5. Jacob

CHAPTER FIVE

jacob

I storm out of the hardware store, not even bothering to make the purchases I came for. I need to get out of here. My strides lengthen in my effort to escape the click...click...click of high heels following behind me.

"Jacob, wait."

I spin around to confront my pursuer, clenching and unclenching my fists at my sides, frustration and anger vying to escape.

"How did you even find me, Ashley? Did you track my location on your phone?"

"I might have glanced at it," she admits, "but you wouldn't answer my calls."

"There's a reason for that. I didn't want to talk to you, damn it." I turn again and close the remaining gap between me and my pickup.

"You'll have to talk to me about this eventually," Ashley calls after me as I climb inside and put the truck into gear.

"Don't fucking count on it."

I hit the gas too abruptly, and the truck lurches forward. I swing it around now and unintentionally squeal the tires as I pull out onto the road. I can't be near her. After three years with that woman, even three minutes is three minutes too long.

I make a rolling stop at the intersection while turning off the location on my cellphone, because I don't need this woman following me to my next appointment. I haven't raised my eyes back up to the road when I'm already hitting the gas pedal.

Shit!

My phone goes flying as both of my hands grab hold of the steering wheel, and I slam on the brakes, my balls in my throat. I was too busy looking at my phone to see the woman in front of me step out into the road. My truck skids to a stop, mere feet away from her. If I'd been hauling a trailer, this story would've ended differently.

When she turns and faces my truck, I watch the fear melt off her face as she overtakes me with a Medusa-like power, and I just sit here staring back into those big eyes. Who is this woman, and where did she come from? My mouth goes dry and goosebumps break out on my arms.

I'm not sure how much time passes, but finally, I come to again and remember I was in the middle of fleeing from my ex. The rage is gone, but a nervous anticipation replaces it. Is she going to move out of the way?

I let go of the steering wheel and give the horn a light push. The honk startles her, but she promptly recovers and smiles at me. She is stunning.

And now she's flipping me the bird.

Okay. I deserve that.

She steps out of the way, and I speed down the road, watching her till she disappears from my mirrors. Shaking the image of her out of my head, I plow down the road, away from town. The last thing I need is another woman on my mind.

The following evening, after several taps on the front door, I make my way over to open it and let Ashley inside. I've been avoiding her for three days now, and unfortunately, she doesn't seem to be getting the hint. Her determination finally wore me down, and I agreed to talk to her.

Ashley saunters through the door with a bottle of wine in one hand and drags the fingertips of her other hand across my chest as she walks by me, a sultry smile on her lips. She's wearing one of those little dresses she always wears...the ones that effortlessly bring every part of me to attention. Without a word, she heads to the kitchen and pulls two wineglasses out of the cupboard as if this is still her kitchen, too. I follow behind her and put one of the glasses away, keeping her from pouring me some of her shitty wine.

Instead, I pull out a lowball glass and pour myself some of the Gentleman Jack on the counter. I know she's annoyed by it, but I don't care. She can drink her wine, and I'll drink my whiskey neat.

Her footsteps follow me into the living room where I sit down on one of the chairs. I lean back and take a sip. Ashley sets the open bottle of wine on the coffee table and sits down on the couch, crossing her long legs. She swirls the glass of wine in her hand as though she's some sort of wine connoisseur. I shouldn't care, but it pisses me the fuck off.

"Why are you back here? We broke up seven months ago, and last I heard, you've been living with him for the last six," I finally ask, breaking the silence.

"I want to be with you, Jacob," Ashley says, scooting forward in her seat and setting her glass of wine down. "I was only staying with him because I had nowhere else to go. He was a friend with a spare bedroom. That's all." Ashley wrings her hands, sitting atop her crossed knees. "We should have never broken up. I promise you it's not what you thought it was." She pauses briefly, waiting for me to tell her I forgive her, no doubt. When I don't, she continues. "You overreacted, and I never got a chance to tell you what actually happened." She stares across the coffee table at me, her round eyes full of regret.

"Ashley, I came home early from my camping trip and found you sending pictures of yourself in skimpy lingerie to another man. What do you mean it's not what I thought it was?" I speak with slow, controlled words.

My anger begins to flair again, and suddenly, it's too warm in here.

"Oh, please. The pictures didn't actually show anything," Ashley says nonchalantly, waving me off and grabbing her glass to take another sip of wine.

"That doesn't make it okay!" I shift forward in my seat, dip my head into my hands, and wipe away the beads of sweat that have formed on my forehead.

"He was just a friend. I was trying to make a special photo album for you for our wedding, and I was getting his opinion on a few pictures. It was totally innocent."

Ashley refills her glass of wine.

"Were you going to put his dick pics in the album, too? Because you should know by now, that's not what gets my motor running."

I dump the rest of the Jack from my glass down my throat and plop the empty glass down too hard on the coffee table. The loud snap of glass meeting wood bursts through the room, startling Ashley momentarily.

"Please. The only penis on my phone belongs to you," Ashley says, sitting up straighter.

"The hell it does!" I stand, unable to sit still any longer, and pace the room. "I've never in my life sent anyone a picture of my dick," I spit out.

"Jacob—"

"How can I trust you anymore?"

"You're just going to have to decide you want to. You have to decide if what we had is important enough to you. If you ever loved me like you claimed, that should be an easy decision."

Ashley leans back in her seat, one arm folded over her middle, the other bent at the elbow, still swirling her glass of wine. I turn to face her.

"I loved you more than anything else in this fucking world. You know that."

Turning away from her again, my fingers link behind my head, and I focus on my breathing. I don't want her here. The tap of Ashley's glass being set on the coffee table signals her change in position, and without any other warning, her arms wrap around me, and her cheek presses into my shoulder.

"Give me the chance to prove myself to you, then. Just one chance. I don't want to lose what we had together."

Ashley kisses my shoulder, then tugs gently at my arm, trying to turn me to her. I shrug her off of me but turn to face her so there's no question about the words I'm about to speak.

"I don't want you here. Get out."

"Jacob, please—" Her hands clasp at her chest.

"I can't do this, Ashley. Even if I could get past what you did, I don't see how I could ever trust you again."

"Just tell me you'll think about it. Please." She steps toward me again but doesn't reach out for me this time.

I can see tears filling her eyes, and despite it all, an avalanche of guilt piles up in my chest. Fuck. This is all her doing. She has caused me so much pain, and yet, a few tears from her leaves me feeling like somehow I'm the bad guy.

"I'll think about it. Now go," I say, running a hand though my hair.

Ashley leaves without a fight, and I collapse on the couch once she's gone. With my head resting back on the cushions, I link my fingers over my eyes and exhale the stress of the evening. I search my memory for the woman I fell in love with, because frankly, I'm having a hard time remembering what I loved about her. People probably thought the want-to-be socialite was out of my league, and I'd be inclined to agree. The only reason she was looking for a job when she applied for the position at my clinic was because her father said she had to be working to have access to her trust fund.

Honestly, I think it was the glitz and glam around her that initially caught my interest. It wasn't about money, though. It was about something new and different. Most of the women in town are girls I've known since before any of us hit puberty. I dated a handful of them over the years, but when Ashley came to town, she was new and exciting. She didn't usually go out on calls with me, but we worked in close quarters at the office. It's not surprising that I would fall in love with the beautiful woman I spent more time with than anyone else.

Maybe I wasn't seeing the real Ashley, but soon, I was mesmerized by her. It was her laugh, and the way she commandeered the attention of every room she walked into, and even the way her nose crinkled up when she smelled manure on me. She was captivating.

In no time, I packaged up my heart, tied a bow around it, and handed it over to her. I didn't care what people were saying. She was my world. She was the woman that would nurture my future children and grow old with me. She was the one that I was going to have it all with.

And then she wasn't.