6. Alana
6
ALANA
I don’t know how I stand it. Day after day, Jackson quietly fits himself into our lives without making a big deal about it. He fixes the leaky faucet in my bathroom that’s been dripping for months. He maintains a fully stocked diaper bag in his car at all times, prepared for any baby emergency. He even shows up at my mom’s house to help replace her broken porch steps, working in the hot sun for hours without complaint.
Every new day makes it harder and harder to stay silent about my true feelings toward him.
The truth is that he’s had me from the moment he first kissed me a year ago. And that when he came back for me, I knew deep down in my heart that we were going to be together. But I was also scared, overwhelmed by the idea of having something so real, and I kept telling myself I needed to be careful. That even though Jackson was the father of my child, I had to protect my heart, had to maintain some distance to keep from getting hurt if he decided island life wasn’t for him after all.
But I can't keep pretending. Not when Jackson fits so perfectly into our lives. Not when I see Kai's eyes light up every time his father walks through the door.
We're meant to be a family—the three of us. Jackson is meant to be mine. It's what I want more than anything.
I just need to find the courage to tell him.
One afternoon, when I have the day off, Jackson and I take Kai to the beach. It’s a perfect day—not too hot, with just enough breeze to keep us comfortable. A handful of families dot the shoreline, a mix of locals and tourists with their telltale sunburns.
Jackson spreads out our blanket while I unpack the small cooler we brought. Kai sits between my legs, fascinated by the sand slipping through his fingers. In front of us, surfers ride the waves with practiced grace, disappearing and reappearing among the swells.
“How old do kids need to be before they can start surf lessons?” Jackson asks, watching a young boy paddling out with his father.
I take a sandwich from our cooler and hand it to him. “A lot of local kids start around age four.”
“Four?” He looks at Kai, who’s now examining a broken seashell. “That seems so young. I thought you’d say six or seven.”
I laugh as I gently extract the shell from Kai’s grip. “By six he’ll probably be teaching us tricks.”
“Damn. I better start taking lessons so I don’t embarrass him with my lack of surfing skills.”
“Yeah, I'm not sure how many of your baseball skills will translate to surfing…”
“Hey, I’ve got great hand-eye coordination,” he protests, flexing his arm dramatically. “I just need to figure out how to hit a wave instead of a fastball.”
“The wave hits you, Jackson,” I tease him.
A teenage surfer catches a wave in front of us, executing a flawless aerial maneuver.
“Now that kid’s showing off,” Jackson says, watching with admiration. Then he reaches for Kai. “Come here, buddy. Time for your first lesson.”
He lifts our son and carries him over to a nearby driftwood log. Placing Kai’s feet on the smooth wood, he holds him upright. “Okay, bend your knees a little. Arms out for balance. Perfect form!”
Kai’s face breaks into a delighted grin as Jackson carefully moves him back and forth, making whooshing sounds like waves. I grab my phone, laughing as I record a video of the pretend surfing lesson.
“I’m so sending this to my mom,” I say. “She’ll think it’s adorable.”
“Speaking of your mom,” Jackson says, lifting Kai into the air and making him squeal with delight, “I thought of something we could get her for her birthday next week—a plant for that empty corner of her yard. Maybe bird of paradise? I know she loves those flowers.”
The thoughtfulness of his suggestion touches me. “That’s such a good idea. It’s sweet of you to remember her birthday.”
“I mean, it’s hard to forget,” Jackson says with a grin. “She’s only mentioned it about twenty times in the last week.”
“Subtle, she is not,” I laugh, shaking my head.
His laugh fades abruptly as his gaze fixes on something beyond me. I follow his line of sight to the water, where a young teen appears to be struggling against the current, his arms flailing as a wave crashes over him.
“Oh, my God. Jackson—” I say, but he’s already on his feet.
“Stay with Kai,” he says sharply, already running toward the water.
My heart lurches as I watch him dive into the waves without hesitation, powerful strokes carrying him toward the struggling teen. Several people notice what’s happening and stand up, pointing and shouting.
I clutch Kai to my chest, my pulse thundering as Jackson disappears beneath the surface. The seconds stretch into an eternity. Kai senses my tension and begins to whimper.
Just when I can’t take it anymore, two heads break the surface. Jackson has one arm around the boy, keeping him afloat as he swims toward shore with his free arm. Other beachgoers rush in to help, pulling the coughing teen onto the sand.
I hurry forward with Kai on my hip, staying back enough to give them space. The boy is gasping and sputtering as someone wraps a towel around his shoulders.
Jackson himself looks stunned, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. Water streams from his hair and clothes, his eyes searching the crowd until they find me and Kai.
Back at Jackson’s house, he showers and changes into clean clothes while I put Kai down for a nap. My hands tremble a little as I tuck the blanket around our son, adrenaline still coursing through me. Once Kai is settled, I find Jackson standing on his lanai, looking out at the ocean in the distance.
I move beside him and place my hand on his back, rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades. He turns to me with a soft smile, his hair still damp from the shower.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
“Yeah.” He nods, his eyes drifting back to the horizon. “I just keep thinking about how that kid was once someone’s baby boy.”
His words hit me deep. The reality of what could have happened today—what could happen any day—is sobering.
“But everything turned out okay,” I remind him—and myself. “You saved him.”
Jackson nods again, his jaw relaxing a little. “Right.”
“That was really brave, what you did.” I lean in and press my lips to his cheek, a gesture of gratitude and admiration.
When I pull back, his eyes are warmer, a gentle smile playing at his lips. “So all I had to do was save a kid’s life to get a kiss?”
I laugh, the tension breaking. “No. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while now.”
“Is that so?” His posture changes, his body turning more fully toward mine.
“Well, look at you,” I tease, gesturing at his entire body. “You’re so goddamn handsome, it’s hard not to want to kiss you.”
His eyes darken a little. “You can kiss me anytime you want, Alana.”
And so I do. I step closer and press my lips to his, soft and slow at first. His arms wrap around me, strong and sure, as he moves us until my back meets the railing. Our kiss deepens, his mouth hungry against mine, awakening a rush of heated desire that I’ve been suppressing for too long.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless. I look up at him, taking in his flushed face and the intensity in his gaze.
“Take me inside,” I whisper.
The words are barely out of my lips before he scoops me up into his arms. I laugh, delighted as he carries me into the house. He takes me straight to his bedroom, where he drops me onto the big, plush bed I’ve glimpsed countless times but never had the pleasure of lying in myself. Then he’s moving over me, eclipsing my body with his, swallowing back a groan as I reach between us and smooth a hand over the hard bulge in his pants.
He murmurs my name, saying it like he’s saying it for the first time. I fumble with his zipper, feeling an achy heat between my thighs as I pull out his cock. God, it’s a gorgeous thing to behold. I stroke him a few times, marveling at how hard and thick he is. A pearly bead of pre-cum leaks out of the tip and I smooth my fingers over it, slicking it over his shaft.
Jackson groans and pushes his hips forward. His need is etched all over his face, his tortured expression telling me just how bad it’s been for him these past weeks. For the first time, I allow myself to imagine him jerking off by himself, desperate for release. Or maybe he didn’t even allow himself that. Is it possible? Has he not felt pleasure like this since we were last together?
My panties are too soaked to let my thoughts continue. I let go of his cock and push my hips up, desperate to feel him against me. We both moan at the heated friction, pressing harder and grinding against each other.
“Sweetheart,” he groans. “Jesus, you’re going to make me come all over you.”
I reach to pull my top off. He takes over, practically tearing it off. Within seconds, all of our clothes are crumpled on the floor. I wrap my hands around Jackson’s face, pulling him into a heated kiss as he settles between my thighs again. When he pushes his cock into me, I feel a rush of emotion that almost makes me cry out.
I take a deep breath, savoring the sensation of him sinking deeper and deeper into me.
“I love you, Jackson,” I breathe.
His cock pulses inside me. “I love you, too.”
He says those words as if he’s already said them to me a hundred times. And, in a way, I suppose he has. Every little—and large —thing he’s done since coming back to Hawaii has been a quiet declaration of love.
I smooth my hands over his broad shoulders, dazzled by how strong he is—not just physically, but in every way. He’s such a good man. Such a patient, kind, protective, good man.
I’m so goddamn lucky to be able to call him mine.
Jackson gives me a deep thrust, earning a gasp from my throat. And then again. And again. I’m almost dizzy with pleasure as he plunges into me, stuffing me full.
I sob at the loss when he pulls out. But it’s only so he can lift me up and push me up against his headboard, my tits kissing the cool wood. Then he’s sliding into me from behind, the heat of his massive body pressed up against my back as he fucks me the way he knows I love it. A couple dozen thrusts and I’m coming, feverishly crying out with pleasure.
I’m still coming when I feel the warm rush of his release inside me. It feels so good, so fulfilling, that it doesn’t register what we’ve just done for another several seconds.
Then, all at once, it does. A surge of overlapping thoughts spin through my head: He just came inside me. But I can’t get pregnant if I’m still breastfeeding, can I? Oh, God. Maybe I can.
Maybe I want it.
I ease off his cock and turn around, my breathing audible as I meet his eyes. Jackson is breathing hard too, his eyes focused on me.
We look at each other, quiet except for the sound of our breathing. Jackson’s eyes trail down to my pussy, to the cum dripping out of me, and then meets my gaze again. We move toward each other at the same time, me sliding into his lap as he pulls me into him. He’s already hard again, throbbing against me, wanting to fill my womb. And when he pushes into me, it feels more right than anything else in this world.