36. JACKSON
THIRTY-SIX
JACKSON
I press a kiss to the top of Frankie’s head, where he’s curled into my side. “You’re really good at this,” I murmur.
“Sex? Yes, I know.”
A chuckle rumbles through me. “No, not sex.”
“Um, rude.”
It turns into a full-blown laugh. “That’s not what I meant, brat.” My smile morphs into a grin. “Plus. You are the only man I’ve been with. I don’t have anything to compare it to. For all I know, you are…sub-par.”
He gasps and smacks me across the chest. “And you call me a brat? Those were fighting words, Jackie.”
Fighting words? If he says so… His eyes widen a second before I pounce on him.
I try to hold him down, but he’s damn strong for being so much smaller than me.
Well, that, and he busts out the teeth. The fucker bites my shoulder so hard he gets an advantage on me.
He flips us for about five seconds before I’m back on top of him, hands pinned above his head, our heaving chests ricocheting off each other.
“Damn, I wish I had another round in me,” he says between pants. “But I honestly think I have zero cum left in my body.”
I drop my head onto his shoulder as I catch my breath. I’m right there with him. We’ve had sex three times since we checked in. My dick is making a valiant effort to join in on the fun, but it’s not happening for me either. That and my muscles are essentially limp noodles at this point.
I roll off him, but leave my arm strewn across his torso. I like touching him, the heat of him warming my skin, my fingers tracing over any part of him I can reach. I press a kiss to his shoulder.
“So, back to where I was originally going with this…”
He turns, and our gazes lock.
“You’re really good at this. Relationship stuff. Boyfriend-y stuff.”
His golden-brown irises search mine, the question in them clear.
“I guess I’m wondering why you’re not one?” My voice lilts up.
I don’t really understand it. I know I don’t have much experience, but I can tell he’s an amazing boyfriend, an amazing all-around person.
He turns heads wherever he goes—of all genders.
I guarantee there’d be a line a mile long if he let the world know he was available. Why hasn’t someone snatched him up yet?
“Oh, babe, you don’t want to get into my baggage.”
I push up onto my elbow and let my head roll in my hand.
Hmmm. He just changed. I can’t even put my finger on it.
But something went up between us the minute he said that.
His obliques are like stone beneath my fingers; those eyes that always flash teasing messages at me have shut the door. He’s put up a shield like…
“Someone hurt you,” I whisper.
He mulls it over, which only confirms it, but then he says, “No.”
My chin jerks in. “I don’t believe—”
“Someone didn’t, dolcezza.” The smile he sends me breaks my heart.
That kind of smile doesn’t fit on this man’s face. Those lips are meant to be sultry and sassy, curving into a smile that sparkles, not weighed down by whatever’s happened to him. Not crumbling under resignation.
“Someones did.” His smile turns from sad to something worse.
Forced and brittle. “So many I’ve lost count.
It’s lovely you think I’m so great at it, but experience has made it clear that that is not a role meant for me.
Which is fine with me. I love sex. I love hooking up and flirting and showing someone a good time.
” He nudges me with his shoulder. “I mean, look where it landed me. Showing this sexy MLB-bound ballplayer all the fun things two men can get up to together.”
I shake my head. “Don’t do that. Please.”
He stills.
“Don’t cheapen this. Please.” I clear my throat and the emotion threatening to crawl up it.
“I know you said you don’t do relationships.
And I know I don’t live a life that allows for one right now.
But that doesn’t mean this doesn’t mean something to me.
And I hope I mean more to you than a nameless, faceless hookup. I hope I’m more to you than just sex.”
He rolls away from me and squeezes his eyes shut. The muscles in his face strain and twitch like they’re fighting something, but what…
My body freezes from the inside out.
A tear slowly rolls from the corner of his eye down into his hairline, even despite how hard his eyes are sealed.
I’m over him in the next breath, wiping it away, hovering over him. “Hey. Frank, babe. Hey. What’s wrong?”
He gives a tight, quick shake of his head and tries to look away. But I tuck him into my shoulder and don’t let him get away. I hold him to me and latch on. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I want him to know I’m here. I’m a safe space. I’m here.
His body shakes, muscles rigid, twitching against me.
And then his arms wrap around me. Fingers dig into my back like he’s falling and I’m the only thing that can save him.
A choked sob bursts from him. Imbeds itself into my skin like barbed wire.
My chest twists, my heart scrambling. It’s racing around with no clue what to do.
All it knows is it wants to help the man beneath me.
Help relieve the pain, the anguish, whatever it is that’s plaguing him.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper.
And I do. I wish I could tuck him inside me and keep him safe. Protect him from all the someones out there who’ve hurt him. How could anyone hurt this man?
His tremors gradually subside, and he softens beneath me. His breathing is still choppy and fast, but it no longer holds the sound of a man desperate to restrain his emotions. And failing.
He finally melts into the mattress, and after one last hiccupping breath, everything eases.
I push up and gently wipe away the tear tracks staining his cheeks.
His eyes flutter open, and I suck in a breath.
Those golden-brown irises are the lightest I’ve ever seen.
Like the tears drained away some of their color, some of the life.
I swallow hard against my closing throat and gently push back his hair. “I’m here if you want to talk about it.”
“Okay.” His whisper is so small it sends another pang through my heart.
He nudges me gently, and I take the hint and roll off him. He follows, snuggling into my side, his cheek on my chest. He deflates on a breath that drags even my nearly three-hundred-pound frame down. His fingers patter over my upper chest, scattered and erratic.
“I’ve always tended to draw the eye of people who…
want to use me to fit their purposes.” He skates the pad of his finger up and down my collarbone.
“In high school, it was a lot of closeted boys testing the gay or bi waters. I’ve always been out and loud.
I was an…easy option, I suppose? Which was fine.
I was and am happy to help others figure themselves out.
But even the boys I brought home didn’t stick around long.
I was what you might call a launching pad.
And it didn’t bother me too much in high school—I didn’t want a serious boyfriend either. ”
His movements fall out of rhythm for the briefest moment. Highlight the small lie. It did bother him, but he brushed it off.
“I was having fun and eating up all the attention.”
I’m not so sure about that.
“Then I hit college and started to realize the joke was on me all along. Because people were settling down left and right, everyone except me, even though I was looking for that too. The first guy I’d really considered my boyfriend—we dated for three months—turned out to be only using me to make his ex jealous. ”
He lets out a hollow laugh. “I didn’t understand why we kept going to this same coffee shop that had the shittiest coffee over and over again—even when I’d complained about it.
Until the day the barista finally had enough and blew up at him.
His ex, if you didn’t catch on to that part.
They got back together after that. Pretty sure they’re still together. Frankie at your service, I guess.”
His hand drifts down to my stomach, and he traces my ribs.
“I tried the whole don’t put out on the first date thing for a while,” he says softly.
“You know, try to get to know someone before we dive into each other’s pants.
I didn’t get many call-backs after date one.
I’m not sure if it’s a vibe I give off or…
I don’t know, the way I present myself? I eventually gave up and just gave in to what the world wanted me to be.
It was fine. I mean, I was young anyway, right?
No rush in settling down. The world wanted Frankie to have fun—so Frankie had fun. ”
I squeeze him tighter to me and press my lips to his head. For the heartbroken young man of his past. I feel it, the overwhelming melancholy that still haunts him. My heart is like a kicked puppy in my chest, backing itself into a corner because of what he’s described.
He blows out a breath. “Until him.”
My fingers flex and bite into him.
He chuckles, but it’s flat. “Yeah, Jackie-babe. There’s a him.”
I’m scared to hear the rest. To ask the question. But I do because I’m pretty sure Frankie needs to get this out. Purge. “What’d he do to you, Frankie?”
He shrugs a shoulder, and his voice quivers when he finally speaks. “He loved me.”
I…don’t understand.
“He loved me for two years, Jackson. We were more than sex. Dates, laughter, conversation. Holidays. Met the family. I moved in with him.” His fingers ball into a fist over my stomach. “I lived with that man,” he spits out. “For nearly six months.”
I stiffen at the vehemence in his tone. I had no idea the flirty and breezy man tucked to my side could house such fury.
But that’s just it, isn’t it? What we show the world isn’t even remotely close to what we hold inside.
For my entire life, the world has seen me as a bigoted, probably brainless asshole.
Inside? A lonely, fucking terrified, gay boy just wishing he could like boys and play baseball.
“What happened?” I ask hesitantly.
“Oh, you know. Found out he was married with a kid on the way—” He cuts off and clutches me.
I feel it all the way deep in my chest, those fingernails scoring the vulnerable parts that reside there. And then I erupt in flames. Flames of loathing and indignation and—God—fucking venom-soaked fury
“Fuck.” He buries his head into my chest and is as still as death.
I try to stay calm and just provide steady support, but I can’t imagine he doesn’t feel my chaotic heartbeat pounding into his face.
I’m not a violent man, but this is the second time I’ve been compelled to harm a person on Frankie’s behalf.
How I wished I landed a punch on Dev. Broken cheek for broken fucking cheek.
He finally lets out a breath and relaxes again. “Sorry,” he whispers. “He doesn’t matter to me anymore. And it really frustrates me when I let it get to me.”
“Hey.” I tilt his chin up. “Just because he doesn’t mean anything to you anymore, doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to hurt over what he did to you.” God, it’s so fucked up. On so many levels. Keeping Frankie his dirty little secret. Cheating on his wife. “So, um, what happened when you found out?”
“I spotted them in his office. And he saw me.” Frankie lets out a sharp laugh.
“He had the fucking nerve to shake his head at me. A silent don’t say anything.
Like fucking really? Like he deserved that?
But I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. Later that day he called me into his office, and we discussed. ”
I frown. Called him into his office?
“Spewed all the stuff you’d expect a cheater to say to their sidepiece. He really loved me, but his wife fulfilled certain things that were expected of him. Said she was the same way, marrying him out of obligation. Their families went way back, apparently. I don’t know what was true.”
“Did you…did you stay with him?” I have a million questions. Like the fact that they seemed to work together?
“No.”
I let out a huge sigh.
“Don’t think too highly of me, darling. The only reason I didn’t was because of Pao Pao.
I moved back home and was basically under house arrest. I couldn’t have snuck off to see him no matter how hard I tried—and I did try a couple of times.
I was twenty-three and so gone for him. Looking back, I see it better for what it was.
I was grasping for the fantasy, the fictional relationship he crafted.
He was the first man to make me feel like I was important, that I meant something to him.
Like I said, he loved me.” He pauses, then whispers, “And I was so desperate to be loved.”
Still am.
He doesn’t say it, but I hear it. In the aching thrum of his heart against my side, in the grasping way he clings to me, in the broken, sorrow-tinged breaths trembling over my skin.
“Um. So, you mentioned his office? It kind of sounded like you two worked together?”
Frankie blows out a huff of laughter. “Yes. He’s the manager of one of the client accounts I work on.”
I curse sharply. Holy fucking shit.
“That’s how he played up the secret. Office relationships were frowned upon, especially with a superior.
He wanted to wait until he knew we were the real deal.
Moving in together was going to be the final test—or so I thought.
See, he shared his time between the Providence office and the San Francisco office.
I was his honey on the side in Providence, and his wife lived in San Fran.
I flew out for a meeting and wanted to surprise him.
Had tickets purchased for a winery tour and everything.
Early celebration of our two-year anniversary. I surprised him all right.”
“God, Frankie.” My words come out broken because I’m shattered.
I’m aware that evil exists in this world. I’ve seen it, hidden in its shadow like a coward. But I’d step out of the shadow a million times over if it meant protecting the man nestled into my side from it.
“It’s fine.”
We both know it’s not.
“But that solidified it for me. I was done, Jackson. I couldn’t—can’t—go through that again.
I swore off relationships. Frankie was for fun only.
” His fingers shake where they trace down the center of my abs.
His gaze flicks to mine. “I was never getting attached and risking that kind of pain again.
My heart falters, and my lungs stall. “Was?”
He sniffs, red-rimmed brown eyes glassy. “I’ve gone and done it again.”
“What have you done?” I say in a hoarse whisper.
“I’ve fallen in love with you.”
Everything stops.
“I’m in love with you, and it hurts so fucking much.”