Page 43 of Fighting Jacob

“In the middle of what?” I steer Lola’s mom's car into the driveway of her family home before tilting to face her. “And this is my fight, Lola. You're my girl.”

New tears drop down her cheeks. “No, I’m not. That’s what no one understands.”

When she throws open her door and hotfoots it down the concrete path, I drag in some calming breaths before taking off after her. Noah watches my trek with concern slashed across his face, but I don’t have time to update him. My conversation with Lola can’t wait. I’m so twisted up in knots, if she doesn’t start giving me some answers, I’m seconds from going on a rampage. I’m not a violent man, but I’m so close to detonation right now, I’m sure it won’t be too much longer before I am.

Chapter Twenty-One

Lola

I feel Jacob’s presence before I see him. His brooding, temperamental persona would be well-received under different circumstances, but since it’s a mere hour after I cried so hard, his shirt still shows the wetness of my tears. I'm so tired and upset, I want to crawl into bed and pretend this day never happened.

I would if I could ignore the pleading look Jacob gives me as he gathers my uninjured hand in his. “Please let me in. Let me help you.”

I try not to nuzzle into his hand when he cups my jaw, but his comfort is impossible for me to deny. I want him to take away the pain, to remind me of who I was before Callum pinned me to the wall by my throat. I want him to look at me like he did only yesterday.

“Please, Lola.”

The pain in his eyes is all the proof needed of why I should never date. I don’t want to be saved. I can take care of myself. I also don’t want to drag him into my complicated life.

But perhaps I should? Then maybe he’ll realize why I’m not the girl for him.

With my heart as locked down as my head, I ask, “Can I get changed first?”

He nods, unsure why I need to change clothes. Clearly, he can’t smell the same disgusting scent my flaring nostrils are sucking in. Callum’s aftershave is embedded in my shirt. That’s why my stomach won’t quit churning. I can taste him in my mouth and smell him on my skin.

Jacob stays glued to my side when I replace my Mavs shirt and sweater with a tank top and a long-sleeve shirt. I dump my offensive clothing into a bin under my desk before sitting on my bed. The mattress squeaks when Jacob fills the spot next to me. His physique is intimidating in general, but as he presents now, it's almost overwhelming. I'm not scared of him; I'm just afraid about what I'm about to do.

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.” Jacob stops nodding when I add, “No, Jacob, I need more than a gesture. I need you to promise.”

A nod won't assure me my family won't find out about what happened to me. It's bad enough Jacob saw me cry, so I refuse to add more witnesses to my disastrous life.

Jacob licks his dry lips before breathing out, “I promise.” His usually smooth timbre is raspy and low.

My lips twitch, but not a syllable escapes them. I’m hesitant to share my story; I’ve never shared it before, and it’s more daunting than I care to admit. Sensing my unease, Jacob curls his hand over mine that’s fisted in my lap. He gives it a gentle squeeze, reminding me that he’s nothing like the other men I’ve dated. I can trust him with my secret. I’m just praying he’ll handle what I’m about to tell him with the respect he’s given me since the night we met.

I clear my throat before I speak words I never want repeated. “I thought my ex was a great guy. His personality was similar to yours. He was cheeky and lovable.” My words start to rattle. “But as the months went on, his personality changed. He began isolating us from our friends and was often withdrawn and moody. His moods...” I shrug as if it will explain how different they were. When it doesn’t, I use words. “They shifted like the tide: beautiful highs and devastating lows.”

While exhaling a deep breath, I pretend I can’t see the veins in Jacob’s neck throbbing. “To start with, he taunted me and called me names. Then one night, he took it further.”

Jacob’s grip on my hand tightens. Not enough to hurt me, but enough to convince me he knows what’s coming next.

“His brother was over. Any time he visited, Callum’s behavior was more erratic than normal.” Like ripping off a Band-Aid, I blurt out my confession in one quick sentence: “I don’t know what made him snap, but it was only once.”

Jacob scrubs his hand along the scruff on his chin, hiding the twinge inflicting his jaw. “What do you mean, he snapped?”

Tears burn my eyes. I've never said the words out loud before because if I don't admit it happened, doesn't that mean it never did?

“Lola—"

“He hit me.”

Butterflies jitter in my stomach when Jacob lurches off my bed to pace. Because my room is so small, he only takes three steps before he turns around and goes back the other way. Although he’s handling my confession better than I expected, his response still reveals why I chose to keep it a secret. He’ll look at me differently now. He won’t see the strong, opinionated Lola he used to know. He’ll forever see a victim.

My eyes float up from my feet when Jacob asks, “Was it him who made you upset today?”

The haunted, shallow look in his eyes makes me want to say no, but my heart forces me to nod instead.

One little bob, and the mask on Jacob’s face switches from sympathetic to furious in an instant. “Where does he live?”

---