Fighting Jacob

by Shandi Boyes

  Casey was as I remembered: long brown hair, the most striking blue eyes, and a piercing voice that will ring in my ears all night long. I’m still tugging on my ear when I pull into the driveway of my home.

  As I shut down the engine, Noah sprints outside. “Do you ever answer your fucking phone?”

  “I would have if I could hear anything over Casey’s nasally squeal.” I slap him in the chest, noticing how damp his shirt is. He’s drenched head to toe, seconds from coronary failure. “What’s going on?”

  I stop seeking my dad when he says, “Em’s cell keeps ringing out. After the fourth ring out, I went to check on her before I remembered someone took my fucking truck.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she had an early night or something?” I say anything to pacify his worry. After all the loss he has endured, he’s always panicked something bad will happen to Emily. “Maybe you wore her out, and she needs time to recover.”

  I give him a look, one that makes it seem like he’s a stud. It does nothing to ease his agitation. His gaze remains as tormented as ever, his boots kicking up the gravel on the driveway. “I’ll never forgive myself if something bad happens to her, Jake. Just the thought of her being hurt tears me apart.”

  “I know. You don’t have to explain it to me.”

  I feel the same way about Lola. That’s why it kills me knowing she’s back with Callum.

  “If she doesn’t call you first thing in the morning, I’ll drive you to Parkwood myself.” I rib him with my elbow. “In your truck, since I don’t have a car.”

  He finally cracks a smile. “Thanks, Jacob.” He nudges his head to his still-hot motor. “Do I need to fumigate her first?”

  The mirth in his tone furls my lips. “Nah. Not this time.” I band my arm around his shoulders before noogying his head. “But I’ll do my best to mix it up next week.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Lola

  As I head out of Pete’s, my phone vibrates in my skirt pocket. I dig it out as I jump into the driver’s seat of my Jeep. She’s as old and as sassy as me, but she’s mine, so I love her bad points as much as I adore her good ones.

  When I glance down at the screen, my lips quirk. I don’t recognize the number. With my suspicions piqued, I answer the call, curious who is calling me a little after midnight on a Friday night. “Hello?”

  “Lola, it’s Jacob.”

  I yank my phone away from my ear to recheck the number. It's still showing an unrecognized number, but not a thousand years could strip Jacob’s deep timbre from my mind. He must have gotten a new number?

  Just as I push my phone back to my ear, Jacob asks, “Lola...? Are you there?”

  “Yeah, sorry, I’m here.” My high tone exposes my confusion. We haven’t had any contact in months, so why is he reaching out this late on a Friday night?

  Oh.

  “Are you drunk dialing me?”

  His breathy chuckle does wicked things to my insides. “No. It’s Emily.”

  Any playfulness heating my veins vanishes. “Emily? What happened?”

  I jab my keys into the ignition to fire up my Jeep when he replies, “She’s been admitted to Ravenshoe Private.”

  “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  Not worrying about my belt, I dump my phone on my passenger seat, throw my gearstick into reverse, then tear out of Pete’s lot like a maniac. My forty-minute trip to Ravenshoe is a blur. I don’t pay attention to street signage or the music playing on the radio; my focus remains on figuring out why Emily has been admitted to the hospital. We’re not the closest, but that doesn't mean I don't love her, so to say I’m panicked would be an understatement. I’m petrified.

  When I enter the multistory garage at the side of the hospital, I pull into the first available spot. I don’t bother locking up. Making sure Emily is okay is more important than replaceable possessions. I’d give up everything I’ve worked for the past six months if it ensures she’s safe.

  When I dart through the double glass doors of the hospital, I spot Jacob waiting for me at the side. He moves for me as quickly as I race for him. Tears come close to toppling down my cheeks when my arms slinging around his neck coincides with him drawing me into his chest.

  We stay huddled together for what seems like hours before the reason for our reunion smacks into me. “What happened to Emily?”

  It takes Jacob a good thirty or forty seconds to set me down and drop his eyes to mine. “She was roofied at Mavs.”

  My eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. “What? Like a date rape drug... Oh god, please tell me she wasn’t—”

  “She wasn’t,” Jacob interrupts. “Noah got to her before anything bad happened.”

  With distress holding my words hostage, Jacob guides me down the long white hospital corridor with his hand on the small of my back. The putrid scent of disinfectant overtakes his scrumptious aftershave the further we travel. When we reach a room halfway down, he shifts on his feet to face me. “Noah is a bit agitated. Em’s been out for an hour already. He’s not handling it too well.”

  He waits for me to read the concern in his eyes before swinging open the door we’re standing next to. Noah’s eyes pop up when the door creaks. He looks as panicked as I feel. His eyes are the darkest I’ve seen, and a vein in his neck is working overtime.

  After issuing him a hesitant smile, I make my way to Emily’s bedside. Seeing she’s safe firsthand is immensely satisfying, unknotting the rope that’s been strangling my heart the past hour.

  I press my lips to her temple before shifting my focus to Noah. He stiffens when I embrace him like I wish I could Emily, but his tough stance crumbles when I murmur, “She’ll be okay. She’s stronger than anyone realizes.”

  When his chin dips in agreement, I turn my eyes to Jacob. “Who called my mom?”

  Suspicion is rife in my tone. My mom would be here if she knew Emily was admitted, so why isn’t she? She works at this hospital, meaning she would have arrived within seconds of being informed.

  My suspicions are answered in an unfavorable light when Jacob murmurs, “No one.”

  “What! Why?”

  When Jacob requests to have a word in the hall, I glare at him before storming out. I'm peeved as fuck he didn't have the common courtesy to call the mother of the person lying unconscious in a hospital bed. Even if the person is a stranger, morals dictate that you contact their parents before anybody else—even their sister.

  After taking on a strengthened stance, preparing for battle, I lock my narrowed eyes with Jacob. He’s as worked up as me. His face is lined with anger, and his jaw is spasming.

  “Why didn’t you call my mom?”

  “I tried to call your house, but for some reason, my number is blocked. Then when I tried your cell phone, I got the same message.”

  My brows scrunch. What the hell is he talking about? I don’t have his number blocked.

  “That’s why I called you from a payphone.”

  The groove between his brow weakens when I murmur, “I didn’t block your number. I don’t even know how to do that.”

  “Maybe you should ask your boyfriend. I’m sure he’ll show you.”

  My lips form into a snarl, suddenly understanding where his anger is coming from. He heard about my meeting with Callum on Sunday. Although I'm more than happy to remind him he has no right to tell me who I can and cannot see, I've got more urgent matters to handle right now.

  After digging my phone out of my pocket, I raise my index finger, requesting a minute so I can call my mom. She’s panicked when I tell her Emily was roofied, but my assurance that she's safe puts her mind at ease. After advising me she's minutes away, I disconnect our call, then pivot around to face Jacob. I've just dodged one wreck relatively unscathed, so I may as well dive headfirst into another to test my luck.

  “Do you want to deal with this now or later?”

  After a beat, Jacob says, “Now.”

  “Alright, then let’s do this.” Air s
nags in my throat when my eyes stray to the hard chairs lining the corridor. Noah’s bandmates are heading our way, closely followed by Ryan, the detective who took my statement after Jacob was arrested. “Somewhere private.”

  After gathering Jacob’s hand in mine, I guide him away from Emily’s room. He doesn’t utter a syllable as we stride down numerous hallways, through the hospital grounds, and into the parking garage, but his silence breaks the instant we enter my car.

  “After what he did to you, how can you trust him?”

  “I don’t.”

  His ragged breath says more than his words ever will. He's disappointed in me. He's not the only one frustrated. I thought he knew better than to believe the rumors the old biddies in our hometowns bicker about every day.

  “Don’t believe every rumor you hear, Jacob. Sometimes they're nothing but made up stories.”

  “So you weren’t at Mavericks with Callum Sunday afternoon?”

  It’s the fight of my life not to smack his snippy tone into next week, but I manage to hold back—barely. “You already know I was, but instead of asking me why, you’ve reached your own conclusion without any facts to back up your assumption.”

  I hate when my voice quivers at the end. Vicious rumors are nothing new to me. Usually, they roll straight off my back, but defending myself to Jacob isn’t something I thought I’d ever have to do. It hurts more than I care to admit.

  “It’s a bit hard to ask you what’s going on when you have my number blocked.”

  “Did you try to call me?” I bite back with just as much attitude. “Or did you just go out with... What was her name this week?” I tap my finger, pretending I don’t remember the name that stabbed my heart a trillion times earlier this week. “Oh, that’s right—Casey—just to get back at me?”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Jacob

  My heart drops to my stomach when Lola spits out Casey's name, but it does little to leash my anger. Seeing Noah's reaction to Emily being roofied is already wreaking havoc with my emotions, so you can imagine how fucking close to the edge I got when every attempt I made to reach out to Lola was hindered by a blocked number. It's not the first time she's cut me out of her life, but blocking someone's number is the equivalent of unfriending them on Facebook. It's a clear sign you want nothing to do with them. It fucking gutted me knowing she could cut me out so quickly but keep Callum around.

  “We’re not here to talk about who I have or have not... dated—”

  “Dated? Are we still calling it that?” Although Lola is asking a question, she doesn’t wait for me to reply. “It’s funny that we can’t discuss your dates, but you’re more than happy to throw out accusations as to whom I’m supposedly fucking.”

  Anger works up from my gut to my throat. “I don’t give a fuck who you're sleeping with as long as it isn’t Callum!”

  Lola’s glare warns me I’m seconds from being castrated, but it doesn’t weaken my campaign in the slightest. Everything I’m saying should have been said months ago, so now that it’s coming out, nothing will stop it from being articulated.

  “My ass was hauled to jail where I was treated like scum for teaching a low-life piece of shit a lesson about what happens when you put your hands on a lady, and for what, Lola? For you to run back into his arms! He put his fucking hands around your throat. How can you forget that?! I thought you were smart, strong, and brave! Clearly, I’m not the only fucking idiot sitting in this car.”

  Regret hits me like a ton of bricks when tears drop down Lola’s face. She’s quick to wipe them away, but they’re replaced with more before her hands are even halfway across her cheeks.

  “Please don’t cry—”

  “I never asked you to defend me, Jacob! Not once. What you just said is the exact reason I tried to stay away. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I know that.” I drag a shaky hand over my head, finally understanding why Noah caves every time Emily cries. This hurts more than I can explain. I broke an unbreakable woman, and it’s more painful than anything I've experienced. "What if it were Emily?"

  Lola fights with all her might to settle her tears before peering up at me with big, watering eyes. She’s confused, so I try and settle it. “What if it were Emily who was attacked by Callum instead of you? Would you want Noah to stand up for her?”

  She contemplates my question for several heart-thrashing seconds before nodding.

  “Exactly. That’s my point. The way Noah defended Emily tonight was no different than the way I defended you when you were attacked. It’s a natural instinct to protect the people you care about. I’ll never regret standing up for you, Lola. I'm just disappointed I hurt you so much you won't even take my calls anymore."

  “I did that for you.” When her big, salty blobs come close to falling again, her eyes dart to the black sky. “The night I went to the police station to give my statement, I saw you. You were cuffed to the table, and your face was full of torment. All I could think of was that you would have never been in that situation if you hadn’t met me.”

  I gather her hands in mine before silently coercing her eyes to me. When I get them, I say, “I wasn’t worried about going to jail. I was panicked about leaving you.” I wipe away the inky black substance sliding down her face with her tears. “I couldn’t stop wondering who’d be there for you if he attacked you while I was behind bars. The thought of you going through that alone killed me, Lola. That’s why you can’t trust him. He attacked you in broad daylight, so what will he do if he gets you behind closed doors?”

  “I’m not with Callum,” she confesses. “I only agreed to meet him because he said he had vital information about you. That was the first time I’ve seen him since Mavericks.”

  “You’re not with Callum?” I can see the honesty in her eyes, hear it in her words, but I still want confirmation.

  My regular breathing pattern returns when she answers, “No, I'm not." She arches her brow in a way that makes me grateful I’m holding her hands. "Not that I need to answer to you about who I am or am not seeing. You’re not the boss of me, Jacob. I don’t answer to anyone.”

  There she is. The stubborn, hot-headed little temptress I fell head over heels in love with months ago is back full force. The wetness on her cheeks may fool a man into believing she isn’t as strong as the woman she seemed to be when we met, but I’m confident the fire in her eyes will prove them wrong. My girl is strong—she has to be to put up with a man like me.

  “Come here.”

  Lola folds her arms in front of her chest, feigning anger at my request. She shouldn't give up her day job. While staring at my lips, her tongue darts out to moisten hers. She only does that when she is preparing to kiss me. Yes, that's how in-depth I studied her when we were "friends."

  When Lola arches a brow, goading me to make true on the threat in my eyes, I stumble into the danger zone without any fear. “Always so stubborn,” I mumble over her lips before swiping my tongue across them.

  She smiles against my mouth before accepting my kiss. I growl into her mouth; I’ve missed sampling her taste the past six months. Not even the saltiness of the tears clinging to her top lip can simmer the heat crackling between us. She tastes so fucking good, both naughty and nice.

  When she climbs over the parking brake between our seats, my fingers weave through her hair. I hold her mouth hostage as I rock my hips up, ensuring she feels the effect she has on me. I’m hard as a rock, mere seconds from breaking the zipper in my pants.

  Lola is just as turned on. With her skirt riding high on her thighs, the only thing separating my cock from her damp panties are my pants. Although I don’t even see them being an issue too much longer. Lola’s hand is skating down my abs, only stopping when she reaches the pesky fly keeping my erection contained.

  As she slides down my zipper, her needy eyes lift to mine. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

  She has no idea how much I needed to hear that. Four little words and my entire world is righted
again. I've been a bit lost without her the past six months—more than I care to admit. But I’m better now. Better than I was yesterday, but not as good as I’ll be tomorrow, because she makes everything better.

  “I’ve missed you too, baby.”

  Lola yanks back, her hand frozen halfway into my boxers.

  “What?” I’m confused as to why her demeanor shifted so quickly. She’s gone from looking like she’s about to suck my dick until I’m exhausted of cum to biting off my cock so it can never be used again.

  “Don’t call me baby. I’m not a baby, so why call me one?”

  And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the reason I fell for her so fast. She’s so fucking strong, she can knock a guy my size onto his ass with nothing but words.

  I rock my hips upward three times to ease the wrinkle between her brow. “Sorry..." I drag my lips down her cheek and along her jaw before coming to a stop at her ear. "I’ve missed you too, Cock Tease.”

  Her hand finalizes its descent into my pants as she murmurs, “Don’t ever forget it.”

  She slides her thumb over the crest of my cock, gathering the drop of moisture there before swiveling it around my head like her tongue usually does. I pretend the heated breaths hitting my neck as she works my shaft are the pants she makes when my dick is inside her. It’s not hard considering her pumps are at the same frantic speed we go when fucking.

  She lowers her hand to the base before returning it to the tip in fast, quick strokes. While she milks me, I free her gorgeous tits from the buttoned-up Pete's shirt she's wearing. I'm dying to see them again. It's been six months since I've seen a pair as perfect as hers.

  Just as I get her last button undone, our hot and heavy make-out session is interrupted by someone tapping on the foggy glass of Lola’s Jeep. When a security officer shines his flashlight through the condensation no amount of excuses will cover, Lola pulls her hand out of my boxers then plops back into her seat with a giggle.