1
JACOB ALBA
Irun my fingers through my hair one more time and frown at the reflection of myself in the mirror. My hair needs a trim.
Badly.
My jaw clenches, and I sigh as I shake my head, letting my hair fly out of place as if I’m some kind of wild animal. I need a haircut I have been avoiding because there is only one person’s hands I want on me or my hair. One I shouldn’t crave, yet my stupid fucking heart wants what it does, and my body agrees with it for once.
“You’re hopeless,” I mutter to reflection and grab my keys, phone, and wallet. I walk through my bedroom and into the living room. The place is tidy, if not a little bare. A TV and an oversized sectional. The furniture I do have is dark wood that pops against the freshly painted white walls. There isn’t much, but it’s hell of a lot better than when I first moved in.
My phone starts to ring. I frown at the sight of who is calling. Guilt starts to eat at me. This all started because of him, but I can’t really blame him.
“Hello,” I answer, running my fingers through my hair, making it a worse mess.
“Hey, man,” my best friend, Reed, responds. “You almost here?” I clear my throat.
“Not yet, Reed.” I roll my neck, waiting for him to get on me about hurrying up.
“Thank fuck.” My brows bunch at his reaction.
“Why, what’s up?” Everything inside of me goes on full alert.
“Listen, my sister needs a favor.”
“Your sister?” Shit! I was still recuperating from the last favor I did for her.
“Yeah, Eden.”
“Is she okay?” Worry tightens in my belly as the image of her face pops into my head.Stop,a voice in my urges, but my heart fucking stops the concern more than I could stop the flow of blood in my veins. It can’t. Not when she’s the one I’m trying to avoid because I know if I get too close, I’m not going to be able to keep my hands to myself.
“Yeah,” he chuckles, but it does nothing to ease the worry in my gut. “Her piece-of-shit car though, is a whole other story. I guess it won’t start. I was hoping, since you’re going to come over and you only live about five minutes away from her, maybe you could help me out and pick her up?”
“Pick her up?” My voice sounds raspy. My mouth is dry. But my silence and lack of complaint have Reed thinking I’ve agreed.
“Great, man!” he cuts in. “I seriously appreciate it. I’ll text you her address if you don’t remember where she lives.”
I’ve been there once. Once that my best friend knows of, at least.
She moved back to Moonlit Pines two months ago, and he asked me to help lug boxes from the U-Haul into her rental. Reed was clueless about me driving past her place daily. Sometimes twice a day because I couldn’t help it and my heart literally missed her.
“Jacob? Jacob, you there? Did the call drop?”
“I’m here.” I clear my throat. “I remember.”
I remember all too well.
Shit, I’m almost certain my truck can drive there all on its own now if it needed to.
“Thanks, man, I seriously appreciate it.” But before I can say anything, he hangs up. I scrub my face, feeling the trimmed beard I have grown out, and wince.
I’m going to go see my angel.
2
EDEN WOODMAN
I’m staring daggers at the car that has been a pain in my butt since I got it as a junior in high school a decade ago. A car I haven’t been able to get rid of because there’s always something more important that needs my attention.
