Chapter 9 #2
“I feel like your lack of communication indicates the test results were not what you wanted.” Her sister’s voice was soft through the door.
“No,” Cricket said. But even as she said that, she didn’t feel like it was true. She wasn’t devastated. She wasn’t even sad. It felt...right somehow. That there was no way she was going to get out of a relationship with Jackson without keeping something of him.
Without being changed.
“Honey,” Emerson said. “Open the door.”
And Cricket did, knowing she must look every inch the bedraggled insect her name suggested she might be.
“Whatever you need. I’m not here to judge. If you need a ride to anywhere, if you need me to provide you with an alibi while you collect a weapon to go kill someone...”
“No,” Cricket said.
“No to...”
“Any of those things. I’m fine. I mean, I will be. I’ve just got to...tell him.”
“And by him, do I take it you mean Jackson Cooper?”
“The very same. And I didn’t want Wren to tell Creed to kill him.”
“Well, I’m fixing to tell Holden to kill him, so all you’re really doing is sparing Creed’s conscience.”
“Please don’t kill him. I’ve got to tell him.”
“Sure.”
“I’m not upset.”
“You look upset.”
“Well we’re not really...together anymore. So that kind of sucks.”
“Well, you don’t need him. You’ve got us. Whatever you want to do, you’ve got us.”
“I want to have a baby,” Cricket said. “And I didn’t think I did. But now that it’s happening... I mean, I guess it’s not a bad thing that I’m not horrendously unhappy about it.”
“Yeah,” Emerson said. “I guess so.”
“I just need...to see him. Before anything else.”
Emerson had been protective, but Cricket managed to extricate herself from her sister and get herself on her way to Jackson’s place.
She had never been there before, and she was stunned by how impressive the modern ranch house was.
All black windows, reddish wood siding and charcoal paint.
An extraordinary collection of shapes and angles.
So very different from the classic little farmhouse she had.
They were so different.
But...
At their core, they had plenty in common.
There was a reason they were in this situation, after all. Chemistry, for sure, but more than that.
She would never forget that day they had spent out on the picnic blanket. He might have been stern and cold the last time they made love. The last time she’d seen him, but that wasn’t the sum total of what they were as a couple.
A couple.
But they had never been that, had they? They’d been two people bonded together by a bed, by her pain and...
And glimmers of his. Which he had shared, but so sparingly. And she knew there was more to him. She did. Knew there was more to who he was and everything that he carried around inside of him, even if she didn’t know quite all what it was.
But this was the time, she supposed. This was where the rubber met the road and the...well, the positive pregnancy test met with their present reality.
She took a deep breath and got out of her truck, making her way up the paved walk that led to the large, flat entryway.
The door was huge, and it made Cricket feel tiny.
She stood there and took a breath, trying not to be reminded of feeling tiny in other circumstances.
Standing outside the door to her father’s office.
Sitting way down at the end of a long banquet table, feeling lost in the family villa.
No, this was different. Because she was standing there a changed woman from who she’d been back then.
When she’d just been a girl. When she hadn’t known who she was or what she wanted.
When he called her little Cricket, it wasn’t a bad thing.
And she didn’t mind. When he said it, it somehow made her feel special, protected.
And right now, she was protecting a life inside of her.
And that made her feel strangely powerful. Renewed and changed.
She’d never really thought about being a mother.
And in fact, in passing, had thought she wouldn’t be.
After all, her own experiences with family hadn’t been any good.
But she didn’t feel tied to that. Not now.
Not anymore. Whatever the Maxfields were, it didn’t make Cricket Maxfield one of them.
It didn’t mean she had to repeat their legacy over and over again.
Somehow, that little inner boosting helped buoy her on, and she raised her hand and knocked on the solid oak door.
She shook her hand out, because it hurt.
And she wasn’t even sure it had made a sound in the gigantic space.
But then, the door opened, and she jumped back. Because there he was, standing in the doorway wearing a tight black T-shirt, jeans and a black cowboy hat. And he looked...well, amazing.
“Hi,” she said.
“Cricket,” he responded. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, that’s not the friendliest greeting.”
“Sorry. Do you want to come in?”
“Probably should.”
He opened the door, and let her into the room made of the same wood as the exterior of the house, glossy black details punctuating the rustic look, making it feel somehow modern. The room was huge, square, with a ceiling so tall it brought her back to that place of smallness.
Of course, Jackson and all his height contributed to that, as well.
“We need to talk,” she said. “The way you left me... I wanted you to stay.”
“Yes, and I explained that I couldn’t.” His jaw was tight, his expression firm.
“Yeah, and you didn’t give me a good reason. So I’d like to hear it. I really would.”
Before she told him what she had to say, she wanted to know what he might say to her without that information.
“It’s complicated.”
“No. Complicated is having a crush on a man for years, then finding out he might be your half brother, then wanting to sleep with him anyway. Then finding out he’s not your half brother and sleeping with him for the duration of a thirty-day wager.
That’s complicated. So, we’ve been through complicated already, so whatever else you have on your mind, whatever else you have to tell me, is not going to touch that.
I think we can figure it out. Trust me when I say I’m pretty resilient. ”
“All right, Cricket,” he said. “You really want to have this conversation?”
“Yes. I do.”
“I don’t want to get married. I mean, what’s the point? It just two people being tied together for no particular reason that I can see.”
“So, why does there have to be marriage? Why can’t we just be together?”
“I would never want to be responsible for not loving someone enough. For doing to them what my father did to my mother. And at the end of the day, whether I admire or look up to him or not, I’m Cash Cooper’s son.”
“And I’m James Maxfield’s daughter, but I’m not going to sexually harass anyone. I’m not going to treat my kids like an afterthought and my wife...well, husband, like a trophy. It doesn’t matter whose son you are. What matters is what kind of man you are. And that’s your choice.”
“Okay then, it’s my choice not to put myself in a position where I could hurt someone that way.”
“So you don’t think you could love me.”
She stared at him, willing herself not to break his gaze. Not to be a wimp. She would brazen this out. She just would.
“It’s not you.”
“Oh, it’s not you, it’s me. Very original. You know, Jackson, I expected better from you. Better from us. For us. We are not like anyone else. So don’t be a cliché now.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you...”
“Another good one. Who writes your dialogue? Because it’s not very good.”
“I’m sorry.”
“And I’m pregnant.”