Space existed between us again, rapidly filling with cruel finality.
She knew me better than anyone. She loved me for, Christ’s sake. All it would take was one word. A simple request.
Stay.
Stay here…with me.
But as the swell of soul-deep affection almost brought idiotic tears to my eyes, I knew I could never ask such a thing.
If I did, I would smother her in my need to keep her safe.
I would drive her mad, like I was mad, and together we’d spiral into lunacy.
Goddammit.
I rubbed at my broken heart, glowering in the darkness.
She was the reason I couldn’t sleep. The reason I was a bastard.
Her silent, sleeping form made blood seep from my pores. Her sweet, strong personality made agony thrum down my spine. She wasn’t pushing me or challenging me while she slumbered, and that made it worse. She was softer than she’d ever been, and it gave me far too much silence to be tormented by thoughts.
Around three a.m., the thunderstorm petered out, the rain stopped as if someone turned off a tap, and the jungle hissed and sighed as leaves dried and earth slurped up moisture.
The sudden quietness should’ve drifted me off to sleep.
It only made me more awake.
Anxiety quivered through me. Nerves and concern about how I’d go back to my regular life now that I’d tasted what one could be like with Hope. And terror because as much as I wanted her…I still wasn’t capable of signing my heart over to the agony my parents had suffered.
Marrying into a future that was only happy as long as Hope was alive.
And life was such a fickle, fragile thing.
Keeping my distance from Hope was the only way I could avoid that lifetime of torture. But it also granted a different type of torture.
I didn’t know how I’d survive without her either.
At four a.m., I climbed carefully out of bed, doing my best not to disturb Hope. I needed some fresh air.
I’d sit on the rotten deck and watch the sunrise; perhaps then I’d have a clear answer on what I would do about the mess my heart had become.
Striding away from a sleeping Hope, my foot nudged her phone, still abandoned and forgotten on the floor. I stooped to pick it up, but the screen blared bright with an incoming call, searching for the girl who’d stolen my world.
I scrambled to turn the volume down before the first ring could come through. I wasn’t ready for her to wake up yet. She’d want answers. She’d push me for conversation. I wouldn’t do well being pushed without contemplating my own questions first.
However, a name popped up on her screen.
A name I hadn’t seen in a very long time.
And my thumb swiped to answer, holding the phone to my ear as I cut across the room and opened the wonky door as quietly as I could.
The second I was out of the hut and down the seashell path, I rubbed my face, gathered my courage, and prepared to apologise to someone I hadn’t seen in four very long years.
“Hello, Aunt Cassie.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Hope
* * * * * *
I KNEELED NEXT to Jacob’s suitcase.
He’d left all his belongings…just like he’d left me.
I’d woken with a mixture of happiness and heartache, searched for him in stupidity, and headed to the beach to see if he’d been summoned to work.
Last night had been….
Insane.
Crazy.
Perfect.
I’d tried to say no.
I’d broken up with another boy with the fear of such a thing happening.
I’d given up protecting my heart and threw it into Jacob’s hands the moment he called me his friend.
Couldn’t he see we’d always been more than that?
Friends didn’t desire as deeply as us. Friends didn’t hurt as painfully as us. Friends didn’t fit together as wonderfully as we did last night.
I had smudges of his fingerprints on my arms from his aggression. I had sore lips from his rough kisses and a heart winging with butterflies from his need.
I’d fallen for his imploring eyes and possessive touches. I’d felt so many, many things.
And just like Jacob had known I’d been with someone else, I’d known he hadn’t been with anyone. Just the way he stared at my nakedness told me the truth. His blatant hunger and disbelief that he finally had the courage to be close to me made my belly clench and soul soar. He’d licked and kissed me and given me pleasure before taking his own.
He was the quintessential, well-mannered country boy with a healthy dose of caveman.
The orgasm he’d given me was the best I’d ever had…not because I was his first or his fingers had never been in another woman or his tongue was virgin on my body, but because his tenderness, eagerness, and sheer-minded determination to make it good for me made me tumble even deeper into love.
Every part of my body felt like crying.