Chapter 13
Jake
“Like two trees whose branches have grown so close they intertwine, two hearts can fuse together, inseparable and forever changed by the other existence.”
-The Forest-
Grabbing my laptop from my desk, I head downstairs, and grab a beer from the fridge, not caring it is barely the afternoon. I step outside by the pool and find some shade to escape the harsh afternoon sun.
A headache is coming, a dull pressure at the base of my skill, and I know a beer won’t help, but I’m desperate for anything to ease the knot of tension building inside of me.
Lucas' words replay, mockingly, in my head: ‘I’ll marry you for this cooking.’ Seriously? What century is he living in? Is he looking for a wife, or a chef? I scoff at the absurdity, irritated that I’m even dwelling on it. My focus should be on the more pressing disaster at hand.
The bank denied my loan request for the hotel. Apparently, my father already took out a loan for who knows what. Let’s add it to the list of things he’s ruined, just like our family. Apparently the hotel wasn’t as important to him as I thought. I guess she was the only one that matters to him. I’m willing to bet he took out those loans for her.
The anger simmers within me, fueling a bitter resentment. Why should I drain my own savings, the money I earned, to clean up his mess?
Sipping the beer, I stare at the water shining under the sun, trying to calm the storm inside, but the alcohol does little to ease the seething frustration.
I never asked for this.
I run a hand through my hair before opening the laptop. Now that the bank denied the loan request, I need to look for potential investors. As I’m going through my emails, the air shifts. It becomes warmer, charged with a faint electricity before a storm. I know she’s here before I even see her.
Despite my best efforts, my gaze seeks her out, drawn like a magnet to her form as she settles on the lounge chair across from me. Her focus is on the laptop screen.
Her presence makes it hard to concentrate on the emails I need to send for the hotel. I catch her stealing glances at me. “You’re staring,” I call out.
“No, I’m not,” she says, but our eyes lock again, neither of us wanting to look away. I close my laptop and move closer to her, gravitating towards her.
Her gaze lingers on me as I sit at the edge of her lounge chair. She’s nervously tapping her fingers on the keyboard.
“What’s on your mind?”
She remains silent, her fingers hover above the keyboard.
“Talk to me,” I say. I’m met with another silence. She avoids my gaze and stares into the distance. I know that look. Something is clearly bothering her.
But, I’m met with more silence. I take a deep breath, trying to be patient. “Come on, let’s go for a walk,” I suggest, but she shoots me a sharp glare. Realizing my approach might be a little too direct, I add, “Please?” softer this time. I know that Princess doesn’t like being told what to do.
After a moment, she sighs, closes her laptop, and stands up. I grab my laptop and follow her inside. I’m guessing that’s a yes. She’s wearing another one of her graphic shirts. This one says, I’m 99% sunshine but ohhh that 1%.
I think it should be the other way around. I chuckle to myself. How did I end up here, sharing a cabin with her, this woman who somehow became my concern in the little time I’ve known her? I shake my head.
We place our laptops on the kitchen island before we step out. Walking through the forest, her expression changes. The lines of tension around her eyes ease, almost as if she’s absorbing the tranquility of the surrounding trees. A genuine, unguarded smile replaces her previously reserved look.
Once we reach the waterfall, she takes a seat on a rock, captivated by the water’s cascade, but my attention remains fixed on her. I sit on a rock beside her, memories of our first meeting at the gas station surface. She seemed familiar, and I’ve been racking my brain since then, yet nothing clicks.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathes out, her eyes widening with awe as she stares at the waterfall, listening to the rushing water. “I love waterfalls. They remind us to let go, and that falling doesn’t always have to hurt.” She pauses and smiles. “My mom used to tell me, when you’re having a bad day, just find a waterfall and stare at it. Watch how it falls over the rock. It doesn’t let anything get in its way. It flows right over them.” She laughs, and I can’t help but smile at the sound. “She even built a small one in our backyard.”
While she’s in awe of the waterfall, I’m in awe of her. She’s my waterfall. She turns to look at me, and our eyes meet. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but I can’t look away.
She’s studying me too.
“You always look at me like you are trying to figure me out,” she says.
Am I that obvious?
I offer her a half smile. “It’s strange, but I feel like we’ve met before. You seem familiar, yet I can’t place where or how.” Her eyes draw me in and penetrate deep into my soul.
“I get the same feeling.” No one has ever looked at me like that before.
We sit there in silence for a few minutes, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Moving from the rock, I find a comfortable spot on the grass. Shaded, yet has a clear view of the sky through the branches. I lay on my back, staring at the moving clouds, the coolness of the grass pressing through my skin. The sound of the rushing water is comforting.
I’m aware of her eyes on me, burning on the side of my face as she remains seated on the rock. “Wanna join me?” I pat the ground beside me. She hesitates, then silently, almost tentatively, she settles next to me.
We both turn our eyes upwards, staring at the sky.
After a moment of silence, I ask, “you want to tell me what’s wrong now?” hoping she will tell me the thoughts that shadow her beautiful eyes.
She turns, meeting my gaze directly. “Only if you share what got you so upset earlier.”
“Okay, deal,” I say with a light laugh. I’m not sure why she even cares.
She breathes in deeply before she starts, “My mom was an amazing writer, and I’ve always wanted to be like her…” She trails off. Her eyes fill with unshed tears. “But I’m not as good as her. My dad wants me to be a doctor and thinks writing is just a hobby, even though my mom made it—she was a bestselling author.” She pauses, her fingers trembling as she picks at a blade of grass. “He thinks she was one of a kind and had a gift. And he’s right. But I don’t have the gift she had. I could never be as good as her.”
I understand her fear, her own expectations, and her dad’s expectations. I studied business because it was expected of me as the first and only child—to manage the family business. But that’s not what I wanted.
“Can you do something for me?” I reach for her hand and squeeze it, her pulse quickens under my touch. Her eyes are filled with vulnerability.
“I need you to stop thinking about your mom’s writing for a second, and what your dad wants. Ask yourself, what does Mia want? And why does she want to be a writer?”
I hold her gaze, my voice soft but firm.
“If that’s what you want, what you love—if writing makes you lose track of time, and you could do it for hours, so lost in it that you forget to eat—then fucking do it.” I squeeze her hand again, more firmly, willing her to understand.
She doesn’t give me an answer, but I don’t need her to. It’s something she has to find within herself.
She gives me a tentative smile, and I capture it, tucking it away somewhere deep in my heart. I love her smile. “I love climbing. It started because of my uncle—he introduced me to it. But when I was on top of the wall looking down, I felt something I’d never felt before. A sense of control and accomplishment.” I pause, glancing down at our joined hands before looking back at her. “And I fell in love with that feeling.”She holds my gaze, and I continue. “You can’t compare your writing to hers. You have your own voice and your own story to tell. Focus on that, okay?”
“Okay,” she nods, a small smile escaping her lips, lighting up everything around us. “You’re surprisingly good at this pep talk thing.” She laughs.
“Why is that surprising?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Because I thought you were just an asshole, but I see you, Jacob Harrington.” Those brown eyes framed by long lashes, and thick eyebrows draw me in without mercy, an intensity I can’t escape.
I ignore the way my heart chokes in my throat. “You know my full name?”
“I’m staying in a cabin with a stranger. Did you think I wouldn’t do a little background check? I had to make sure you weren’t a serial killer or something.” Her laughter bubbling, mingling with the sound of the waterfall.
“You looked me up?” I laugh along with her.
“Technically, my best friend did.” Her laughter grows louder; it’s infectious. I wait for the little snort that I know is coming, and when it does, I laugh even more. My chest is lighter than I’ve felt all day.
I glance at her. My heart is racing, a reaction I can’t quite control. I can barely breathe with the need to press my lips against hers. Are they as soft as they seem?
Then, I remind myself that I don’t deal with feelings and emotions. They just complicate things, and you have no control over them once you give them the power to destroy you.
Life is simpler with the adrenaline rush of a climb, or the thrill of doing something crazy. Top it with a great orgasm with someone you will never see again.
Mixing pleasure with feelings only leads to disaster. That’s a line I will not cross.
I’ve seen it firsthand with my parents. My dad kept hurting my mom, and she forgave him over and over. Then she would spend weeks, sometimes months, in a deep depression.
“Why isn’t the waterfall mentioned on the website?” She pulls me from my thoughts. “I’m sure people would pay more to stay here if they knew about it.”
I shrug, my confusion mirroring hers. “I’ve been coming here for years and never knew about this waterfall. It’s bizarre.”
She sits up, her eyes narrowing as she scans the surrounding forest. “That’s not possible. Waterfalls don’t just appear.”
“I said the same thing.”
“Maybe you missed it, or you never came to this side of the forest before,” she suggests, though her tone is more questioning than convincing.
“Maybe.” But I’m pretty sure I’ve hiked through here before.
“How else would you explain it?” Her lips pursing in thought.
Yeah, I’m wondering the same thing. And surely, we can’t be the only ones who know about this waterfall.