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Jackson is alone in the corner, sprawled in an armchair, a beer in hand and his head resting in the other as he silently watches everyone. He smiles softly as I approach, no hesitation in how he wraps calloused fingers around my wrist and tugs until I’m settled on the arm of the chair. Shifting awkwardly, I clear my throat. “You were looking for me?”
He hums quietly, messing with the rings adorning my fingers. “Everyone's staying the night. Are you okay with that?”
Even if I wasn't, I don't really have a choice; my ride is curled up on the sofa, his girlfriend in his lap and the youngest Jackson chatting his ear off about photography. But really, I don't mind.
Not that much.
My knee knocks against Jackson's. “I'll sleep in the barn with Clyde.”
That coaxes a laugh out of him, a large hand enveloping my knee and squeezing.
I'm painfully aware of how close we're sitting. And the longer we sit, the more the night goes on, the closer we get.
At one point, Jackson shifts my legs so they're draped across his lap and scoots me closer until my ass sits on his thigh.
I blame my lack of protest on the wine.
After his third beer, his head lolls, falling to the side and settling in the crook of my neck. It's instinct that has my hand reaching up and twining in his hair, fingers burying in the silky strands and stroking the way he used to like. Still likes, apparently, if the pleased rumble in his chest is anything to go by.
I could blame the wine again for my own head falling forward and resting on top of his. I could also blame it for my free hand creeping towards the one of his that rests on my thigh and lacing our fingers together. And I could definitely blame it for lulling me to sleep, and not the soothing strokes he rubs along my skin.
I'm not sure how long I doze for. I just know that the next time I open my eyes, I'm being cradled in a pair of strong arms. Blinking away the sleep, Jackson’s face comes into focus just as he sets me down on a soft surface. His bed, I realize, the knowledge bringing a whole horde of butterflies to life in my stomach. “What're you doing?”
“Go back to sleep,” he shushes me gently. Too sleepy to protest, I let him ease my shoes off, let him tuck me under the covers. Tucking my hands under my face, I curl up in a ball, relishing in the comfortable warmth.
“Where are you sleeping?” I ask through a yawn. My face twists in a grimace when he points at the floor. That doesn't seem right. “The sofa?”
“Taken,” he tells me as he arranges a couple blankets in some poor excuse for a bed.
I don't know if it's the drunk side of me or the desperate, needy side but something makes me scoot over as far as I can without falling off the edge of the small bed and pat the empty space I make. Definitely drunk but maybe needy and desperate too, Jackson doesn’t protest. He just flops beside me, his head lolling towards me, his eyes trained on mine.
For the second time today, he shocks me by saying exactly what's on his mind. “I miss you.”
A lump forms in my throat. “Jackson…”
“I know,” he says softly, a rueful grin on his handsome, tired face. “I'm not allowed to. But just lemme pretend for a sec.”
Pretend. Pretend everything's okay. Pretend everything's normal. God, that would be nice.
I choose to, once again, blame the wine for the way I inch closer to him, not stopping under my chest is flush against his side and my head rests on his shoulder. “Okay.”
* * *
It's a bad habit we're creating, this falling asleep in each other's beds business.
I think my body knows it too, because it wakes me up at the crack of dawn and doesn't let me go back to sleep. The sun is barely up when I slip out of his bed, stopping to switch his alarm off on the way out my door because I have a feeling sleep is not something he comes by often these days.
Padding down the hallway, I make a pit stop in the living room to steal a blanket, careful not to wake any of the bodies passed out there. No one stirs as I wrap the blank around my shoulders and creep outside, even when the screen door squeals loudly.
A chilly, morning breeze caresses my bare legs as I slump on the porch steps. I’m still wearing my dress from yesterday because apparently, asking for a change of clothes is where I draw the line. Hugging the blanket tighter around me, I breathe in the brisk but fresh air.
I sound like a broken record but God, I missed this place so fucking much. I missed the feeling I get whenever I'm here. All I've wanted the past few months was the peace I associate with Serenity Ranch and I couldn't get it, and it was my own damn fault. And as good as it feels to have that now, I’m already dreading leaving and not knowing if I’ll ever be back again.
When the door creaks open behind me, I brace for Jackson. I only relax slightly when Lux appears in my peripheral, swaddled in a blanket too, a mug cradled to her chest and another held out to me.
I accept the drink, the heat of it seeping through the ceramic into my cold hands, the steam warming my face and carrying the scent of green tea. “Is it poisoned?”
Lux's elbow meets my ribs as she sits down beside me. “Drama queen.”
