My Dad's Bestfriend

Chapter 175 I'm Leaving

Evelyn

Chase dropped me off with a quick goodbye hug, and I stepped into the house, instantly engulfed by its familiar darkness. As expected, all the lights were off. That was Dad and Clara's nightly ritual, plunging the house into shadow as if setting the stage for a horror movie. When I'd teased them about it, they only laughed, claiming it was perfectly normal to have a vampiric darkness in your house at night.

But it never felt normal to me. Lately, though, I hadn't bothered to complain. The darkness had become my refuge, a place where I could vanish, and disappear from the weight of the world. It was easier to exist in shadows when you didn't want to be seen.

I kicked off my shoes and started toward the stairs, already feeling the exhaustion seeping into my bones. But then, out of nowhere, the thought popped into my mind: wine.

It had always helped. Especially on nights like this, when my mind was spinning with questions, doubts, and that gnawing anxiety that had been haunting me since Cameron's words. His voice echoed in my head, making me rethink everything. Fear takes away the most precious things in life.

Was I afraid? Had I become that person-the one too scared to love, to take risks? It didn't feel like me. I was never the one to back down. Then how had fear found its way in?

Love didn't make people scared. At least, it wasn't supposed to.

But heartbreaks... heartbreaks did.

"Turns out it's not that easy to figure out the root of fear," I muttered bitterly, heading straight for the kitchen. Wine was my only plan for the night-enough to numb my thoughts, maybe even enough to pass out.

But the moment I reached the threshold of the kitchen, everything came to a screeching halt. My heart skipped a beat, my thoughts scattering like broken glass.

The kitchen wasn't as dark as I'd expected. The open window let in a flood of moonlight, casting a silver glow across the countertops. But that wasn't what stopped me in my tracks. What froze me was the sight of Jacob Adriano leaning casually against the counter, shirtless as always. His bare skin gleamed under the moonlight, every line of his muscles highlighted in the soft glow. A glass of wine hung lazily from his fingers, and next to him, was the bottle I'd been planning to raid.

Of course, he'd beaten me to it.

did he already finish

a heavy drinker. Not like me, not on nights like this when I just wanted to shut my brain off.

truth was, I hadn't been paying close attention. Ever since Jacob had come back to America, all I'd done was avoid him like the plague. I thought I'd been successful-until last night. Turns out, I'd been

pulling me out of my trance. That's when it hit me

the hell is

looking. Shit. "I've had some," Jacob replied, his tone calm, almost too composed. It wasn't his usual playful or amused self. "But there's still enough left for you. How about sharing a glass with me before you head upstairs?" Say no,

"Uhm, sure."

Damn it.

kitchen, standing beside him but making sure to keep a sliver of distance between us. Close enough to feel the pull of his presence, but not close enough to touch. Not after last night-not after how it had left me unraveling. Jacob grabbed another glass from the cabinet, pouring wine into it, but didn't refill his own. When he handed it to me, our fingers brushed. That brief contact sent a shiver

he couldn't. But instead of pulling away, he held my gaze, steady and intense. "Here," he said softly, the weight

the glass, gripping

if the stem could

the memory of how things had spiraled last night. How I'd promised myself I wouldn't let it happen again. But Jacob was standing there, shirtless, inches away, and all I could think

of the wine. The taste was sharp on my tongue, but it did nothing

asked, his voice low, almost

trying to focus on anything other than the heat radiating off him. "You could say it was nice." I didn't even know how I

locked on me, as if he were waiting for me to say something more. But what was there to say? That I couldn't stop thinking about him? That last night had torn open wounds I wasn't ready to deal with. That I was scared-terrified, even-of

off

a faint smile, but his eyes darkened, as if he could see right through my attempt to brush

the moon, while I couldn't take my eyes off him. Jacob. My moon. A constellation of mistakes and scars that marred his beauty, yet, to me, he would always remain as breathtaking as

us felt oddly comforting, like we had momentarily escaped from the weight of the world. But then, as if determined to shatter

leave for

if bracing for impact. My heart pounded against my chest,