“There’s that word again.”
“What, friend?”
I brushed my nose against hers. “No, accept.”
She nuzzled me, kissing my cheek, working her way to my eyelashes and forehead. The sensation of being kissed so sweetly ripped up my stomach and set fire to the carnage left behind.
“Acceptance is the key to freedom.” She kissed my cheekbone. “It’s a cage of your own making.” A kiss on my earlobe. “I only wish you could see that…if you could, your life wouldn’t be so painful.”
I reared back. “Would it take away the pain of knowing you’ve been with someone else?”
“Excuse me?” She sat bolt upright, shoving me away. “What the hell, Jacob?”
“This isn’t your first time.”
“How on earth do you know that?”
I snorted. “Oh, believe me. I know.”
“It’s none of your business.” Her nose shot up with airs and graces. “None whatsoever.”
“You sure about that? Don’t friends have authority to approve or disapprove potential lovers?”
Rage dotted her cheeks. She laughed coldly. “Wait a minute, let me get this straight. After four years of nothing—no letter, email, phone call, nothing—you think you have the right to tell me who I can or cannot date?”
“Are you dating him now?” I sat on my knees, vibrating with anger. “Are you with someone else while you’re here with me?”
“Wow, you have some nerve, Jacob Wild.” She pushed storm-curled hair from her eyes. “Do you think that low of me? That I would sleep with you while with someone else? That I’d cheat?”
My heart slammed against a brick wall. “I don’t know. You might’ve changed a lot in four years.”
“Yet you haven’t changed at all!”
Her yell pounded against the war drum of my heart. Regret squashed me, but I had to know—had to keep digging at my pain. I deliberately used my fears to push her away. To halt this raw and vulnerable connection between us.
I thought I was done pushing her away—at least for the night. I believed my lust was stronger than my terror.
Turned out, it was just waiting.
Waiting for the perfect moment to make me suffer and her despise me. I wished I could take it back. I wanted to touch her again. But the sickness inside lowered my head and grunted, “Just answer me, Hope.”
“Answer what?”
“Are you or are you not with someone?”
“I can’t believe this. No, I will not answer you!” Huffing with disbelief, she sprang off the bed. “Forget it. I’m leaving. I feared this was a mistake, and it is.” Smoothing down her dress, she spun to face me. “Why couldn’t you just let whatever was about to happen, happen, huh? Why couldn’t you be brave enough to let love guide you for once, instead of fighting it all the time?” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “And why do I keep falling for it? Why do I think I can be strong enough for both of us? That one day, I’ll be able to fix you?”
I tried to ignore the question. If I hadn’t smoked weed and mellowed certain triggers, I wouldn’t be able to reply.
But I had smoked. And I had to reply. Because I was in the wrong, just like always. “You keep trying because you know the truth.”
“What truth?”
“The truth that if anyone can fix me…it’s you.”
“Ugh!” She hugged herself tight. “You can’t say things like that. It sends mixed signals.”
“I’m not sending anything. I’m trying to understand.”
Trying to understand how to stop being like this.
“Understand what?”
“Why I feel this way about you when it fucking petrifies me. Why I’m furious that you’ve been with someone else when I know it’s my fault. Why I can’t seem to forget about you. Why I have dreams about you. Why, after all this time, I wish you could fix me so I didn’t have to keep hurting you or myself.”
She stood there, shaking, her dress dancing around her legs. We stared for a few quick breaths, trapped in honesty.
Finally, she stepped toward the bed. Her voice caught with a fresh spill of tears. “You want an answer? Fine. I was with someone. I was with him when I stepped on the plane to find you. I was with him when I saw you on the beach. I’ve been with him for over a year.”
My entire body locked down. My hands curled into fists. “Were you with him when you kissed me?”
She shrugged dejectedly. “No.”
I studied her, read her tears, heard her sorrow, and knew.
My shoulders slouched. “The phone call. That was who was more important than staying dry.”
“Yes.”
“You broke up with him?”
“Yes.”
My voice thickened. “Why?”
Her gaze was too intense, too consuming. “You know why.”
My entire body trembled as I climbed off the bed. The sandy floor stuck to my feet as I stepped toward her.
Her gaze dropped to my tented shorts, then glided over my chest to find my eyes.
She looked so sad it broke my heart.