Chapter Twenty
As the VW van drives away, Jackson comes over, carrying a wine bottle and two glasses. He offers the bottle up. ‘I need a drink. Do you want one?’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t drink.’
He looks at me, then puts the glasses and the wine bottle down on the table behind him before moving over to the fire pit.
There’s a pile of driftwood at his feet and he grabs a couple of pieces and throws them on the embers, reigniting the fire.
The flames in the bowl flicker and leap, every loud crackle or pop sending streaks of bright orange flying up into the air along with wisps of smoke which wind their way to nothing.
‘Do you want to go for a walk on the beach?’
I look in the direction of the sea. It’s pitch black and the sound of the waves washing up on the sand is amplified in the silence. I don’t like the sea at the best of times, but find it menacing at night.
‘No. I don’t.’
His shoulders hunch as he keeps his head down and shuffles his feet, twisting them into the sand. The new driftwood in the fire bowl collapses with a sharp crackle, sending sparks flitting around the air again as if they’re alive.
I put my glass down and tip my head back and stare up into the inky blackness.
It’s peppered with pinpricks of stars and a perfect glowing chunky crescent moon.
I’m not sure what to say to him and I don’t want to make things worse.
I want him to talk to me, but the silence grows between us.
He won’t even look in my direction. I can’t stand the atmosphere any longer.
I stand. ‘If you’re not going to talk, I’m going in.’
His head snaps up. ‘Don’t go.’ He runs his fingers through the waves of his hair. ‘I don’t know what to say. I’ve apologised so many times in my head to you and now I’m here, I don’t know how to.’
That strikes a chord. I could have uttered that exact sentence myself. It stalls me.
His eyes are dark and haunted as he looks at me.
‘Just try,’ I say, willing him to keep talking.
He turns to face the fire again and it bathes his body in a moving orangey light as the flames shift and dance. I understand the need to look away as you talk. It’s easier.
‘I didn’t want to listen. I still can’t believe it’s true, even though deep down I knew it was.’ His voice is steeped in pain and anguish and it pierces my heart.
I walk over to stand by him and stare into the fire. There’s a gap between us, but I’m acutely aware of him next to me, as if there’s a current jumping back and forth between us.
‘I can’t imagine her not being here.’ His voice cracks and I can hear the tears. ‘She has so much life left to live. I wanted her to fight it. I thought she could.’ His voice fades.
‘There are some things no matter how hard you try, you can’t fight.’ I keep my eyes trained on the flames. ‘It’s not that she didn’t want to. She doesn’t want to leave you. It isn’t a punishment for not being good enough.’
‘I sometimes feel like if I could have been better. Looked after her more. Maybe if I’d …’
I don’t let him continue because he will only torment himself. I reach out and hold his arm. ‘She’s not choosing to leave, Jackson. She loves you and Milo. This isn’t her giving up. It’s her facing the inevitable.’
His head turns towards me and his eyes search mine.
‘I don’t want her to die,’ he repeats with a sob. Tears are falling down his face. ‘It’s not fair. Why does it have to be her?’
He sounds like a wounded animal and the pain in his eyes is taking a sledgehammer to my heart and shattering it into a million jagged pieces.
‘And I’m sorry for what I said to you. How I spoke to you. I should never …’
I pull him towards me and put both hands on either side of his face, his skin hot under my fingers. ‘You don’t have to apologise. I was wrong too.’ His stubble is spiky under my thumb. ‘I’m so sorry, Jackson.’ I know how debilitating this kind of hurt is. And if I could take it all away, I would.
The tears well in my own eyes. Empathy for him and Milo and Sophie and for my own loss. It’s as if the pain knows where to settle to hurt me the most because it’s been there so many times before. A tear spills over, leaving a warm trail in its wake.
‘No, Ellie. Please don’t get upset. Please. I didn’t mean to make you cry.’ He gently brushes my face dry. ‘I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I’ve got everything wrong.’
‘You haven’t. You’ve been there for your mum, for Milo. You’ve never run away from things when they’ve got hard.’ I don’t just mean about his mum, and I hope he knows that.
There’s quiet, apart from the waves crashing on the shore, and our eyes are locked together.
My hands move to his chest. It’s firm and warm underneath the fabric of his shirt and he smells of his familiar aftershave and there’s a hint of smoke there too.
His thumb runs down my face and comes to settle in the hollow of my neck, his touch burning into my skin.
His eyes sweep down my face and settle for a second on my mouth and I’m drawn to reach up and lay my hand on him.
I trace his cheekbone, my fingers skimming across his skin, and his intake of breath hisses.
My insides are melting and I’m thrown by how badly I want him.
We move at the same time and his lips press into mine.
It’s slow at first, as if both of us have forgotten how it works.
His tongue touches mine gently, almost as if he’s asking permission.
I moan and my tongue responds to his as our kiss becomes urgent.
His hand moves through my hair and cradles my head as I grip his shirt and pull him tight to me.
Any doubt I had has disappeared and my mind is full of his heat, his scent and his touch, which is searing a path across my body. We break apart, our breath coming hard and fast.
He runs his fingertips along my collarbone and then traces the line of my cleavage.
I push forwards, aching for his touch. I want to feel his skin against mine, and his hands still as I find the buttons of his shirt.
I undo them one by one, and he watches me as I work.
His shirt falls open, revealing his taut abs and an almost concave stomach.
The firelight dances across his smooth golden skin and I push his shirt off his shoulders and it drops to the floor.
Not for the first time, I think how beautiful he is.
I move to touch his chest, but he’s too quick for me and he holds my hand away, his fingers encircling my wrist, and heat fizzes through me.
‘I want to touch you first.’ His voice is low and I’m desperate for his touch.
He dips his head and his lips and teeth trail a path up my neck until he stops short of my lips.
He stares down at me, his eyes dark and searching, and I lean into him.
There’s still too much space between us, but he still has my wrist and he’s keeping us fractionally apart and it’s driving me crazy.
His breath is hot as he hovers his mouth tantalisingly close and my lips part wanting his kiss.
‘Kiss me.’ My voice is hoarse. ‘I want you to kiss you.’
He comes closer and I think I’m going to get my wish, but he doesn’t comply. Instead, his teeth nip at my bottom lip and I ache with desire.
‘God, Ellie.’ His voice is breathless and the way he says my name makes my heart stutter and my whole body aches to touch him.
He releases my hand and I wrap it around his neck, pulling his mouth to mine roughly.
My fingers tangle in his hair and our tongues dance against each other’s as our lips move.
His fingers dig into my hip and he pulls me to him until we’re touching.
His body is hard and lean against me and I rake my hands across his back, finally getting to feel his skin. It’s smooth and taut under my fingers.
My hands exploring his body still him, and he pulls back, uncertainty flickering across his face.
‘What is it?’ My chest cramps at the distance he’s put back between us. Doubts dash though my head. Did I read the signals wrong? Did I overstep the mark and take advantage of him while he was upset? Does he not want me?
‘Is this, OK?’ he asks hesitantly. He sounds as uncertain as I feel. ‘I don’t want to do anything you don’t want.’
‘You’re not. I want this.’ I find his hand and curl my fingers against his and tug him towards me. ‘I want you. Is that OK?’
‘That’s not something you have to ask, Ellie.’ His voice is deep and husky and his fingers tighten around mine.
I half look towards the building. ‘Are you coming in? It would stop us getting sand everywhere.’ My mouth tilts up into a tiny smile. ‘And it would get … everywhere.’
He reaches across and hooks his finger into the waistband of my jeans and pulls me the half step towards him. His fingers move slowly as he brushes a strand of hair away from my face. ‘I want you so badly.’
My breath catches in the back of my throat as he says the one thing I’ve wanted to hear him say.
I lead him through the café and front room and into my bedroom. The only light is the moonlight streaming in through the window and I kick my shoes off and get on the bed. He does the same and lies next to me, on his side, propped up on his elbow.
I reach over and run my fingers across his jaw.
His stubble is soft, but at the same time spiky to touch, and I can feel him studying me.
I avoid his eye contact and keep my focus on his face.
I move upwards and trail my fingertips across his skin, around his eye and up again.
His breathing is shallow and he’s impossibly still as my fingertips discover his face.
‘Has anyone told you how sexy this is?’ I circle the gold hoop in his eyebrow.
‘No.’
‘Well, it is.’ I slide my hand around his neck and tug him gently towards me. ‘Very sexy.’
He resists my pressure to pull him forwards and ducks his head out from my grasp.
‘My turn,’ he says, his face breaking into a suggestive smile.