Ungrateful for everything I had, only wanting what I couldn’t, ruining lives with my greed.
I’d made an oath never to be like that…yet there I was, coveting something that wasn’t mine.
This phone call wasn’t about Jacob. Or me. Or even Michael.
It was about doing the right thing.
Because that was all that was left.
“I’ll be back in a moment.” Turning around, I struggled with the door and stepped into the raging rainfall.
Jacob didn’t speak as I closed the door and prepared to break up with my boyfriend.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Jacob
* * * * * *
THE MOMENT THE door closed behind her, I attacked my bedside cabinet.
Wrenching open the top drawer, I grabbed the local mixture of weed laced with some other ingredients and snatched the pipe I’d bought last time I was in town.
Doing what I’d been taught by Kadek, I opened the bag containing the drug, pinched some, and pushed it tight into the pipe.
Hope’s voice threaded with thunder and raindrops as whatever call she’d made connected. If I wasn’t so shaken by her visit—if I wasn’t hanging on by a fucking thread with how gorgeous she was, how her wet dress showed me things I’d wanted forever, and revealed just how much I’d missed her—I’d stand by the door and eavesdrop.
But I couldn’t.
I needed help.
And tonight, I didn’t have a whiskey bottle.
Tonight, I had a pipe and a concoction guaranteed to take away my desire, calm my need, and remind me why I could never have Hope in all the ways I’d dreamed since sending her away.
Why did she have to tell me she was in love with me that day?
Why did it have to imprint in my infernal memory?
For four long years, my mind had obsessed over two things. One, the way my mother suffocated into death with a rib bone sticking through her lungs. And two, the way Hope cried as I ordered her from my life.
I’d done it out of self-preservation.
And I’d do it again.
Tomorrow, I’d drive her into town with Gede’s car and tell her to get on a plane to return to wherever she came from.
I’d rip out a bleeding heart all because I wasn’t strong enough to handle another person dying on me.
Hope’s cough from four years ago echoed in my ears as I clutched my lighter and held it to the pipe. She’d been sick. She’d deliberately kept that from me knowing my phobia of losing those I loved.
Her lies were almost as bad as her flu.
Wrapping my lips around the intake, I inhaled deep and long.
Hot, heavy smoke filled my lungs, spreading its numbness in seconds.
Hope’s voice broke through the pouring rain, raised and in pain.
My legs bunched to go out there. To fight whatever was hurting her and to kiss away her sorrows.
You can’t.
Remember?
With trembling hands, I inhaled again, dragging the smoke as deep as I could into my lungs.
Normally, I’d take two or three hits and exist in a happy cloud of calmness for the rest of the evening.
Two or three wouldn’t be enough tonight.
Hope was going to sleep here.
With me.
In my bed.
Holy fuck.
My lighter hissed as the weed blazed, delivering another shot of serenity.
How the hell did I stop her affecting me this way? I’d hoped distance would prove what I’d felt for her at Cherry River was just a stupid crush.
But time hadn’t done what I wanted.
It’d thrown Hope in my face, again and again. Dreams of her sleeping beside me, nightmares of her dying, truth and lies of a relationship, a life, a marriage.
My mother had made me promise to wander.
I’d wandered.
I’d travelled through hot countries and cold, Asia and Europe, fascinating and bland. I’d stuck to myself, only spoken if it was unavoidable and been around people only if necessary.
A few girls had asked me out. One had even kissed me as I’d patrolled the streets, seeking peace, when she’d tumbled from a nightclub, tipsy and happy, and planted unwanted affection on my lips.
My body hadn’t reacted. My lust a dead thing in my veins.
And I was grateful because I couldn’t stomach the thought of sleeping with someone—even someone I’d never see again. Their death would not affect me. Their lives weren’t my problem. But I still couldn’t touch them.
So why did I continue to think about Hope?
And why was she goddamn here?
Another inhale, and the jittery panic in my blood slowly drained away. My eyes grew heavy, and I sighed in relief.
Thank God.
As long as the effects stayed in my system, I could handle having Hope in my room. I could be courteous and gentlemanly and treat her with the kindness she deserved, and then I would drive her into town tomorrow morning and never see her again.
No arguments.
No fights.
No kisses.
Nothing that would spike my heart rate, make me beg for a different life, or twist my thoughts into thinking I could love another.