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His hands were on her chin, holding her steady, and she felt him stiffen—felt him withdraw.
And when he pulled away from her, she was more confused than ever.
“What are we doing, Raine?” Jake’s voice was ragged. “What the hell are we doing?”
She heard his pain and the hole inside her expanded. It twisted and twisted until she could barely breathe.
“We’re trying to survive,” she whispered through tears.
I’m trying to stay alive.
“We can’t, not like this. Not again.”
Jake pushed her away and leaned back. “Not again,” he repeated, and closed his eyes. “Christ, I feel like shit. Just get me to a bed.”
He settled back into his seat, head turned toward the window, away from her.
For a few seconds Raine was too stunned to do anything. What had she just done? Eventually she became aware of doors slamming shut and engines roaring to life. The truck next to her pulled away, and she watched its taillights fade away to nothing. It would seem that the turkey roll was officially over.
Her fingers gripped the steering wheel, and after a while she flipped the radio on, reversed out of her parking spot, and headed into the night.
Chapter 14
Dawn came late this time of the year and it was usually cold, dark, and nasty. Jake rolled out of bed, his mood black before he’d even given it a chance to improve. He was still in the clothes he’d worn the night before and hadn’t bothered to change, which meant that now his bedroom smelled like a damn brewery.
He glanced in the mirror and groaned at the sight of his bloodshot eyes and rumpled T-shirt and jeans.
Coffee was the order of the day and something he needed in the worst way possible. The rest—like a shower and a change of clothes—would have to wait.
Noisel
essly he made his way downstairs, but the smell of a freshly brewed pot greeted him, and he knew someone was already up. He hoped it wasn’t his mother, because God knew she deserved a hell of a lot better than his sorry ass first thing in the morning.
God, he felt like shit.
But that’s what Canadian whiskey will do to you, if you let it.
With a groan he entered the kitchen and winced at the bright lighting. His father was at the kitchen table, Saturday paper in hand and two steaming cups of coffee in front of him.
“I heard you up and poured you some java,” his father said.
“Thanks.”
Steven peered over the paper at him and shook his head. “Hitting it a little hard last night, were you?”
“Appears so.”
Jake grabbed his coffee, leaned against the table, and glanced at the clock. It was barely five in the morning, pitch dark, and the wind that howled along the lake was something fierce.
“Mom still in bed?” Jake savored the warmth of his cup and studied his father.
Steven nodded, folded the paper, and grabbed his mug before settling back in his chair. His thick hair, white as the snow outside, was kept short, and though his color was better than it had been, he was still pale. He was still thin. Still heartbroken.
Would any of them ever be whole again?
“How’s Wyndham coming along?” Steven asked. “Sorry I haven’t been out this week, but the new development on the other side of the lake is keeping me busy.”
Jake smiled wryly. “It’s coming…I guess.”
