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Jackson hasn’t left my side, happy to let me hide from the world in the crook of his neck. A hand gently plays with the ends of my hair, the other coasting up and down one of the legs strewn across his lap, squeezing comfortingly every so often. “It’s okay,” he whispers every so often. “Everything will be okay.”
“I shouldn't have said anything,” I whisper back, regret burning my throat like acid.
Jackson stays silent. Just keeps stroking and murmuring and soothing, like I'm a child recovering post-tantrum while I twist my ring round and round and round until the friction burns my skin. A quiet plea to stop caresses the top of my head and when I don’t, Jackson does it for me. Slipping the ring off my finger and onto his pinky, he frowns as he brings my hands to his lips, blowing gently on the inflamed skin. “I'm throwing this thing away.”
“It looks better on you.”
The corner of his mouth twitches as he swipes a thumb across my lower lip, the smell of the Arnica I smoothed over his bruising knuckles tickling my nose. “You tryna put a ring on my finger already?”
I pull a horrified face but below it lurks a weak smile. He's good at that, making me smile when I least feel like it. “You throw it away, you buy me a new one.”
My grumbled comment earns me an amused eyebrow raise. “Now you're trying to getmeto put a ring onyourfinger?”
“I hate you.”
Still smiling, he leans in, his skin soft and warm as he rests his forehead against mine, gently nudges my nose with his. “Liar.”
Yeah. Big, fat liar. But I don’t get the chance to deny it because a body throws itself on the couch beside me, making me curl further into Jackson as though he can protect me from what is undoubtedly about to be a verbal spanking.
From the moment Kate burst in the house, I’ve avoided her. I already know I fucked up. I don’t need the lecture.
“Luna-”
“I know,” I cut off what I’m sure is a very eloquent reprimand. “I fucked up.”
“Yeah, you did.” Kate balances out her curt tone with a gentle hand on my shoulder. “But you'll fix it tomorrow.”
Instinctively, I go to fiddle with my ring, rolling my eyes when I'm hindered by Jackson's tight grip. Kate zones in our clasped hands, a hint of a smile on her face that she hides with pursed lips. Scooting closer, she casts a cautious look in Cass' direction before whispering, “Did something happen between Nick and Amelia?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“I just wonder what set Dylan off,” Kate wonders aloud, but we both know the answer.
Nick could’ve been tying her fucking shoeless and Dylan’s reaction still would've been cataclysmic. He doesn’t know how to react with anything other than extremity. An outfit he doesn’t approve of, a waiter getting his order wrong, a fucking haircut.
Rejection.
He takes none of it. He makes all of it someone else’s problem.
And I am so,sotired of it being mine.
* * *
My second journey upstairs tonight is very different to my first.
No grabby hands or smashing lips, just silence and tension and cautious glances at Nick’s closed bedroom door before Jackson shuts his.
I get ready for bed quickly, eager to close my itchy eyes and rest my aching head. Fingers that aren’t mine tug my hair free of its constricting ponytail, smoothing out the tangles. and I lean into the touch eagerly. Lips graze my cheek before hands squeeze my shoulders and steer me towards the bed, one pulling back the covers for me to slip beneath.
I do and Jackson joins me quickly, shirtless and his jeans exchanged for sweatpants, smelling all minty fresh and clean. I'm tugged back against his chest the moment he lies down, engulfed in his arms, limbs all tangled together, his fingers alternating between stroking my back and massaging the nape of my neck. I exhale a pent up breath only to inhale deeply, breathing him in.
I’m exhausted but my mind won’t stop racing. I’m desperate for sleep but I can’t find it, and not even Jackson’s presence has its usual lullaby effect. I can tell he’s still awake too, the rise and fall of his chest against my back too erratic. When I toss and turn for the millionth time, he holds me in place. “You'll fix it tomorrow.”
A wholly unattractive snort escapes me. “You sound like Kate.”
I feel his smile against my skin. “I'm taking that as a compliment.”
“You should. She's the only one of us with her shit together.”
