16. Jackson
SIXTEEN
Jackson
“I’ve never seen it.”
My jaw drops open. “I’m sorry, what ?”
Blakely shrugs, popping the last piece of avocado in her mouth, then sucking the leftover mess off her fingers. My cock twitches, confusion and desire twirling together and weaving around the edges of my heart, and I wonder how in the hell I’m suddenly finding everything this girl does enticing.
Shifting in my chair, I put my napkin on the table. “I think I’m misunderstanding you, princess, because I could swear you just told me you’ve never seen Die Hard , and that is completely unacceptable.”
She smiles while she chews, her amber eyes lighting up as she watches me from across the table. “Only if someone’s looking for your acceptance.”
“And why wouldn’t you be looking for my acceptance, Blake?” I tease. “Still not living up to expectations?”
“You said it, not me.” She lifts a shoulder, stifling her grin.
I exhale and push my plate away, watching as she picks up her phone, her fingers moving furiously over the keyboard. The smile that lit up her face slowly drains away, a heaviness drawing her features down, making me want to lift away the load.
Smacking my hands on my legs, I stand, walking until I tower over her small frame. Her face lifts from her screen, brows coming together. “What are you?—”
She screams as I dive toward her, my arms reaching around her waist, yanking her up and throwing her over my shoulder.
“Jackson!” she shrieks, laughing as her small fists pummel against my back.
A ball of excitement expands in my sternum, my grip tightening around her legs as I carry her through the open archway and into the living room. I throw her on the couch, her body bouncing on top of the oversized throw pillows.
“You. Stay.” I point at her as I walk to my small collection of DVDs.
Her giggle turns into a full belly laugh, and once I grab the movie I twist to look at her, narrowing my eyes. “What?”
She blows out shaky breaths, her hands holding her stomach as she tries to speak. “Just…just…remembering how… old you are.” Her laughter finally wanes and she leans back against the pillows, sighing, a satisfied grin on her face. “Who has DVD s anymore? It’s probably streaming.”
“I don’t even have those services.”
Her eyes widen as she shakes her head, but there’s a soft smile playing on her face as she watches me, her eyes sparkling. “You’re so different than anyone in my life.”
I start the movie and head to the couch, sitting down next to her and picking up her legs to settle on top of my lap. “Well, thank God you have me in it.”
She grins, her toes digging into my thigh. “You’re not wrong there.”
A warm feeling rushes through my veins as we sit on my couch watching my favorite movie and just being .
No expectations. Nothing left unsaid in the space between us.
It’s nice—the most content I’ve been in ages—and maybe that’s why when she falls asleep thirty minutes later, her legs curled around mine, I make sure to stay quiet so she doesn’t wake up.
So she stays.
My phone vibrates on the end table, my mom’s name flashing on the screen, and I move to the kitchen before I answer. I want to be far enough away to not wake Blakely but close enough where she’s still in my line of sight, because for some reason the thought of leaving her alone makes my chest ache.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, baby,” she replies.
“How’s life?” I ask in a low voice.
She chuckles down the line. “My life is the same as always, honey. How are you doing? How’s California? Still loving your job?”
Homesickness churns in my gut. I miss being close to her, being able to see her at the end of every day, so I can make sure she’s okay. Not that she’s ever needed someone to lean on. Samantha Rhoades is the definition of independent. She’s stubborn in her ways and strong in her beliefs, which is why she won’t let me take care of her even though now I can afford it.
She says she likes to stay busy, but I think she just doesn’t know how to be alone with her thoughts.
“I talked about Dad today,” I blurt out.
“Oh?” Her voice quivers.
She doesn’t like to bring him up, but she goes to therapy and she buries herself in her work and that’s all that I can really ask of her at the end of the day. She deals with her traumas the best way she knows how, the same as the rest of us. Still, it hurts when I try to speak about him and feel as though I can’t because I worry that if I do, she’ll shut down and then the conversation will be ruined.
“Yeah…it felt good to have someone who wanted to hear about him, you know?” I pause, running my hand through my tangled hair. “I’m not used to that.”
She hums but doesn’t respond.
My heart sinks, disappointment pressing on my chest. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. When are you coming out to Cali?” My eyes flick to the living room, energy zapping at my nerves and spreading through me when I think about my mom meeting Blakely.
And then shock punches me, my breath whooshing out at how natural it felt to think that. How clear the image was of the two of them together. Which is ridiculous because why would she ever meet Blakely?
She laughs. “Oh, Jax, honey, you know how I feel about planes. I’ll just see you when you come back home to visit.”
“Well, Mom, I don’t know when that’s gonna happen.”
My fingers wrap around my necklace, the metal balls of the chain indenting into my skin and grounding me. Honestly, the entire reason for moving here permanently instead of continuing to go back and forth from Sugarlake was for the space it would grant me. So I could gain some perspective without Lee breathing down my neck and that fucking asshole Chase at her back.
And even though it’s only been a few weeks, I already sense the shift of my thoughts and I’d be lying if I said a huge reason for that isn’t Blakely. I’ve been convinced my heart was too bruised to feel anything but the ache, but I’m starting to think maybe I’ve been wrong. All I know is that when I’m around Blakely—when it’s just the two of us—she’s so much more than what I was expecting.
And that makes me want to stick around.