“You’ll…let me stay?”
His throat worked as he swallowed. The rage in his gaze faded into worried resignation. “We were friends once. What sort of friend would I be if I made you sleep in this?”
I bit back all the questions I wanted to ask.
Where would I stay?
Would he stay with me or expect me to hide away?
What would he do when he knew why I’d come?
I wanted to accept this truce, but my heart still carried too much pain. My chin rose. I willingly stepped into battle. “You made it pretty clear you didn’t want my friendship the day you threw me out of Cherry River.”
He froze.
Part of me wanted to scramble for cover, to take it back. But the other part wanted to hurt him as successfully as he hurt me.
He hurt me just by breathing.
That couldn’t be normal.
It couldn’t be healthy.
We weren’t good for each other.
We never had been.
His voice was low and untamed as thunder. “You really want to go there? Right now? Standing in this downpour?”
Yes.
No.
I don’t know.
I hugged my sodden dress. “Not one word, Jacob. You just kicked me from your life as if I meant nothing.”
“You made a promise. You didn’t keep it.”
“I promised I’d leave if I didn’t do the work you requested.”
“No, you promised you’d leave if it became too much for me.” He stalked toward me, his height pressing against me like another storm cloud. “It became too much. I asked you to go. You didn’t. What else was I supposed to do?”
I hid my shiver; buried my shakes. “Oh, I don’t know. How about let me be your friend? How about letting me love you at your mother’s funeral?”
His entire body locked down. “Don’t talk about that day.”
“Why? Because it’s too painful? Do you know what else is painful? Not knowing if you’re alive. Not hearing from you in four long years.”
“Whether I was alive or not was none of your concern.”
I wanted to punch him. “Really? You really have the nerve to say that to me? Don’t you remember what I said to you that day? I told you I was in love with you, and you broke my heart.”
“What do you want? An apology? Is that why you came here?”
“I came here to tell you—” I slammed my lips together. No way would I blurt out John’s ill health while we fought. I wouldn’t do that to him.
God, why are we fighting?
This was my fault. I’d thought I could see him again and not bring up the past. It shouldn’t matter that I had unresolved issues. He’d obviously moved on, and it was time to be professional.
I was a message bearer, that was all.
My bloodthirsty desire to hurt him as much as he hurt me vanished, and I looked at the sky, letting fat raindrops wash away my stupidity. “I-I didn’t mean to say that. I…ugh—” I pressed fingers into my eyes, trying to be an adult and not some heartbroken fool. “I didn’t come to discuss the past. I’m sorry.”
He crossed his arms, our battle still tainting him.
I braced myself for another argument, but he slowly nodded. A sad smirk played on his lips. “Only a few minutes together and we’re already back to fighting and apologising.”
I laughed morosely. “Suppose that happens when you don’t know how to act around the other person.”
“You don’t know how to act around me?”
My eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? I’ve never known. You terrify me.”
He cocked his head, droplets kissing the cheeks I wanted to, rainwater licking the throat I never would. “That’s a lie. You were never scared of me.”
“You never truly saw me if you think that.”
His forehead furrowed. His lips parted to say something, but he stopped and shook his head. “Come on.” He broke into a walk, spine straight and face tilted against the storm. He didn’t hunch away from it. Didn’t flinch against the hailstones of moisture. “Let’s continue this where it’s safer.”
Lightning flashed, casting us in dangerous voltage. Another boom of thunder hurt my ears as I fell into step with him. We didn’t speak again as he led me over the beach toward the huts I’d visited earlier. Walking beneath palm trees and thick foliage, the storm was louder, the leaves percussion and the jungle an orchestra of violence.
Goosebumps leapt over my skin as lightning forked again, sending its crackling light through the trees to the seashell paths we followed.
Huts bunkered down against the rain, keeping their families dry and safe—or as safe as thatched roofs and bamboo walls could.
Jacob didn’t stop until we reached the outskirts of the village. He turned toward a tiny shack that needed a lot of tender loving care. The three steps to the porch had holes to the dirt below, and the door hinges hung at an odd angle.
Using his shoulder to barge the door inward, he waited until I’d stepped inside before closing it and shutting out the elements. Unlike previous houses I’d been in, this one wasn’t weatherproof, and the storm hammered louder, the crackle of lightning seeped through the walls, and the smash of droplets found roof weaknesses, plopping to the floor in triumph.