My Dad's Bestfriend (Evelyn and Jacob) novel Chapter 218

Evelyn

I woke up to the sensation of rough fingers tracing slow, featherlight patterns up and down my stomach. The warmth of small, lingering kisses ghosted over my skin, and for a moment, I just lay there, letting myself sink into the tenderness of it.

Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I looked down to find Jacob sprawled across me, his head resting just above my belly, arms wrapped around me in a possessive grip.

It took me a second to realize—he wasn't actually putting any weight on me. He was simply listening.

A soft smile curled my lips as I tangled my fingers into his silky hair, scratching my nails lightly over his scalp. "What are you doing, silly?"

"Isn't it weird that I can't hear anything?" he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful. Without looking at me, he pressed his ear a little closer to my skin, as if trying to catch even the faintest whisper of sound.

"Holy shit! I heard one!" he suddenly exclaimed.

I bit my lip, struggling not to burst into laughter. "Jacob... that was my stomach grumbling. I'm hungry."

He finally sat up, his brows furrowing in disappointment. "We should go to the doctor. This isn't normal."

A small chuckle escaped me. "You really have no idea how pregnancy works, do you?" I pushed myself up, wrapping my arms around his neck, my fingers caressing the nape of his neck. I couldn't help it—I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips before whispering against them, "Babies don't make sounds in the womb, Jacob. They don't talk or cry. They just eat, sleep, and sometimes move. And ours is still too tiny for even that. Right now, they're just growing."

"I see," he mumbled, though the skepticism still lingered in his expression.

I hesitated for a moment, my heart warring with my thoughts. Then, finally, I spoke.

"Jacob, can I ask you something?"

His eyes met mine instantly, and for a brief second, something flickered behind them—recognition. He already knew what I was about to ask.

Still, he sighed, shifting as he pulled me onto his lap, straddling him. My hands slid over his chest, fingers splayed against his warmth as I gazed at him, my voice soft.

"Your biggest fear... is that you'll become like your biological father, isn't it?" I felt his body tense beneath my touch—but he didn't freeze. He didn't flinch. He didn't even try to deny it.

Because he had been expecting this.

He exhaled a slow, shaky breath before nodding. "Yes, Evie," he murmured, swallowing hard. "I keep wondering—what if one day I wake up and see him in me? What if I start to behave like him? I can't even bear the thought of it."

I cupped his face, my thumbs brushing lightly over his cheekbones. "Hey," I whispered, my voice gentle, afraid that if I spoke too loud, I might shatter him. "You will never become him. You are Jacob. My Jacob. You are mine, and no matter what, you will always be the man I know." My eyes searched his, trying to anchor him. "You're the one who carries everyone's burdens so they can sleep in peace. The one who loves me, takes care of me, feeds me even when I refuse to eat. You are mine, Jacob. And my Jacob could never hurt anyone."

A quiet, pained sound escaped him as he pulled me into his arms, burying his face into the crook of my neck. I felt his heartbeat, hard and unsteady against my chest. This man bottled up too much. He was always too hard on himself.

"What memory haunts you the most?" I asked softly.

His body stiffened instantly.

He hadn't expected that. I knew how hard it was for him—to think about it, let alone speak it into existence.

But he had to let it out.

He couldn't keep storing it inside, letting it eat away at him.

When he remained silent, only releasing a slow breath of resignation, I cupped his face and made him look at me.

"Tell me," I whispered. "I'm here."

A few moments passed before he finally spoke. "The time he gave me a black eye," he said, his voice rough, as though the memory itself tasted bitter on his tongue. His jaw clenched slightly, tension coiling through him. "Sometimes, it still bleeds into the present. Like it's happening all over again."

"Which eye?" I asked.

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