How could I burden someone else with that when I knew how insidious my grief was just on the surface? I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else.
But Jackson? He just kept poking. Without even realizing it, he was prodding at the places my defenses couldn’t hold against. The cologne, the chair, his bright smile and that single dimple which all somehow seamlessly blended into the quiet companion. And here he was, pressing me for more. I’d braced myself for the things he might fling back at me when I’d used my vows to Raleigh like some kind of shield.
But he’d easily slipped around it, and before I’d even realized it, my back had been pressed against the very shield meant to protect me. Then he’d held me there. Forced me to see the cracks in my armor, and I couldn’t even hate him for it. I tried to. I sincerely searched for even a shred of real anger inside me, but all I found was the chronic pain I’d come to live with masquerading as indignation and outrage.
Then somewhere under that, the truth.
The truth Jackson had been seeking, but I was so unwilling to give, because accepting it meant I was cutting one of the only ties I had left to Raleigh. I wasn’t ready to move on because how else did I hold what little I had left of him close? If my heartbreak was all I had of him, how could I ever let it go?
It didn’t feel possible to me, but with Jackson’s fingers still carting through the back of my hair, and the bone deep weariness I felt, there wasn’t much thinking I could manage at the moment. I knew I had to be a mess with swollen eyes, salt tracks down my blotchy face, and snot mingling somewhere in my mustache, but when I pulled backfrom Jackson’s shoulder, the soft smile he gave me had me feeling like his prized possession.
His finger burned as he ran it along the tender skin of my cheek, wiping away some stray tears stubbornly clinging to me, but I wouldn’t have pulled away even if he was attempting to slice me open. His hand slid down to cup my neck, and that small connection plus the tender expression he wore as he surveyed me over was a balm I needed.
“Thank you,” he whispered lowly even though there was no one other than the crickets and Nighttime to hear him.
“What for? Snotting into your shirt like a tissue?” I croaked, my voice rough.
Jackson’s laugh was healing in its own right. “Making jokes now, huh? Have a good cry and now you’re a comedian, are you, Tucker Legare?”
More like all the energy I use to maintain my walls with you is gone.
But instead of admitting that, I just grunted.
“In all seriousness, though,” Jackson continued. “Thank you for not holding back. For trusting me and letting me hold you.”
There was so much more hidden in the words left unsaid.
Thank you for finally admitting I mean something. Thank you for not running away again. Thank you for putting your broken heart on the line.
My head was beginning to go fuzzy from the exhaustion, and the little energy I had left was going toward keeping me upright rather than speaking, so I simply nodded. I should have thanked him back. Should have told him his ability to hold space for Raleigh and me was a gift that I appreciated beyond belief.
But even if I’d had the strength to do so, the moment Jackson leaned forward, soft lips grazing their way along my burning flesh, I wouldn’t have been able to get the words out anyhow.
“The ball is in your court, Tucker.” Hot breath fanned against my ear as he spoke, his voice low and raspy in a way I’d never heardbefore, and it sent chills up my spine. “I’ll wait for you, however long it takes. When you’re ready, you let me know.”
I hadn’t realized I’d closed my eyes until I felt him pushing me back, the sudden shock of the cold night air jarring after the blanket of warmth Jackson’s body had provided. Once there was enough space between us, Jackson bent over and retrieved my hat from the ground before placing it back on my head. Then he cuffed my shoulder like we hadn’t just shared the most intimate moment I’d experienced in the past three years and began trekking back through the pasture to the bonfire.
I stood there for another moment, blinking back against the profound loss of him, in ways that felt more than just physical, and trying to reconcile that with a familiar tightness in my jeans. I wasn’t sure how I’d explain my absence, but I would stand there till my erection went away. Even if it took all night.
And if I didn’t stop replaying the sensation of Jackson’s lips against my ear, it actually might.
I woke up the next morning having dreamed of a tongue that tasted like chocolate as it speared into my mouth and firm, calloused hands that held my hips while they pushed me back into the wooden slats of a fence. My own hands had sifted through sandy blond locks, holding onto them like the reins of a horse I knew I’d lost control of. That kiss had been wild and free and full of passion, and I was almost bereft when I opened my eyes to a room still covered in Nighttime’s embrace.
I could hear her snickers somewhere in my rafters—believing she’d bested me once again by filling my head with images of an eventthat previously would’ve seeded me with festering guilt. But this morning? I choose to believe Nighttime was being a hopeless romantic, and not the conniving bitch she’d shown herself as before.
My body protested the movement as I shifted to sit upright, the aches of deep muscles I hardly used feeling tender and sore. It could have been the fall. It could have been the way I’d curled over Jackson as I cried for God knew how long, but either way, I was feeling every second of my thirty-six years on this Earth this morning. Rolling my neck, I meandered my way into the bathroom to take care of business and freshen up for the day.
I’d just finished emptying my bladder and had turned to wash my hands when I noticed the discoloration on my left hand. Dark purple bruising stained the back and the blotchy, oblong shape stretched up toward my ring and middle finger. Gingerly, I pressed along the area, trying to determine the extent of the damage, only to realize how swollen it actually was. Electric shocks of pain traveled up my wrist and into my arm when I attempted to close my hand.
“Fuck!” I hissed. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good.
Making my way back into my room, I dressed as best as I could, but the sharp zaps of pain that came whenever I moved my fingers too much, much less make a fist, nearly bowled me over. I rounded my bed, using my good hand to unlock my phone and get the call going before settling it between my cheek and shoulder as I attempted to get my boots on one handed.
Marcy picked up on the third ring despite the early hour, but her groggy voice told me I’d pulled her straight from sleep. “Hello? Tuck?”
“Hey, Mars,” I said, kicking myself for calling at an ungodly hour for anyone else. “Sorry for waking you.”
“Is everyone okay? Is there a mare dropping early?” she asked, already sounding a little more alert. A distinct shuffling of covers being thrown off came over the line.
