Chapter Thirty-Three Emily
Chapter Thirty-Three
Emily
I wake up in my perfect bed next to Jackson’s perfect body and I breathe the same perfect air he’s breathing and for the first time in a long time, it goes right into my lungs and zips into my bloodstream. It doesn’t have to get through the elephant that’s usually blocking my airways. I don’t know what the future holds, and maybe I’m starting to sort-of-kind-of be okay with that concept. Because I’m okay with the idea that for today, I’m happy.
I open my eyes and breathe him in. That glorious man-skin smell. It’s salty like a kettle chip and warm like a dinner roll. Am I hungry? I’m hungry for more of Jack.
He must feel me stir because we’re facing each other, and his eyes open slowly like mine. I smile at him, and he smiles at me, and we’re both obviously contemplating making what happened last night a double feature. That is, until a throat clears at the end of my bed.
I jolt upright, pulling my sheets to my collarbone while I glare at my sister, who is standing at the foot of my bed like an absolute creep. “Madison, what the hell?”
Madison’s smile looks like she should be holding a bloody pitchfork. “Are you my new brother?” she says to Jackson, delighting a little too much in being a menace.
I hurl my pillow at her and then rip Jack’s out from under him and catapult that one next. Maddie is cackling like a witch brewing something extra special in her cauldron as she scuttles out of the room. “I need you to take me to the airport in thirty minutes, though!” I’m out of bed and slamming the door behind her. Locking it. “Don’t dawdle, Emmy! I have a plane to catch and a big city to conquer. Also, nice to see you again, Jack!”
“Nice seeing you too, Madison!” he calls out from the bed, where I turn to find him looking like a sleepy, studious model. He’s clothed only in his tattoos and the drape of my sheet across his waist, propped lazily on his elbow, muscular shoulder sagging toward the mattress. He put on his glasses too. Good lord, this man. All loose-limbed with his hooded eyes and scruffy angles. This looks like a man who knows his way around a woman’s body—and let me tell you, I can confirm that he does.
Apparently while I’ve been standing here, he’s been having a moment about me too. “Shit, look at you.”
“Who, me?” I say with false modesty as I stand here in a sexy pink-and-white gingham-patterned sleep set. Right after we—ahem—finished up in the truck, Jack looked unsure of how things would go. Or more like willing to step back and let me set the pace for our new relationship. I’m so used to Jack fighting with me on who will call the shots that I nearly busted out laughing when I slid off the truck’s tailgate and he just sat there with his legs dangling off the back, his crooked, self-deprecating smile stealing my heart.
“Good night?” he asked, the question mark a strong punctuation.
I took his hand and guided him toward the front door. “You know what I think it’s time for, Jack?”
“I can think of several great options actually.”
“It’s time for you to be the first man to try out my incredible mattress.”
“I get to take your mattress’s virginity? This is an honor.”
And it was gratifying that he made so many moaning noises when he finally lay on it that I had to slap my hand over his mouth so Madison wouldn’t wake up and get the wrong idea.
But here he is now, lounging in my bed in the full light of morning, looking so attractive I could cry, because as rumor has it, he’s mine.
I’ve floated closer to the bed, and Jack reaches out, pinches the fabric at my navel, and tugs me even closer. “Come back to bed.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Why? I’m already out.”
“Because I’m still in.” His hand is skating up the back of my thigh and under the hem of my shorts.
“But…but…” My bones are melting. “I’ve gotta take Madison to the airport in thirty minutes. I’ve got stuff to do.” His hand glides completely up under my shorts and over the slope of my ass. I shove my fingers into his hair (blond today) and he looks up at me. Hands tender, eyes blazing.
“Just for a minute…come back to bed. I won’t let you stay too long.”
I can see it now, my future sprawling out in front of me where I have trouble saying no to Jackson ever again. We’re not going to be competing over a parking space because we’ll ride together. We’re going to be disgustingly cute.
I turn and sit on the edge of the mattress. Jack’s arms go around my middle, quickly flipping me up and over him until I’m facing the opposite wall. He curls in behind me as the big spoon with one arm under the pillow and curving up and over my chest. The other wraps around my lower abdomen like a lazy python, curling and constricting in the most fantastic way.
When I’ve thought of snuggling, it’s always been something flippant and silly. A complete waste of time. But this. This is different. It’s as if Jack knows that my body needs pressure to rest. I’m wearing him like a parachute. And with the feel of his body intentionally holding on to me, mine relaxes. I point and flex my toes. I brush my fingertips up and down his inked forearm.
“Your fingernails drive me insane, have I ever told you that?” he says softly next to my ear.
“No, I don’t think you have.”
“They do. I don’t know what it is about that red, but I want to bite them.”
“That’s okay. I’ve decided I want to live inside your skin. Is that creepy?”
“A little, yeah,” he admits casually. “Can I offer you one of my sweaters instead?”
A giddy swirl hits my stomach. I have to kiss his arm. “Even better.” We lie here a minute before I realize something important. “Wait! You never told me what happened with your parents last night.”
Lying this close, I feel his muscles tense. Whatever happened, it was not good.
He hums in my ear like he’s contemplating which moment of the night to begin at.
“The beginning,” I tell him, assuming I’ve read his thoughts correctly. “Tell me all of it.”
He rests his chin above my head on the pillow and tells me everything. Tells me how the house has always felt like a humongous monster to him. How hard it was having an alcoholic dad but having to pretend to the world like everything was okay. And how his dad only sobered up when he almost lost his career—but it had nothing to do with him or his mom. He mentions how all of this led to him taking on the responsibility of protecting his mom from a young age. And how last night, while sitting at their table, he put a stop to it.
He kisses the side of my face and holds on to me tighter like I’m the one with the parachute now. “I couldn’t sit there any longer and allow myself to feel used. So I told him the truth. About all of it. I even told him that I’m Ranger, and I told both of my parents that I wouldn’t be coming back. I said goodbye to that house and that way of life for good.”
“ Jack, ” I say tearfully, twisting to look at him. I want to find something encouraging to say. Something worthy and important. “I’m so proud of you. That had to be incredibly difficult. And you did it.”
His smile is sad. “Thank you. It felt right. I just…I hate that my mom won’t leave. But I told her that if she ever did need somewhere to go, my door would be open to her.”
“And mine,” I say, meaning it.
This is what chokes him up. I see tears collecting in his eyes, so he shuts them until he gets a handle on them. I want to tell him it’s okay if he cries in front of me, but this has been a big week. We’ll get there eventually.
“So how do you feel today? Now that your parents know about Ranger?”
“Surprisingly good,” he says after sufficiently pushing his feelings away again. “In fact, I think it’s time to come out from behind the name.”
“Really?” I say with a huge smile because it honestly delights me. “I am in full support of this decision.” I want everyone to know that those incredible books belong to Jack. I want to be able to shout his accolades from the rooftops. But mostly, I don’t want him to have to hide himself away ever again.
I nuzzle into his chest. “I can’t wait to brag to everyone that I’m dating the best mystery writer on the planet.”
He hums and I feel the vibration against my cheek. “I knew you only wanted to date me for my status in the book world.”
I shrug. “It’s fair since you’re only in this relationship for my magical mattress.”
“It is a great mattress.” He breathes in, pulling me in even tighter. “I love it. And I love you. ”
Those words. My first reaction is to take a sledgehammer to them until they’re nothing but dust where I can never find a trace of their existence again. Because what if they don’t last?
But then I force myself to put the sledgehammer down this time, and instead I run my hand across the slopes and valleys of those beautiful words. Right now—Jackson Bennett—loves me. And that’s something to delight in. The fear and trepidation can just take a hike.
We both jump out of our snuggly cocoon when Madison pounds on my door. “HEY! You better not be getting frisky in there— although I’d actually be proud of you if you were, ” she says almost to herself. “But that’s not the point! I’m going to miss my flight if you don’t get your ass moving, Emily Walker.”
Jack kisses the side of my face. “Come find me when you get home, Goldie.”