what’s changed? Tell me what I can do to help.” He stood up from the bed.

“You haven’t done anything. It’s just that I can’t help but worry about those things.” I pulled on some socks and gathered my hair into a ponytail when I felt Jacob’s hands find their way to mine.

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