3. Maggie #2
“Yeah, she’s a charmer, this one.” Marco continued giving him his professional smile. “We were just going to find some privacy.”
Jack looked between us with suspicion. “Yeah,” he cleared his throat. “You doing okay, Mags?”
Like it was meant to deter me from going outside with Marco, the sound of glass breaking directed my attention across the room.
A blur of red hair rushed from behind the bar with a rag.
I shouldn’t have been surprised to see my father flailing his arms dramatically in conversation with a woman in front of him.
He looked embarrassingly intoxicated. Of course, he didn’t apologize to Jared, the sweet bartender who rapidly picked up glass shards from the floor and wiped spilled beer with a rag.
“Who is that ?” Marco asked with more judgment in his tone than I appreciated. “Looks like one of the old-timers is past his prime and making up for it with too many Coronas.”
A hot flush of embarrassment washed over my face.
It was shameful enough that I usually had to drag my dad out of these parties way earlier than what was appropriate to leave a party drunk, but at least the regulars here weren’t making comments to me about it.
I was pretty sure they pitied me too much to say anything.
Obviously, Marco wasn’t a regular and didn’t know any better, but it still didn’t help the Maggie on my shoulder yelling at me to get my dad out of here before he made a big scene.
I dashed over to Jared, my dad, and the mysterious woman he was still speaking to with theatrical gestures. I was pretty sure I heard the words fuck you from Jack to Marco before footsteps followed behind me.
“Maggie!” Dad exclaimed, eyes lighting up when he noticed me. “Come, meet Julia. Julia, this is my magnificent Maggie.”
He was slurring his words, per usual. More embarrassment shot through me when Julia looked between Dad and me with wide eyes. Mine pricked with tears as a cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck.
A few soft mumbles from below me caused me to look down. Jack had followed me over here and was helping Jared pick up the broken glass. My fingers shook. Jack knew my dad. He knew his situation. But his helping out didn’t make me feel any better.
Fuck . I felt out of control. All I wanted—all I had ever wanted—was for my dad to get better. To fix himself. To not have to feel ashamed of whose daughter I was in situations like these. When I looked into his distant eyes, I knew he was as miserable with his vice as I was.
“Nice to meet you, Julia,” I managed. “But I think my dad needs to go home now.”
She nodded with an obvious glare, as if I had just told her the sky was blue, before turning to find anyone else to interact with.
More cold sweat on my neck. Now my toes curled with humiliation.
“Come on, Dad. Let’s go home.” I placed my hand on his shoulder and tried to guide him away from the bar and out the door.
“No, honey. Not ready to go yet. So many more people to talk.” My stomach hurt. He didn’t speak in complete or correct sentences when he had too much to drink. I had to learn how to speak Drunk Richard as my second language growing up.
“I know, but I’m tired and don’t want to leave you here tonight. Can we go home, please, Dad?”
He looked reluctant to believe me. I used this excuse every time, and it was painful that he never put the pieces together that we were never going home because I wanted to leave.
“I mean…are you sure you can’t let me stay a little longer?”
Jack rose from his kneeling position on the ground. He brushed his palms against each other, likely to remove any small grains of broken glass. “Come on, Richard. Let’s go.”
I turned to Jack with a twinge of humility and indignation. This wasn’t his problem to deal with. It was mine. “It’s fine. I’ve got him.”
Jack’s eyes, stiff from looking at my dad, softened when they reached mine. “I want to help.”
Shrugging him off, I began ushering my dad toward the door. “No. I’ve got it.”
This was my problem. It was humiliating enough that I had to walk through the crowd of partygoers with my drunk father—I didn’t need Jack chaperoning us, whether he knew the situation or not.
But it didn’t matter, because Jack trailed behind us as we walked—or, more like meandered—to the exit, shoulder-checking Marco on the way out. We walked into the cool night, each member of our trio in the exact opposite situation we wanted to be in tonight.
“Come on, we’ll take my truck.” Jack motioned. It was closer than my dad’s and my golf cart, which was further down the gravel parking lot.
But I protested anyway.
“Seriously, Jack, we don’t need your help.” I shifted as my dad began to lean some of his weight on me. Great, he was falling asleep, and we weren’t even home yet. He was drunker than I thought.
“I know you don’t, but he’s so fucked, you won’t even be able to get him inside.”
It wasn’t his place to be inputting himself in our shit, but he was right, and I was exhausted. If we could get him into bed and forget about this night, I could get over it.
“Fine.”
We drove the eight minutes from the Forrest Hills clubhouse to my dad’s and my farm, me in the front seat, and my dad passed out in the back.
A terrible feeling knotted in my stomach.
I was on edge tonight, first with the comment about my mom, and now everything with my dad.
Jack was detached from the situation, saying nothing as he guided my unconscious father into the dark, quiet house and deposited him in his bedroom.
I hugged my torso in the living room while I waited for him to come out of my dad’s room.
My body felt drained with humiliation and disappointment over my father.
I loved him with all my heart, but moments like these reminded me just how fucked up I was because of him.
I had no intention of getting married, but he made me question if it was safe to trust anyone with my damaged heart.
Jack emerged from the master bedroom, his expression giving nothing away.
No empathy, but more importantly, no pity resided in his eyes.
It was just the two of us in the dark living room.
But what could I say to him? Despite our close upbringing, when things like this happened, it felt like Jack had lived a completely different life from the one I had.
When a few beats passed, Jack asked, “Do you want me to take you back so you can get your golf cart?”
I broke out of my trance. “What?”
“Your golf cart,” he repeated. “It’s still at the clubhouse.”
“Oh…yeah. Yes, I need to bring it back.”
***
When we returned to the clubhouse, my brain was everywhere and nowhere. I was humiliated and upset, and I craved anything that would help me forget about this night.
I figured Jack would stick around at the party a while longer, so I hopped out of his truck as soon as he turned off the ignition. Being in his space felt like too much. Overwhelming in a time when I wanted to be alone.
A few spots had cleared out, so standing in the open felt exposed, like someone might walk out of the clubhouse and recognize me as the girl who dragged the plastered man out of there a few minutes ago.
I tipped my head back and took a few deep breaths, trying to clear my mind.
I fucking hated this. Part of me was dying for the winter season to come, to escape to anywhere else for a few months.
But another part of me scolded myself for it.
Yes, he was a grown man, and I was a grown woman, but my dad needed someone to take care of him…
right? I couldn’t look after him forever, but at least he would have someone to save him from himself.
When I brought my head back down and opened my eyes, I nearly jumped seeing Jack standing in front of me and the pitiful expression that painted his face.
“Jesus Christ, Jack. You scared the shit out of me.” My breathing was still uneven, and I tried to shake off the shivery feeling all over my body.
Jack said nothing. He just sighed and pulled me into a hug.
What the hell?
His embrace warmed my skin in a way completely opposite to how I felt looking at my intoxicated father. I didn’t need a hug, but it felt nice to be shielded from the world for a minute.
“Jack?” I asked, my voice muffled into his shirt.
He stayed quiet.
“What’re you doing?”
He said nothing.
“Why are you doing this?” I tried again. This wasn’t normal. We didn’t do hugs. There was nothing sappy about us.
“Just give yourself a minute,” he answered softly.
“I don’t need a hug.”
“Well, I’m giving you one anyway.”
I sighed and let everything sink in for a few moments.
I desperately hoped this wasn’t what my future would look like forever.
It was depleting imagining my life as the girl with the drunk father.
I prayed more than anything that it wouldn’t define my reputation in the same way it defined my views on life.
Leaning into Jack for a few more seconds, I asked myself why I was suddenly craving his touch more than ever right now. It wasn’t lust, but it also wasn’t romantic.
Gratitude, maybe?
Then it dawned on me.
Control.
I wouldn’t be led through life. Hell, I was pissed at Jack for staking his claim on me earlier and I was pissed at him now for helping me tonight.
“Why did you help us?” I asked, pulling back. His hands didn’t release my forearms, and my blood warmed at the simple gesture. “Is it because you were trying to get laid?”
“Why did I–” Jack scrubbed a hand over his mouth, looking away as he shook his head. “You needed help, Maggie. And no, maybe it wasn’t my place to drive him home and put him to bed, but you looked devastated. I just wanted to help you.”
His worry for me meant he cared, I knew that. But I couldn’t let him care. Not like that. The second we started caring for each other, romantic feelings would get involved.
I couldn’t handle that, especially not after tonight.
But for tonight…just tonight, maybe I didn’t want to be alone.
“Let’s go,” I ordered, pulling one arm away from his and dragging him off to the closed gift shop behind us.
“What—Maggie, what are you doing?” Jack stuttered as he blindly followed me. “Where are you going? This is—”
I yanked open the back door of the gift shop and pulled it shut once we were inside. “Just give me a minute, Jack,” I repeated his earlier words and locked the door.
The small gift shop was only open during public games and was therefore usually closed and empty when nothing was going on. Luckily, the back door was always unlocked.
It was pitch black inside, so I had to feel my way around the tables in the cluttered room. Jack’s hot breath landed on my neck as I held my hands in front of me like a zombie. But despite the darkness, his hands found my hips instantly, gripping them with fervor.
When I finally found the blank wall I was looking for, I turned around to latch my fingers on Jack’s broad shoulders and pulled him against me.
As soon as our bodies were flushed together, he let out a sigh.
Both of us were breathless with anticipation, he tugging my hips closer and me itching to feel his bare skin.
I inhaled him like a drug, letting that crisp leather scent sit in my lungs. Jack’s eyes met mine in the dark.
“You want me to make it all better, baby?” his low voice rasped in a bare whisper.
Better. Safer. Come closer. Just don’t leave me alone.
“Yes,” I answered breathlessly.
And with that, his lips were slamming into mine, devouring me like he hadn’t eaten in months.
His mouth was rough and ravenous, searching my mouth for the pleasure we both so desperately wanted.
But his hands? His hands were soft and gentle, caressing me in a way that warmed me the same way as his hug.
I laced my fingers through his blonde hair and pulled his face closer to mine.
His lips were warm and so damn intoxicating.
Everything in the last hour faded into another life, letting me focus only on Jack's fingertips burning my skin.
His hands moved from my back down to my waist, cautious with his touch.
I arched into him, letting him know that I was okay and that I craved his touch on every surface of my body.
Pulling back, Jack rested his forehead against mine. “Maggie.”
I looked up at him, fear slipping through the cracks of my tough facade.
“I am going to ask you this as many times as you need me to, and I need you to be honest with me.” His eyes turned serious, still bubbling with want. “Are you okay? Do you want this, or is it a distraction?”
My heart spiked. No. No, no, don’t feel this. Don’t feel anything.
To answer his question, it was honestly both.
“I’m okay,” I nodded slightly, rolling my forehead with his. “A little shaken, but…I need this.”
I captured his lips, and he groaned into my mouth.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he growled. “Is this a distraction?”
Shaking my head, I chanted, “No, no, not just that,” and kissed him. Hard.
He moved down to grip my ass with both hands. A different kind of shiver rushed through my body. The kind that only Jack Hennicke and his perfect knowledge of what I needed could elicit.
“Good,” he whispered through kisses.
This felt more intense than just a hookup. Granted, I was the one who dragged him to the nearest dark space and provoked him, but he was caring more intensely than I was ready for.
Dousing my thoughts with the cold bucket of water that was Jack’s likely roster of women, I dismissed the idea of him caring and prepared myself to leap onto his waist. But Jack had other plans.
He took two short strides forward and slammed me against the wall, placing his forearm against it and wrapping his hand around the back of my neck.
Startled by his sudden action, I pushed him forward and began to unbutton his navy blue button-down.
The reveal of his perfectly tanned chest was heavenly, warming my core and ruining my panties by the second.
Jack took the opportunity to move his lips to my neck and his hands to the hem of my top.
His hands on my body? Unreal.
We were bare against each other almost instantly. As Jack moved his hips closer to mine, a look of terror crossed his face.
He backed off.
“Shit.”
“What? What?” I asked, confused. Did we take it too far? Was he realizing that his words to me were not hookup material?
“I…” He scrubbed a hand down his face and stared at the ceiling. “I didn’t bring any condoms. I’m clean, but…”
I softened at his concern but pulled him back to my lips. “I’m on the pill—and I’m clean.”
Jack raised his eyebrows before accepting my kiss. “Fuck, Maggie. Get back here.”
My heart leaped a little more at that comment than it should’ve.
But it was probably just Jack giving me exactly what I needed.