Fighting Jacob

by Shandi Boyes

  “What the fuck is that?” My voice shakes with both fear and anger. If that’s what I think it is, someone gripped her so tightly, they bruised her.

  Lola pulls her arm back to her side of the car before yanking down the sweater she’s wearing over her Mavs shirt. It does little to ease my agitation. The bruise is too large to be hidden by the knitted material. It’s there for the world to see—for me to see.

  I raise my eyes to her face. “Is that why you're upset? Because someone hurt you?”

  My surging anger is evident in my voice. I’m not angry at Lola; I’m fucking pissed someone placed their hands on her so roughly, they marked her skin.

  Working my jaw side to side, I struggle to swallow my anger. My endeavors do me no good when Lola whispers, “I don’t want you in the middle of this. It isn’t your fight.”

  “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?”

  I leap from my bed as fast as he did seconds ago. “You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  “I’m not telling anyone; he already knows what he fucking did!”

  His roar has me recoiling, but not enough to stop me from saying, “I don’t need you to defend me; I handled it. It was once, then I fled and never returned. Today was the first time I’ve seen him in months.”

  My knees wobble when I move to stand in front of him. He’ll never hurt me. Just like I know I can convince him I’m not a damsel in need of saving. “Stay with me.”

  I cup his cheeks like he always does mine before seeking his gaze. When I get his sad, tormented eyes, I wordlessly beg him to stay with me, to comfort me, to choose me above anything else. Above anger, above jealousy, above revenge. I want him to stay.

  My pleas seem to be getting through to him when he whispers, “I can’t let him get away with this.”

  He seems torn, like he wants to comfort me, but he feels wrong doing it. I try to settle his uneasiness. “Stay with me, Jacob. I need you.”

  After balancing on my tippy toes, I seal my lips over his. His lips remain hard-lined for barely a second before he parts them to accept my kiss. Warmth blooms across my chest when our tongues duel in a loving embrace. We've never kissed with such open hearts before. It's a kiss unlike any I've ever had, leaving me to wonder just how deeply he’s embedded himself under my skin.

  With my heart now racing more from excitement than fear, I’m disappointed when Jacob inches back. It’s not all bad. The torment his eyes held before we kissed has softened, replaced with the gentle eyes I’m growing to adore more every day.

  As he stares down at me in admiration, he removes t
he blobs of moisture our kiss didn’t dry.

  The sincerity in his eyes has me acting carelessly. “Stay with me.”

  I curl my hand around his before taking a step back, allowing my actions to speak on my behalf. I want him. Now... and possibly forever.

  I’m relieved when he fills the gap I’d placed between us. He doesn’t need to speak for me to know his decision. His eyes reveal everything. He’s choosing me over everything and everyone. He’s staying.

  When he drags his index finger down my cheek and along my jaw, my head lolls to the side. I love when he touches me like this, gently and slowly like he's savoring every inch of me.

  Fisting his shirt, I tug him in the final inch. I need him more than my lungs need oxygen. I want him so bad, I’m not ashamed to admit it. “Please...” I stop myself before I beg. I’m desperate for him, but I’ll never let him know that.

  Mercifully, he doesn’t need to hear my pleas to know of their existence. As his lips follow the journey his finger took, moans purr from my throat like a kitty. He bites and nibbles on my jaw before dragging his stubble down my neck.

  My opposite ear is close to touching my shoulder when he suddenly jackknifes back. “What the fuck?”

  His deep exhale blasts my cheeks with air when he pulls my hair away from my neck. When his eyes return to my face, my throat works hard to swallow. The fury settled behind them is unnerving.

  “He’s fucking dead,” he growls through gritted teeth. “I’m going to kill him!”

  Nothing but the smell of his aftershave is left in his wake when he darts out of my room. I stand in silence for several moments, my mind a jumbled mess of confusion. He went from staring at me lovingly to storming out of my room in under thirty seconds.

  My neck—he was staring at something on my neck.

  With my heart in my throat, I rush to the full-length mirror in my room. I gasp out a sharp breath when I pull my hair back like Jacob did mere seconds ago. My springy locks were concealing the bruises Callum’s fingers made when he choked me. They’re purple and angry—as violent as Jacob’s eyes when he made his threat.

  On quivering legs, I run out of my house to catch up to him. By the time I make it outside, he’s climbing in the passenger seat of Noah’s truck.

  “Jacob, don’t do this. He isn’t worth it!”

  When his gaze shifts to me, my attempt to change his mind is abandoned. He’s too far gone. The loving eyes I was staring at mere minutes ago have been replaced with a pair I no longer recognize.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jacob

  As Noah reverses out of Lola's driveway, I peer into her light brown eyes, praying they'll quell the anger tearing me up inside. I want to stay and offer her comfort, but what kind of man would I be if I stood by and watched the woman I've fallen in love with be attacked and not do anything about it? Callum can't get away with this. I refuse to let him put his hands on my girl and not do anything. He needs to be taught a lesson, and I'm the perfect man to teach him one.

  No longer capable of harboring my anger, I throw my fists into Noah’s dashboard. She doesn’t deserve my beat down, but I need to hit something, and it’s the closest thing, so it will do—for now.

  “What do you want to do, Jake?”

  Noah’s eyes shift from the road to me when I yank my phone out of my pocket. “I’m going to fucking kill him, that’s what I’m going to do.”

  After scrolling to my recent calls list, I hit the number of the last call I received. Maggie answers a few seconds later. “Mavericks, this is—”

  “Where does he live?”

  Maggie knows every local in Ravenshoe, so if anyone knows Callum’s whereabouts, it will be her.

  “Jacob, this isn’t a good idea—”

  “Where does he fucking live?!”

  Noah socks me in the arm, warning me to calm down before adding a stern finger point to his threat. Confident I’ve got things under control, he holds out his hand palm side up, soundlessly requesting my phone. I don’t want to give it to him, but with my anger making me lash out, I hand it to him.

  “Maggie, it’s Noah... No, I haven't talked to him yet... I know... Maggie... I’ll make sure. Bye.” He disconnects the call before tossing my phone back to my side of the cab. “He lives in Hopeton.”

  After checking it’s clear, he executes a U-turn and heads in the opposite direction before his eyes stray to mine. “How much did Lola tell you?”

  “That he assaulted her once, then she ran, and today was the first time she has seen him in months.” My words are ground out through clenched teeth.

  “What about what happened today?”

  My fists ball so firmly, my clipped nails dig into my palm. “She didn’t say, but she has a bruise on her wrist... and her fucking neck.” Anger steam rolls back into me. “The mark on her neck isn’t little. He had to clutch her pretty hard to inflict that much damage.”

  “From what I got out of Maggie, that sounds about right.” Noah tightens his grip on the steering wheel. His anger is just as intense as mine, his blood pressure just as high. “Maggie went to check on Lola when she took longer cleaning the bathrooms than usual. She found Callum pinning her to the wall by her throat.” His breathy chuckle confuses me until he discloses, “Maggie hit him with her baseball bat, then threatened to shoot him if he didn’t leave.”

  I’m glad Maggie protected Lola, but now I feel horrible for swearing at her. I’ll be sure to apologize the instant I’m done dealing with Callum.

  “She’s not one hundred percent convinced, but she thinks he was on something. His eyes were all fucked up.” He waits for a truck to roar past us before locking his eyes with mine. “Be careful, alright?”

  After jerking up my chin, I drop my eyes to my busted knuckles. I haven’t reached Callum yet, and I’m already sporting bruises. I’m not usually an aggressive person, but this isn’t something I can ignore. Callum didn’t hit Lola once; he hurt her twice. I may not have been there to protect her the first time, but I can and will now.

  Around twenty minutes later, Noah pulls his truck to the curb of an old brick house on the outskirts of town. The lawn is unkept, not seeing a lawnmower the past year, and the shutters are hanging off their hinges. It looks more suitable for a horror movie set than a family home.

  I jump out of the passenger door and stride toward the rundown house. Blood is still surging through my veins, my anger not dampening the slightest during our drive. As I take the front three stairs of the porch, Noah pleads, “Don’t kill him; just rough him up a little.”

  I’m about to knock on a broken screen door when a blond-haired, blue-eyed man walks down the litter-filled hallway. His hair is greasy, and his clothes are stained, but if you peel away the mess covering him, I can see how he might attract a girl like Lola. He’s got all the attributes of a bad boy. It’s just a pity women don’t realize the bad boys in romance books don’t rate as highly in real life.

  After opening the screen door separating us, the man props his shoulder on a paint-peeled door. “Aww, isn’t this sweet? She sent her bitch to fight her battles.”

  “Are you Callum?”

  He smirks an arrogant grin. “If I am?”

  “Then I’m about to teach you a lesson on what happens when you put your hands on a woman—my woman.” Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, I drag him to within an inch of my face. “Are you Callum?”

  “Maybe...?”

  His smirk grows so wide, his yellow teeth glisten in the afternoon sun. His pompous attitude has my anger reaching breaking point. The fact he thinks he can assault Lola as if it’s a fucking game causes me to snap.

  Without a thought crossing my mind, I head-butt him right in the nose. He sprawls back, his ass hitting the wooden porch with an almighty thump since his hands are too busy protecting his nose from another hit.

  Sensing my slip in composure, Noah pushes off his truck and heads my way.

  “Wait.” I hold my finger in the air, requesting a minute.


  His eyes reveal his unease, but since I've yet to place a hand on Callum, he maintains his security officer stance halfway down the cracked path.

  Callum exhales a ragged breath when my boot lands in his rib. He coughs up blood as his lungs fight to replenish the air they just lost. Grabbing the scruff of his shirt, I drag him back onto his feet. Because I want him to experience the fear Lola went through, I push him backward until his back splays against the outside wall of his house, then I curl my hand around his throat. I place enough pressure on his neck to make his eyes pop open but not enough to kill him—unfortunately.

  I shouldn’t relish the way his body shakes when it grows panicked he's not getting enough air, but I do. He should be grateful Lola is still on the forefront of my mind, or I’d continue our little game for a few more hours. Alas, my girl needs me more than I need revenge.

  My lips brush Callum’s ear when I warn, “If I ever see you near Lola again, I’ll come back and finish this. Do you understand?”

  He can't nod with how hard I'm gripping his neck, but he manages—somewhat.

  It’s just as hard for me to release him from my hold. I’d rather strangle him until he passes out, but Noah isn’t the only one waiting for me. So is Lola. With that in mind, I let him go, pivot, and leave.

  I freeze halfway down the path when he spits out, “She’ll always come running back for this.” When I turn around, I witness him grabbing his crotch. “She can’t get enough of it.”

  Seeing my anger twisting up from my stomach to my throat, Noah tries to calm me down. “Let it go, Jake. He’s not worth it.”

  He’s right. He isn’t worth it. Besides, the more time I waste dealing with him, the less time I’ll have to comfort Lola.

  I nudge my head to Noah’s truck, signaling it’s time for us to leave. “I’ve wasted enough time on this piece of shit.”