Tearing my eyes from hers, I did my best to hide my nerves. “Does your dad know you’re this overbearing?”
“I’m not overbearing.”
“Oh, really?” I chuckled, hollow-voiced and extremely aware of how this visit would tax me. “You’re like a headmistress.”
“And I’m sure you’d know all about being told off by the headmistress.”
“Are you telling me off now?” I used her as a distraction from the living, breathing monster we were about to enter.
“I will if you keep stalling and don’t get out of the car.”
“Not stalling.”
“I say you are.”
“And I say you should quit badgering me before I stop behaving.” Swinging one leg toward the door, I glanced at the hospital behind her. Already, my heart raced with denial.
How could I willingly step into that place of sickness?
Memories of Dad flickered and filled me with dread. It wasn’t often that I went with him for his treatments, but occasionally, I’d keep him company. I’d clutch his hand as we walked down sterile corridors and past rooms full of the terminally ill.
The beeping of machines keeping the unlucky alive. The scent of medicine fighting a losing battle for patients like my dad.
People would be coughing in there.
Loved ones would be crying.
Death would be cloying.
Life could not survive in such a place.
Goddammit.
Air was suddenly hard to come by as my throat closed in panic.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Jacob.” Hope squashed against me, leaning over me in a whip of movement. Her body pressed against mine. Her stomach on my thighs, her breasts on my crotch. Her long hair tumbled over her shoulder, landing in my lap.
“What are you—” My breath vanished. My voice disappeared.
I gulped.
She’d successfully stunned me stupid as her tiny hand found my belt and unclicked the buckle.
Her heat was vibrant and warm and alive.
So, so alive.
She woke up the cold parts of me. She called forth the dormant pieces of me.
She made blood spring into unpermitted places and hunger unfurl at an alarming rate.
She made me feel real. More real than I’d ever felt. More noticed. More wanted. Just more.
My panic attack faded, bowing to fresh fear caused by her proximity.
She’d successfully made me curse something other than that doomed hospital all while we sat in the car park of a mortuary.
Her eyes met mine, her arm still slung over my lap.
My heart crashed and collided with so many new emotions. My fingertips burned to touch her cheek and brush aside that strand of hair all before burying a fist in the rest.
She licked her lips, a hitch in her breath causing my stomach to twist.
But then a wheelchair rolled past with a sick patient and grieving spouse, and the brief absurdity of whatever I felt toward Hope vanished.
The hospital grew bigger.
My panic swelled thicker.
And I remembered why I hated everything Hope stood for.
She was lying to me. She was hurting me more than anyone had in years.
She lied and said the hospital saved people, but really, it severed marriages, separated families, and I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t trust that Hope was young and invincible because death took even those who seemed immortal.
I couldn’t do this.
Rage replaced my hunger. Rage at being forced to recognise that this life of keeping people at arm’s length hurt me just as much as it hurt those who cared for me.
Maybe more.
“Get. Off. Me.” My hiss licked around the truck, sending goosebumps over her forearms. Looking through the windshield, I kept my attention on a crow preening its feathers on a skeletal tree. “Now.”
I struggled to suck in a breath as Hope slowly arched up and removed her touch.
She moved too slowly.
She needed to be gone immediately.
My hand lashed out. I hastened her journey.
I pushed as gently as I could. She still stumbled a little.
“Don’t touch me. Ever.”
Her eyes flashed green fury. “Well, stop making this so difficult.”
Difficult?
She didn’t know the word difficult.
She didn’t have triggers.
She didn’t have broken pieces that had the power to take bravery and turn it into sheer, mindless terror.
Her fury morphed into something else. Something I couldn’t quite recognise. Her head tilted like the finches I fed on my deck, her gaze flying from me to the hospital and back again.
And then, there it was.
The worst thing she could do.
Compassion.
Empathy.
Pity.
I wanted to be sick.
“Oh.” Her shoulders fell as genuine regret smothered her. “I get it now. I’m so, so sorry, Jacob.” She sighed softly, nervousness making her that much more annoying and pretty. She caught my eye, beseeching and kind. “It’s just a building. It’s…it’s okay. I don’t like hospitals either, but it’s just four walls and a roof with doctors inside. They’ll make you better.”
The pain she’d caused my heart was finally stronger than the pain in my back.
She’d granted me a miracle.
A miracle where I no longer felt anything other than panic as I slid from the car, brushed past her, and stalk-shuffled toward the lumbering, disgusting building without a backward glance.