My Dad's Bestfriend (Evelyn and Jacob) novel Chapter 211

Evelyn

It was noon when I couldn’t stand the silence any longer. It was suffocating, eating away at me, and I had no idea how to face it. So, I did the only thing I could—opened the damn door and walked out.

Jacob was sitting on the couch, his head lowered, eyes fixed on his hands, clenching them together like they could somehow hold him together. The sound of my footsteps must have pulled him from his haze because his gaze shifted to me, and I saw the tension in his shoulders ease. A quiet sigh escaped his lips.

He didn’t say a word, just stood as I walked toward him, stopping just a breath away. My chest tightened. Tears were threatening to spill, and worse—he could see it. That made it worse, because now I couldn’t hide it. The lump in my throat grew with each passing second.

Before I could say anything, he raised his hands, cupping my face gently. His touch shattered whatever restraint I had left, and my chin trembled, fighting to hold back the flood of tears.

He seemed to feel it, so he slid his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. I buried my face into his chest, my sobs finally breaking free. How stupid was I to cry in his arms? The man who caused this pain was the only one I trusted to heal it. He was the only one who had the power to break me and I knew it because I handed it to him.

“You’re a heartless bastard,” I muttered, gripping his t-shirt like it was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

“I know...” His voice was soft, and he pressed a kiss to my temple, his lips brushing against my skin in gentle, apologetic strokes. His fingers traced soothing circles on my back, the intimacy only deepening the ache inside me.

“I hate you!” I cried, my voice shaking with frustration and hurt.

“I don’t believe that,” he whispered, a trace of disbelief in his voice.

“Asshole!” I choked out. “You fucking asshole. You should believe it!” I punched his chest, but didn’t pull away. I stayed there, nestled under his neck, breathing in his scent, finding comfort even as my heart cracked wide open. “I fucking hate you.”

“Okay, fine,” he sighed, his hands cupping my face gently as he wiped away my tears. His eyes were full of regret, but I didn’t trust it—didn’t trust any promises from him anymore. I doubted there’d be any change in his words if he spoke now—he’d looked perfectly normal in the morning and then he casually broke my heart. Cruel bastard, “Now, tell me,” he said, his fingers gently running through my hair, caressing my cheek with a tenderness that both soothed and stung, “Where do you want to go eat? You haven’t had anything since breakfast.”

“You haven’t eaten either,” I whispered, though I didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“Yeah,” he smiled softly, a flash of warmth in his eyes. “Which is why I want you to pick a place. We’ll have lunch together, and then I’ll take you on a long drive. How does that sound?”

His plan sounded nice, but there was something we couldn’t keep ignoring—there was a conversation waiting, hanging in the air between us, unspoken and unresolved.

“We need to talk,” I finally let out, meeting his eyes. His body stiffened for a moment, but then he exhaled, steadying himself.

“We will,” he said gently, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “But later, baby. Right now, let’s just get out of here.”

I wanted to argue, to force the conversation out into the open, but I couldn’t. Not yet. I didn’t want to break us any further.

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