I need everything that reminds me of Jacob close to me. The locket he gave me is around my neck, where it always is. I search the floor of my closet until I find the plastic bag that contains the shirt Jacob was wearing the day he saved me from Brad. It somehow ended up in the bag of my things from the hospital.
I hold the shirt to my face and breathe it in. It still smells like Jacob—sweat mixed with his cologne. It also smells like the barn—dust and musty hay. There's a long rip down the back and dark brown stains on the front. Blood. Jacob’s blood. It makes me think about Jacob being hurt, Jacob bleeding. It makes me sick to look at it. I wad it back into the bag and put it back in the closet.
I try to focus on other things. I study the picture of us together. Jacob saved my life. Jacob held me, Jacob kissed me. Jacob loves me. I know he loves me.
I love him too. Why didn’t I write it in every single email I sent him?
“Please, God, let him be safe.” I pray out loud as I lie back down on the bed and trace my lips with the locket.
I get ready for bed and turn out the light, but I can’t sleep. I keep listening for the phone ringing. If Trina got any news from Jacob, she would call immediately, wouldn’t she? My heart feels hollow. I run through every moment of our time together. Somehow, he has to be okay.
I have to see him again.
When I finally sleep, I dream about Jacob. I'm running down a long, dark road. He's calling my name, but I can't see him. He's right in front of me, but always just out of reach.
"Jacob!"
His name is on my lips when I wake up. As I shake myself out of the dream I realize two things; the house phone is ringing, and my locket is gone. I must have been twisting it in my sleep. The chain is on the floor by my bed, broken.
I search my bedding frantically, as if finding the locket will make Jacob safe. I tear the bed apart before I find it, underneath my pillow. I press it against my lips.
"Jess."
Mom stands in the doorway with the phone in her hand. Her face gives nothing away.
It has to be Trina. She must have found something out in the middle of the night and decided not to wake me.
I take the phone with trembling fingers. “Hello.”
eleven
Bittersweet
“Hi Jess.”
“Jacob.” I gasp. “Thank God.” I grip the phone tighter and the tears I held in all night flow down my cheeks. I can’t say anything else.
“Are you okay?” Jacob’s voice is tender and full of concern.
I laugh, relief almost giving way to hysteria. “AmIokay? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Sorry if you were...”
Terrified, heart-sick, grief-stricken. “I’m okay. Now. Oh, Jacob, thank God you’re okay.”
“Say that again,” he says.
I take a deep breath. “Thank God you’re okay.”
“Not that, just the first part. My name,” Jacob replies. “It sounds so good to hearyou say my name.”
“Jacob, Jacob, Jacob,” I say it over slowly, savoring his name on my tongue. “Jacob, thank you for calling. I was so afraid.”
“I’m sorry, Jess. I wish I could have called sooner. They lock down all communications when," he draws in a breath. "Things are pretty tight here right now.”
“Jacob,” I ask quietly. “Is Bryan okay?”
“He’s fine. No one you knew was there.”
