I paused. I couldn’t exactly drive off with her holding on to my truck. “Let go, Aunt Cassie.”
“Not until I’ve finished.” She looked away, her cheeks pinking. “I know Della most likely had the ‘chat’ with you, but if you ever want a refresher or just want to ask an embarrassing question that isn’t ‘Mom appropriate’ you know you can come to me? Right?”
I shuddered at the thought of asking Aunt Cassie for sex advice. What the hell would she know? She was married with a daughter a few years older than me. I doubted she even kissed Chip these days, let alone got naked with the guy.
“I know this subject is awkward…” Cassie shifted a little uncomfortably. “But sex doesn’t have to mean anything if you’re not looking for an emotional connection. You can just be physical—”
“Stop.” I wiped my mouth with my hand. “Seriously. Please stop.”
“You don’t have to be a monk just because you don’t like getting close to people.”
“Oh, my God. Drop it.”
“You know that, though, right? You know about condoms and—”
“Shit, yes. Okay!” My cheeks turned into an inferno. “I know the mechanics. I’m well equipped, believe me.” My voice lowered, mingling with embarrassment and sorrow. “Dad told me all I need to know.”
“He did?” Her eyes widened. “But you…you would’ve been so young.”
“He said he wished someone would’ve told him that stuff when he was young.”
Her cheeks pinked. “Fair enough. In that case…” She let go of my door. “I love you, Jacob. We all love you. We just want you to be happy.”
Her love was tangible—just like my mom’s, Uncle Chip’s, and Grandpa John’s. I felt it in every stare, smile, and conversation.
The pain in my back relocated to my heart.
“Thanks.” I smiled as much as I was able. “Truly. I still think you’re drunk…but you’re sweet for attempting to have the worst sex talk of my life with me.”
“Welcome.” She laughed and blew me a kiss. “Go find that girl of yours. Get a real kiss—”
“And you just had to ruin it again. Stay off the booze.” I didn’t roll this time. I shot forward, kicking up gravel in my haste.
I glanced in my rear-view mirror.
She laughed harder, blew me another kiss, and continued across the drive to Mom and the rescues.
She said everyone loved me.
And I knew that. Of course, I did.
Yet they’d all kept secrets from me.
Grandpa John was dying.
His impending demise was unforgivable, and the fact that no one told me was equally inexcusable. I might not be as touchy-feely as the rest of my family, but that didn’t mean secrets could be kept from me.
How could Aunt Cassie joke about hooking up with someone when her dad was dying?
I’d lived that particular tragedy myself.
It wasn’t something you could forget—even while they were still alive beside you.
Pressing harder on the gas, I left my aunt and mother behind and headed toward an empty cabin, lonely couch, and desolate existence.
A safe existence.
The only existence I could cope with.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Jacob
* * * * * *
“JACOB. JACOB. JAKE.”
My eyes flew wide, locking onto a darker shadow hovering over me in the night-shrouded room.
Self-preservation kicked in, and I jack-knifed up. Agony lanced down my spine, and thunder exploded in my head. Despite the pins and needles and woozy vision, my hands curled, ready to punch the intruder or run for the rifle I kept for equine catastrophes.
Soft hands touched my fists as I raised them, cursing the quaking in my body. “Hey, it’s just me. Hope. You do remember me, right? The fall didn’t wipe out your short-term memory?”
I groaned, shaking off her touch and inching myself back down to the pillows. “Believe me, if my concussion had wiped out my short-term memory, I’d still know who you are. You’re in my long-term, Hope Jacinta Murphy, and that is not a good thing.”
I deliberately used her full name, reminding her that I was fourteen when she first made an awkward impression on me and seven years definitely didn’t classify as short term.
“That’s true.” She sat down without asking, pressing herself against my thighs wrapped beneath the quilt. My eyes narrowed as she made herself comfortable, encroaching on my personal space, and not having the decency to get off my damn bed.
Her legs came up, sitting cross-legged, her hair loose and sleek over her right shoulder. Stars glittered strong tonight, casting my glass-box bedroom in silvery, shadowy light.
So many things were wrong with this picture. What the hell was she doing in my bedroom? Why did she think we had the sort of relationship where sitting on my bed uninvited was acceptable?
Giving her a glare, I shuffled higher, shoving my pillows behind me, so I sat up too. My spine had something nasty to say about the new position, but there was no way I could lie down with Hope beside me. It made me feel weak, vulnerable, and unwanted heat travelled into places I never intended to use. “What are you doing here?”