I'm just glad that his truck was far enough away from the house that it didn't catch fire as well.
Even though the water from the hose is barely doing a thing to stop the fire, which must have been burning for quite some time, Jacob continues spraying it on the skeleton of his truck like there's still something to save.
My heart aches and then cracks wide open as I watch his head bow, and then he finally drops the hose to the ground in defeat.
Eventually, he angles his head in such a way that I catch the shine lining his eyes before he turns it away again. If my heart was cracked a moment ago, it's now in a million little pieces.
“Jacob,” I say, trying to get his attention. “Talk to me.”
“What do you want me to say, Remi?”
The tone he uses is not friendly, it's not kind, and it has me standing a little straighter.
“I–I don't know.”
He stabs a hand into his hair. “Fuck. This is what my life is like, okay? And like I've said before, you . . . you don't belong in it.”
“Don't say that.” I shake my head back and forth, not wanting to hear it. “We can talk to them or something. Maybe find–”
“No. I'm done, okay. All we did was fuck a bunch of times anyway. It's not like there's anything special going on. You just need to leave.”
His words feel like a slap to the face, and my head rears back as if he did actually slap it, while tears gather and pool along my lower lid. This isn't the Jacob that I've come to know and love. This is an imposter, someone who I don't know.
“That's not true.”
“Please.” The half-laugh, half-scoff he lets out is completely devoid of any emotion whatsoever. “You were the first available pussy. Use that pretty little head of yours to figure out what that means. You were all too willing to put out.”
No.
This whole time that he's been talking, his face has been hidden from me, staring off somewhere past his truck. Right now, I needto see his eyes. I need them to tell me the truth.
They'll tell me that he doesn't really feel that way.
They'll tell me that he's lying.
I reach for his shoulder, wanting him to turn around and face me.
“Jacob, please.”
But all he does is shrug my hand off and take a step away.
“I said fuck off already!”
I take one step back, two steps, unable to accept what he's just said to me and how he's discarding me like I'm nothing.
But he's not turning around and apologizing, begging me to forgive him, telling me that he didn't mean it.
The hurt I feel isn't just limited to my chest. I feel it all over.
“You're an asshole,” I say as the first tear slips free. “And you're going to die all alone.”
I spin around and start back to my home, covering my mouth to try to hold in a sob. But it breaks through anyway when I start thinking of how we went from what happened on the boat . . . to this.
CHAPTER 22
Jacob
I didn't mean it.