I sat on the bed and waited for him to go on but he didn't. My heart beat hard in my chest and blood pounded in my ears. Jacob had killed someone. Jacob. My Jacob. A murderer.
I sucked in air between my teeth and let it out slowly. No wonder he'd avoided telling me about the circumstances surrounding his own death. I'd suspected outside George's house that he was withholding something vital from me and now I knew what it was, and why. He was racked with guilt and he was afraid I would think badly of him.
"Don't look at me like that," he said upon opening his eyes.
"Like what?"
"Like...like you still love me."
"I do." What a stupid thing for him to say! "Of course I do."
"But...how can you after what I just told you?"
"Because you didn't mean it. It was an accident." I got up and crouched before him again. I took his hands in both of mine. "It was an accident, Jacob, and you don't deserve to carry this guilt, just as you didn't deserve to die." Oh God, is that what he thought? That he deserved death because he'd accidentally killed someone?
He blinked once then looked down at our linked hands. He lifted them to his mouth and skimmed his lips across my
knuckles. "Do you really believe that?"
"Yes! Jacob." I caught his face and drew it up so he looked at me. Our gazes met, briefly, then his flitted away to a point over my shoulder. "You are not to blame. Do you understand me?"
He smiled but it was weak and unconvincing. "I am to blame. Just because I didn't mean it, doesn't mean I didn't do it."
"But he attacked you first!"
"And I hit him last. That's what counts."
Men! Why did they have to think like brutes when it suited them? "Your logic is ridiculous, Jacob. No court would convict you."
"Emily." He said my name with great effort, as if he was beyond exhausted. "You don't understand. I hit him. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to stop him annoying me so I could go home, and to do that...I knew I would have to hurt him."
I frowned and shook my head. "That doesn't matter. You're a good person and I will not see you so angry with yourself because of something that wasn't your fault."
He drew my hands away from his face. His nostrils flared as his gaze met mine and held it. "You're not afraid of me?"
"No."
"You should be." He shoved my hands away, setting me unceremoniously back on my haunches, and stood up. "I'll stay away from you unless it becomes absolutely necessary." And then he was gone.