Chapter Six
I was naked.
Head bowed.
Chin pressed against my chest...and sobbing like the world was crumbling all around me.
The tears blinded me, but I heard Jacob fly from the bed, the hardwood floor magnifying the power of his stride.
"Baby, what's wrong? What happened?"
His arms were around me, his strength, his presence reminding me that I wasn't alone. Still, I couldn't do anything but sob and clutch him tighter.
It took everything in me to keep it together until I got to the bedroom. I made it. But all the pieces were rattling, teetering, so close to the edge that I knew it wouldn't take much to send me plummeting into guilt and regret. Guilt because I felt responsible; Rachel had snapped, going nuclear because I didn’t do my job. I felt remorse because I'd heeded Megan's advice—and refrained from cutting a bitch.
Jacob unfolded his arms, but his embrace lingered. He skimmed his fingertips up my trembling arms, then glided over the crest of my shoulders. He paused, like he was taking on the weight of my pain. Letting it flow from me into him. Honoring my silence and giving me time to let him in.
But you don't have time. The clock is already ticking. Delaying the inevitable doesn't do anyone any good.
I brought a limp hand to my face, wiping the snot from my nose and blinking through the tears. My eyes were still fixed on the floor. My toes were bright red, painted to match the dress I wore for the dinner last night. The dinner where that woman had stormed back into our lives.
Her name rose like vomit and I practically gagged. "It's Rachel."
His grip tightened and the scratch of pain was immediate and welcome. I'd take pain over the anger that was making it hard to breathe. Hard to do anything other than scream. But he let go and the tension returned when he swept his fingertips across my chin.
He lifted my gaze from the floor. A few moments ago, looking at him had reduced me to tears. Now, it gave me strength. I pushed my curls back and took a breath.
"Jessa called while I was downstairs. Rachel gave an interview." The shock of it, the hurt, the anger, came roaring back to me and a fresh stream of tears sliced down my cheeks. "She said that you two broke up because you asked her to be your sex slave."
I expected those words to claw their way across his face. For him to let out a sound that would somehow carry to wherever Rachel sat, smug and confident that she'd dealt some sort of fatal blow to us. That sound would have her running for cover.
But there was no ruthless battle cry.
No tightening of his angular jaw.
No thunderclap in his pale blue eyes.
He just stood there, unblinking, his fingertips flexed beneath my chin. There wasn't even a tremble like he was fighting some internal war that he was struggling to keep under wraps. My Jacob, with those perfect features chiseled from stone—dark wavy hair that seemed to beckon my fingers to run wild, eyes so intensely blue that they held me captive, lips that were crafted for kissing-was literally stone-like.
I pulled my chin away and took a step back. His arms dropped to his sides, but he still didn't blink. It was good to know that my words didn't send him into a complete state of shock.
"Please don't make me repeat that," I whispered, my throat clenching. "I don't know if I can."
His Adam's apple rolled, a crack in the marble. "I heard you, Leila. Loud and clear." He turned from me, striding toward the window. I got a view of his behind that usually erased all else but gripping it and pulling him deeper inside me. But there was no amount of sex, no amount of passion, no amount of anything that could overpower the helpless feeling that paralyzed me. I didn't even think I had it in me to follow him to the window. To look out at a city filled with people who were either clicking on that headline or would hear about it at the water cooler in the morning.
I watched him, every muscle in his back pulled to breaking point. He crossed his arms and
I was naked.
Head bowed.
Chin pressed against my chest...and sobbing like the world was crumbling all around me.
The tears blinded me, but I heard Jacob fly from the bed, the hardwood floor magnifying the power of his stride.
"Baby, what's wrong? What happened?"
His arms were around me, his strength, his presence reminding me that I wasn't alone. Still, I couldn't do anything but sob and clutch him tighter.
It took everything in me to keep it together until I got to the bedroom. I made it. But all the pieces were rattling, teetering, so close to the edge that I knew it wouldn't take much to send me plummeting into guilt and regret. Guilt because I felt responsible; Rachel had snapped, going nuclear because I didn’t do my job. I felt remorse because I'd heeded Megan's advice—and refrained from cutting a bitch.
Jacob unfolded his arms, but his embrace lingered. He skimmed his fingertips up my trembling arms, then glided over the crest of my shoulders. He paused, like he was taking on the weight of my pain. Letting it flow from me into him. Honoring my silence and giving me time to let him in.
But you don't have time. The clock is already ticking. Delaying the inevitable doesn't do anyone any good.
I brought a limp hand to my face, wiping the snot from my nose and blinking through the tears. My eyes were still fixed on the floor. My toes were bright red, painted to match the dress I wore for the dinner last night. The dinner where that woman had stormed back into our lives.
Her name rose like vomit and I practically gagged. "It's Rachel."
His grip tightened and the scratch of pain was immediate and welcome. I'd take pain over the anger that was making it hard to breathe. Hard to do anything other than scream. But he let go and the tension returned when he swept his fingertips across my chin.
He lifted my gaze from the floor. A few moments ago, looking at him had reduced me to tears. Now, it gave me strength. I pushed my curls back and took a breath.
"Jessa called while I was downstairs. Rachel gave an interview." The shock of it, the hurt, the anger, came roaring back to me and a fresh stream of tears sliced down my cheeks. "She said that you two broke up because you asked her to be your sex slave."
I expected those words to claw their way across his face. For him to let out a sound that would somehow carry to wherever Rachel sat, smug and confident that she'd dealt some sort of fatal blow to us. That sound would have her running for cover.
But there was no ruthless battle cry.
No tightening of his angular jaw.
No thunderclap in his pale blue eyes.
He just stood there, unblinking, his fingertips flexed beneath my chin. There wasn't even a tremble like he was fighting some internal war that he was struggling to keep under wraps. My Jacob, with those perfect features chiseled from stone—dark wavy hair that seemed to beckon my fingers to run wild, eyes so intensely blue that they held me captive, lips that were crafted for kissing-was literally stone-like.
I pulled my chin away and took a step back. His arms dropped to his sides, but he still didn't blink. It was good to know that my words didn't send him into a complete state of shock.
"Please don't make me repeat that," I whispered, my throat clenching. "I don't know if I can."
His Adam's apple rolled, a crack in the marble. "I heard you, Leila. Loud and clear." He turned from me, striding toward the window. I got a view of his behind that usually erased all else but gripping it and pulling him deeper inside me. But there was no amount of sex, no amount of passion, no amount of anything that could overpower the helpless feeling that paralyzed me. I didn't even think I had it in me to follow him to the window. To look out at a city filled with people who were either clicking on that headline or would hear about it at the water cooler in the morning.
I watched him, every muscle in his back pulled to breaking point. He crossed his arms and
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