Fighting Jacob

by Shandi Boyes

  My throat works hard to swallow when Lola glares at me with steam billowing from her ears. Faster than I can snap my fingers, the vibe in the room goes from playful to me being concerned I’m about to get my dick cut off.

  “What?” Her glare is telling me I’ve fucked up, but I have no clue what I did.

  Lola folds her arms under her perfect tits. "You know what she smells like?"

  “Yeah, but only because it takes an hour to get her smell out of Noah’s room when she leaves.”

  My confession doesn’t alleviate the redness on her face in the slightest. If anything, it increases it. “She visits often, does she?”

  “Well, yeah.” I shrug like she’s not seconds from castrating me. “It’s kind of a requirement of her job… since she’s Noah’s therapist.”

  As quickly as Lola's anger arrived, it fades. "She's Noah's therapist?"

  I jerk up my chin. “The record company brought her in to work with him while he was in the coma. She specializes in that type of rehabilitation. Why, who did you think she was?”

  "No one." She takes a bite as if nothing happened. "She just seems a little... friendly for a hospital worker.”

  “I guess you could say that. We’ve talked a lot the past few weeks.”

  When her eyes slit, reality finally dawns. The woman who’d swear until she was blue in the face that she doesn’t get jealous is jealous.

  It’s about fucking time!

  “You’re jealous.” Excitement jingles on my vocal cords. I’ve been waiting for this day for over two years, so you can be assured I’m going to milk it for all it’s worth.

  “I am not.”

  She snatches up the remote from the coffee table to switch on the TV, wordlessly announcing our conversation is over. I'm not as willing to back down. After snatching the remote out of her hand, I turn the TV back off. “You are so.”

  Her eyes rocket to mine. They’re slit and brimming with anger. “I don’t get jealous, Jacob. Never have. Never will.”

  When she adjusts her position so she's sitting cross-legged, my shirt rides up high on her thigh. I know what she's doing. She's distracting me as only she can. I'm not strong enough to deny her silent pleas for me to forget our conversation, so I tug her onto my lap instead.

  Her not putting up a protest already tells me everything I need to know, but the nervous delivery of her next set of words seals it without a doubt. “I’ve never been jealous before.”

  The last word in her sentence is the final nail in her coffin. “Before” implies back then, not now.

  When she peers up at me with big, confused eyes, it’s the fight of my life not to smile. She looks like a lamb who’s about to be released into a pen of hungry wolves.

  That's shocking because there's only one lamb in this relationship. It isn't Lola.

  Lola and I spend the next two days in our own little cocoon. It’s nice having a normal existence again. I called Emily and Noah a handful of times, but from what I heard, they’re also relishing the privacy. We’re only rejoining the real world today because Lola has to return to work. Once again, her mortgage repayment will be deducted out of her account on the seventh no matter how sexually sated she is.

  After dropping her off at Pete’s for an eight-hour shift, I head to the hospital to visit Noah and Emily. I’m just about to enter his room when a warning sounds over my shoulder. “I’d suggest knocking before entering.”

  When I spin around, I’m met with the smiling face of Rachel. She’s standing at the nurse’s station doing paperwork.

  “I didn’t see you knock once the past two months, so what changed?”

  She grimaces. “Discovering a patient’s inability to walk doesn’t hinder other parts of their body is a great reminder about using your manners.”

  I laugh. "Oh, really? Do tell."

  She slaps my chest before slinging her arms around my neck. “Where have you been? I missed our chats.”

  “I was with Lola, my—” I suddenly stop talking, unsure how to address Lola. She’s always been my girl, but I don’t think I should give her the title of girlfriend without first asking her. I like my nuts where they are, thank you very much.

  “Lola?” Rachel coughs before rearranging the paperwork in front of her. “It doesn’t matter where you were. You’re back now, and that’s all that matters. However, I still wouldn’t recommend entering without knocking.”

  She giggles. It's a nice thing to hear. I wasn't sure I would hear it again after how I reacted to Noah going into cardiac arrest. Once he was stabilized, I went to Rachel’s office to apologize for what I said. She didn’t know we were keeping the baby a secret from Noah, so how was she supposed to know he wasn’t aware?

  During my highly uncomfortable attempt to apologize, Rachel disclosed why she reacted so badly. Only a month before her husband passed away, she suffered a miscarriage. She was sixteen weeks along. She was still grieving the loss of a child when her husband died, so her erratic behavior was easily excusable. Mine wasn’t. I still feel like an ass.

  I guess that’s why I don’t immediately shoot down her offer for an early dinner. Lola won’t leave Pete’s until close, so I’ve got plenty of hours to kill. “Sure. Why not? As long as it isn’t at the hospital cafeteria. I still have nightmares about that place.”

  Rachel laughs, assuming I’m joking. I’m not. “I’ll work something out. See you in a bit?”

  I jerk up my chin before entering Noah’s room, not bothering to knock. If I hadn’t stopped to chat, I’m reasonably sure I’d be washing my eyes out with soap right now. The bathroom lock slipping into place echoes at the same time Noah waggles his brows.

  “Perfect timing.”

  Chuckling, I pace to stand next to his bed. “Two days not enough to get it out of your system?”

  I’m teasing. Lola and I barely got dressed the past forty-eight hours, and I’m still craving another hit. Fuck—I’m hard just thinking about the way she kissed me goodbye in Pete’s lot. She was as reluctant to part as me.

  Noah’s wide eyes stray to the bathroom door. “I’ll never get enough of her.”

  I try to keep things lighthearted. “She’ll come out eventually. It could be two minutes; it could be twenty. That's the beauty of these things we call women. You'll never figure them out."

  When Noah’s gaze flicks to mine, the torment in them hits me for a six. He still believes the nightmares he had in the coma are real. “I swear to you, she was at your side the entire time. She didn’t go anywhere. She’s not going anywhere.”

  “It still feels so real.” He stops when he chokes on his words. He's not the only one getting misty-eyed. I haven't seen him like this since his brothers died. He's truly grieving, except the person he's grieving is alive and well. "I thought I had lost her, Jake." He returns his eyes to the bathroom door. "I thought she was dead."

  “It wasn’t real. It was just a dream.”

  “That’s not what in here is telling me.” He taps his temple with his index finger. “Or here.” He drops his hand to his heart.

  I scratch my brow while stepping closer to him. He was quick to shut down my offer of counseling when Chris killed himself, but maybe Rachel is right: perhaps most of his recovery from here on out should focus on his mental wellbeing instead of physical health.

  Before I can beg him to tell Rachel what’s going on, a door creaking open breaks the silence teeming between us. Noah scrubs his hand down his face before forcing his lips upward. As Emily makes her way across the room, his eyes drift to mine. He doesn’t say anything, but I don’t need words to hear his pleas. He hasn’t told Emily what he told me the morning he woke, and he wants me to keep it a secret. As long as he isn’t asking me to keep secrets from Lola, I’m okay with that. I don’t like it, but I can do it.

  Relief crosses his features when I nod. I don’t know why he’s surprised. I’ll always have his back. I thought he knew that.

  “Hey, Jacob.” Emily curls her tiny arms around my sho
ulders. “Where have you been the past two days?”

  “A real man never kisses and tells.” I waggle my eyebrows. “So you better get yourself a real man. The stories he’s been sharing...” I yank on the collar of my shirt, loving that Lola’s claims that Emily blushes on cue are accurate.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Lola

  As I hobble into the break-room at the back of Pete's, I reflect on the past forty-eight hours. I’m surprised I can walk. I’m probably bowlegged, but it’s more than worth it. Not only did I get rid of all my pent-up sexual frustration, but Jacob and I also talked like we’ve never talked before. Our subjects were diverse, ranging from our favorite foods to who the front runner is in the upcoming election.

  We even discussed what Jacob was planning to do with his life now that Noah is awake. He dropped everything to be at Noah’s side, and he doesn’t have a single regret. I hope Noah realizes how lucky he is. There aren’t many people who can say they have a friend as reliable as Jacob. If you have one, hold on to them for dear life because you may never find another.

  During our many chats, I informed Jacob about Hank’s living situation. He was as blindsided by my revelation as I was when I stumbled upon it. Although Hank featured in a majority of our conversations, we’ve yet to work out how we can help him get back on his feet. We have a few ideas; we just need to solidify them a little more.

  It’s been a great weekend. The only thing that would have made it better was if I hadn’t let my curiosity get the better of me. I wasn’t jealous. I was just curious as to who Rachel is. Jacob hadn’t mentioned her during our lengthy sexting the prior two weeks, so I was somewhat surprised—and perhaps a little peeved—when she kissed him goodbye. That’s not jealousy. It’s just...

  Whatever. It’s not important. Jacob is adamant they’re only friends, so I’ve got nothing to worry about. I just wish the swishing feeling in my stomach would stop every time her name is mentioned. It’s nauseating how twisted up she’s made me, but it’s nothing compared to the somersaults my stomach does when the prospect of a future with Jacob pops into my head.

  I'd be lying if I said the feelings I’ve developed for him aren’t scaring the shit out of me. I’m petrified. I tried not to fall in love with him, but he's just too easy to love. I have no clue where we go from here, but I'm confident I'll enjoy it. If Noah's accident taught me anything, it is to cherish every moment. You're not guaranteed a lifetime. You're not even guaranteed a safe journey, but you could die lonely if you don't realize not everyone is your enemy.

  My sloth-like pace into the break-room slows when a familiar voice trickles through my ears. “An entire weekend without seeing my pretty lady made me worried enough to come and check on her, and what do I find? Her staring into space with a goofy look on her face.”

  When I turn toward the voice, I’m met with Hank’s smiling face. He’s standing at the end of the bar, wearing a thick coat and the grin of a man much younger than his fifty-seven years.

  “Did you miss me?” I saunter toward him, my earlier concerns about a broken pussy a forgotten memory.

  “I wouldn’t necessarily say ‘miss.’ More like I couldn’t figure out why a nagging voice wasn’t yapping in my ear every five minutes. It’s been peaceful.”

  “Peaceful enough you had to track me down?”

  Hank chuckles before holding his hands out in defeat. “I got used to having you around. Kill me.” His expression takes on a serious note. “Where did you disappear to, anyway?”

  I freeze as guilt makes itself known in my gut. I completely forgot to tell him Noah is awake. “Noah woke up Saturday morning.”

  Thankfully Hank is precisely the man you'd expect him to be. “That’s great news. How is he? Are there any side effects?”

  I shake my head. “Not as far as the specialist can tell. It’s as if he woke up from a nap.”

  “That’s one long-ass nap.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, it is.”

  After squeezing my hand, he makes his way to the exit. “Now that I’ve seen you're okay with my own two eyes, I better get a wiggle on.”

  “Can I get you a beer or something first?” I feel incredibly guilty he came all the way to Erkinsvale to check on me, so the least I can do if offer him a drink.

  "Nah, I'm good. I just wanted to make sure you were okay." He takes another three steps before spinning around to face me. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

  Smiling, I nod. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  With a smile as big as mine, he breaks through the back entrance of Pete’s. I check the coast is clear before slipping my phone out of my pocket. Although Noah is now awake, old habits die hard—especially when it comes to this man.

  Me: Hank’s gym tomorrow?

  Jacob’s reply has me making a mental note to sign up for yoga classes.

  Jacob: Are you going to wear those little pink gym shorts you usually work out in?

  My smile competes with the moon.

  Me: Maybe...

  Jacob: Then I’ll be there.

  I do a jig on the spot while my fingers fly over the screen of my phone.

  Me: See you bright and early tomorrow morning.

  Jacob: I look forward to it.

  For the rest of my shift, I smile like the cat who swallowed the canary. It’s been three months since Jacob and I worked out together, and for some stupid reason, I’m looking forward to the pain. I guess it’s the equivalent of bedding a man with a cock as large as Jacob’s. The gain will always exceed the pain.

  When I hop into bed later that night, I’m prepared for another night of tossing and turning, but to my surprise, I instantly fall asleep. It’s a peaceful sleep... until my phone starts hollering.

  “Hello.” The huskiness in my voice has nothing to do with just waking up, and everything to do with being disturbed. I could have slept the day away without an ounce of guilt.

  “Shall I come over and personally wake you?” The sexual innuendo in Jacob’s tone has my pussy pulsating, but I’ve got an hour of vigorous activities to tackle before we can slip back between the sheets.

  When my eyes lock on my alarm clock, I nearly fall over backward. It’s a little after noon. “Fuck!”

  “I was going to suggest we do that after we work out, but if you want me to come there now, I can.”

  “Shut up, Jacob.”

  His deep chuckle sounds down the line.

  “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  I dump my cell on my bed before rummaging through my drawers for the gym shorts Jacob requested last night. I search my drawers, my closet, and my laundry basket before I finally locate them stuffed in the back of my underwear drawer. They’re short enough to be classed as panties, but still, did they have to be in the last place I checked?

  After changing my clothes, I throw on my gym shoes then scurry for the door. I’m halfway out when I catch sight of myself in the mirror in my entryway. I nearly left the house without an ounce of makeup on.

  What the hell is this man doing to me?

  After applying foundation, mascara, eyeliner, and lip gloss at a record-setting pace, I bolt out of my apartment. Twenty minutes later, I saunter into Hank’s gym like I don’t suspect I triggered a speed camera on the way. I’m just praying a speeding ticket is the only fine I get.

  The farther I go into Hank’s Gym, the more confused I become. The usually deserted space is at full capacity. There are boys of all ages using the outdated equipment, and there’s a line for those waiting. If I hadn’t spotted Hank in the middle of the fraying boxing ring, I would have believed I was in the wrong place.

  “About time you showed up.”

  I shift on my feet to face Jacob, who is tying the laces of a boy I’d guess to be no more than five or six. “There you go, Matty. Go tell Rick I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Matty thanks Jacob for his assistance with a toothless grin before charging toward a boy standing ringside. Because I'm struggling to work out wha
t parallel universe I'm in, I don't notice Jacob sneaking up on me until his arms wrap around me and his lips are on my temple. He's not cuddling me how he cuddles Emily. He's hugging me from behind—having my back like he does Noah's.

  “Who are all these boys?”

  “They're from Hopeton House. I’m hoping that teaching them how to fight will show them the discipline needed to be a fighter. Their rough start means they need to know how to protect themselves, but Hank will teach them how to respect the craft so they won't use it unless needed.”

  My heart rate doubles when I scan the room. A handful of the older boys would be mid- to late teens, but the one Jacob was helping is only a baby. It tugs at my heartstrings that he doesn't have a home to live in.

  “Matty is the youngest. He’s five.” Jacobs points to the little boy waiting to box a bag bigger than him. “Then their ages increase until we reach Drake, who’s seventeen.” He gestures his head to a blond boy sparring with Hank in the ring. “And this is Chloe.”

  When his eyes drop, I follow the direction of his gaze. There’s a little girl with gorgeous curly hair peering up at me. “Excuse me.” She tugs on my shorts. “I need to go to the bathroom really bad.”

  My eyes dart to Jacob when she crosses her legs like she’s seconds from bursting. With a cheeky grin and a cocky waggle of his brows, he backs away with his hands held out in front of himself.

  “Jacob!” My eyes soundlessly beg for him to come back. I don’t do kids, especially not ones about to pee on the floor. “Please come back.”

  Chloe tugs on my shorts for the second time. “I’m really busting.”

  Realizing the skirt she’s wearing is most likely the only one she arrived with, I usher her toward the women’s locker rooms. “Quick.”

  When I curl my hand around hers, I send a private prayer to God, praying she’s toilet trained. If she isn't, Jacob will have more than one messy situation to clean this afternoon.