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RORY
When I wake up the next day, the sky is still dark. Checking the clock on Jackson’s bedside table, it says half-past five. I’ve only been asleep for a couple of hours. The body heat that radiates off Jackson is immense. Over the years, I’ve joked how he was a personal heater, always warm despite the season. But laying here with him naked, our limbs tangled together, my observation was an understatement. Jackson is a damn inferno.
Carefully, I untangle myself and place my feet on the cool hardwood. Memories of last night sit at the forefront of my mind as I replay the highlight reel. What a drastic turn my life has taken. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I was all set to be married to Brad. Today we were supposed to leave for our honeymoon. Looking behind me, I watch Jackson sleep and smile. I feel like I’ve traveled a million miles since yesterday, and I’m emotionally and mentally exhausted.
And this is just the beginning. There are going to be so many questions from so many people. Together, Jackson and I need to face my father, his parents, and our friends. But even worse, eventually I have to face Brad again as we exchange the pieces of our life the other still possesses. That confrontation is something I am not looking forward to.
Despite the mental exhaustion, my brain is too aware of everything to even attempt to fall back asleep. I grab a quick shower and put on a pair of Jackson’s sweats and a T-shirt before making my way to the kitchen. When I see the kitchen table, I can feel the heat flood through me before settling in my abdomen. Jackson Nash had his way with me right there. And there, I think as I look over at the living room couch. And again in the bedroom. Twice.
Along with arousal, I feel a wave of guilt rush through me. I’m a horrible person. To mimic Brad’s words, I’m “selfish.” I’ve never been the type to jump immediately from one man to another. Then here I go on my wedding day, leaving one man at the altar only to end up naked in another man’s arms hours later. Telling him I love him, no less.
“I’m a horrible person,” I say out loud.
Unfortunately, I have no way to absolve my sins at the moment, so I do the only thing I can think of; I clean. The pan Jackson used to make our omelets last night still sits on the old wood-burning stove. Just as our dirty dishes remain on the counter. Quietly, I get to work, hoping that by busying myself I’ll be less likely to think about what a horrible human I’ve become.
After the dishes are done, I start a load of laundry, tossing in Jackson’s dirty clothes basket along with the panties I had on yesterday. Then I make a pot of coffee before heading out to the porch and watching the sunrise from the rocking chair. Off in the distance, I see a family of deer grazing, along with a few ducks swimming in the pond. I close my eyes and take in a deep, cleansing breath, loving how clean and crisp the air feels out here. It feels like freedom, and I have to remind myself that no matter what I did or how much pain I caused, Brad and I are now free. Free of each other and all the obligations and commitments we made that I would not be happy with and, in the end, would have made him miserable as well.
“The kitchen’s clean, the laundry’s going, and there’s a fresh pot of coffee made.” Jackson’s sleepy voice breaks through the silence. “What’s going on in that head of yours? Regret?”
A small smile turns the corners of my mouth up, and I shake my head. He knows me too well. “No regrets. A lot of guilt, but that’s to be expected, right?”
My eyes finally glance over to where Jackson stands, and he takes my breath away in the warmth of the morning light. The mess of his hair, the way his tan skin glows, and how his gray sweatpants hang sexily on his hips. His hazel eyes glow golden as they settle on me.
“Yeah, I think so.” He looks down at his hand and I notice he’s holding my cell phone. “Your phone was lighting up like a Christmas tree.”
Jackson steps out onto the porch and hands it over to me. It was dead, and I placed it on the charger before coming out here to enjoy my cup of coffee. Scrolling through, I see endless texts from my dad, Lyndsey, and Jackson’s mom. There is one from Brad, and I unlock my screen to see it in its entirety.
B:I want all memories of you out of my life. But I need some time to cool off first. I’ll reach out when I’m ready.
That’s fair. At least there wasn’t any name calling, or worse. If the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t be able to show that type of constraint. I choose not to respond. I’ll give him the time he’s asking for and when he’s ready, he’ll reach out.
“Everything ok?” Jackson watches me nervously.
“Yeah.”
Before I put my phone down, another text comes through from my dad. I send him a quick response that I’m ok so he can stop worrying, and then I turn my phone back off. Everything else can be dealt with later.
“I should probably get my cell out of the truck, too.”
“Probably. Your mom sent me a few messages, so I’m sure she’s been blowing up your phone.”
“How do you want to handle all of this?”
The empathy in Jackson’s voice tugs at my heart. Eventually, everyone will be happy for us. I mean, they love us, so they have to be. Right? But I know it won’t come right away. Jackson’s dad is very straight edge, by the book. He isn’t as forgiving with Jackson as he is with Jameson. It’s almost as if he holds him to a different set of standards. And the way Jackson went about everything yesterday will not sit well with him. By now, the rumor mill has to be running wild as to why Jackson left the wedding, followed by me running away shortly thereafter. Mitch Nash must be sitting on his recliner stewing in the embarrassment.
“It’s spring break at school and since I’m no longer spending it in Mexico, I’m going to use the time off to hide away from the world.” I bite my lip and smirk at him. “Care to join me?”
Jackson lets out a sigh and holds out his hand for mine. I slip my hand in his and he gently pulls me to my feet before taking over my seat. He then pulls me into his lap, where I gladly curl up, resting my head against his chest.
“I’ve got the personal time to take. But I don’t know how your dad is going to handle it if I call out all week to violate his daughter. He might take that as an indirect form of insubordination.” Jackson’s hand dips under my shirt, and I feel his nails run ever so lightly down my back. “But you can hide out here as long as you want. Like you said yesterday, I’m the one who pulled the pin out of this grenade, so I’ll deal with the carnage first.”
Jackson thinks it’s his job to take the heat alone. But I won’t let him. I’ll talk to my dad before Jackson shows up at the station on Tuesday and let him know that the two of us have decided to move straight into a relationship. I’ll tell him that hearing Jackson tell me how he really felt allowed me to see how I had been suppressing my true feelings for him as well. And above all, to let him know that I’m happy. That for the first time in months, I can actually breathe without the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders. I can’t guarantee Skip Monroe won’t pull some over-protective dad crap on Jackson, despite seeing him as the son he never had. But I’m sure hearing that I’m happy will ease any worry my dad might have.
After spending a few more quiet minutes rocking on the front porch, Jackson takes a shower while I make us breakfast. By the time he’s done, I’ve got a plate of chocolate chip pancakes and some bacon waiting for him on the table. The table that I’ve disinfected three times since waking up.
“Smells good,” Jackson remarks as he strolls back into the kitchen. “Mmm, chocolate chip, my favorite.”
“I know.” I laugh.
