My hands curled in quickly building anger. “Don’t try to guilt me for moving out like any kid does.”
She locked eyes with me, a direct challenge. “If you didn’t already feel guilty, there’s no way I could make you suffer it.”
Another wave of blistering heat crested through me. Goddammit, she drove me crazy. I wanted to curse and kiss her, all at once.
This damn girl.
This aggravating, irritating, troublesome girl. “Once again, you’ve successfully annoyed me to the point of insanity.”
“Well, if you stopped being so short-tempered, perhaps you wouldn’t find me so annoying.”
“You’re saying I’m the one with the problem?”
She sniffed. “Seems like you’re the one apologising all the time.”
“Only because you’re my guest, and I promised I’d be civil.”
“If this is you being civil, I don’t want to know what you’re like when you’re being rude.”
“Hang around and you’ll find out.”
“Maybe I will.” She crossed her arms, the opinionated girl wrapped up in candy pink and white stripes. “Perhaps I’ll have better luck making you accept my help if I never leave.”
“If you never leave, I might end up doing something we’ll both regret.”
She sucked in a breath.
My tone had betrayed me. It’d thickened with something other than frustration. A hint of lust. A droplet of attraction. It only pissed me off more. “You don’t belong here, Hope. Take the hint and go back to where you came from.”
Her chin came up as if I’d physically struck her. “I belong here more than I belong there.”
“As if that’s true.” I laughed coldly. “You wouldn’t last a day working the land. You think running a farm is just about riding and having picnics in the sun.”
Tears glittered in her eyes but not from sadness. They were pure vexation and temper.
The same cocktail burned in my chest.
“I know it’s not. I want more than that. I’m bored with being a guest. I want to work.”
I shook my head condescendingly. “You’d last one day.”
“I’d last forever if you gave me a chance.”
Silence slammed down like a velvet curtain around us. Blanketing our stupid argument, pausing our hot rage.
Forever?
She wanted this life—my life—forever?
But…she couldn’t.
She had to go back to the glitz she was born into.
This was my space.
My sanctuary.
I couldn’t deal with another person I had to avoid to protect myself. I needed her gone for my survival, not just my peace of mind.
“This isn’t your home, Hope,” I murmured, my voice gentle but tight with warning. “My mother is not your mother. My family is not your family. And my land is not your land. Got it?”
A tear rolled down her cheek, glittering with matching fury in her gaze. “Oh, I get it. You don’t ever let me forget it. But guess what, Jacob Wild. That mother of yours? That family of yours? They’re not yours either because you never accept them as yours. You’re afraid to. You think by staying up here in your lonely cabin, you won’t get hurt when they—”
“Out.” The room spun. My heart hurt. I felt sick. “Get out. Now.”
“Be my pleasure.” Hope shot off my bed, shook her head as if she wanted to continue fighting, then spun around and vanished from my bedroom.
I just wished she’d vanish from my mind as easily.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jacob
* * * * * *
FOUR A.M. AND I couldn’t get back to sleep.
Hope had left a few hours ago, leaving me tormented and tortured. My mind wouldn’t stop replaying our argument, throwing better comebacks I should’ve said, coming up with better warnings I should’ve uttered.
I was doing the opposite of what the doctor suggested with a concussion, but it wasn’t my fault.
It was hers.
How dare she imply she wanted to stay longer than a week or two? How dare she hint that she belonged here more than I did?
Goddammit, she’d stolen any rest I might’ve snatched tonight and made it impossible to stay in bed.
Hauling my aching ass up, I wobbled for a second as the room went black, then grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants from the floor. Bending over to pull them on hurt like a bitch, making me crave more painkillers. I’d do what I did earlier today—yet another thing against doctor’s orders—and chase the pills with a healthy swig of whiskey.
They didn’t work as well without the extra help from medicinal liquor.
Padding my way down the corridor toward my living room and kitchen, I massaged my temples, doing my best to eradicate the constant headache. A headache made worse by Hope’s unwanted midnight visit.
I didn’t bother turning on any lights thanks to the moonshine coming through the skylight. Dawn wasn’t that far away, and typically, I’d be sleeping until five a.m. when the lightening sky would nudge me to begin a new day.
That wouldn’t be happening today.
As much as I wanted to—craved to—I wouldn’t be able to lug heavy farm parts or lumber around on a cranky tractor.