32. Georgia
Chapter thirty-two
Georgia
Three weeks later…
“I’d think you’d be happier today since you’re finally getting released. Are you going to miss the hospital food?” Doctor Phillips steps up to my bedside, and I force a smile. Jackson is on a call by the window but rushes off as soon as he sees the doctor.
“It’s really the hospital gowns I’m gonna miss.”
“Ah, there’s my peppy patient. Well, everything looks good. We’ve transferred all your rehabilitation instructions to the personal trainer Mr. Blake has hired. You’ve been instructed on all medications. How are the headaches?”
“Still there.”
“It’ll take some time. Very common with head trauma. I can’t express enough how lucky you are to be alive.”
“Yeah, yeah. Real lucky.” I make the mistake of glancing at Jackson. His expression is blank, but I see the constant guilt that’s been in his eyes. The past three weeks have been hell. I’d say it all started when I got hit by a car, but my problems began way before that. I ruined Jackson and Noah’s relationship for good. Noah walked out of my hospital room and never returned. He stopped answering my calls and shut his phone off completely.
A few days later, Jackson was notified that Noah had made a large withdrawal. According to the surveillance, he packed a bag and boarded a flight to Amsterdam. Neither of us has heard from him since. The guilt of what we did is weighing so heavily on us both that it’s becoming suffocating. Then everything Noah blurted out before storming off has been spinning in my mind. I know he despises his dad, but how can I not feel anxious about what might happen if what he told me was the truth?
What if I’m risking everything for a man who will get bored of me in a month? A year? What if he’s only doing this out of obligation? I can’t stop thinking about how this ends. This isn’t a fairy tale. We don’t get to ride off into the sunset. We’ll have to deal with society judging us. What will his friends think? Colleagues, coworkers? What if I’m not suited for his sophisticated world?
I’m second-guessing everything.
And part of me feels like Jackson is pulling away because of it. It’s me giving him an out, and he’s taking it.
In the midst of all this, Mom told me she has cancer. Stage four breast cancer. For the past year, she tried to tell me. Call after call, I refused to pick up. I couldn’t give her a second of my time so she could tell me she was dying. What kind of daughter does that? I could have cherished that time with her. But I was too consumed by my anger to listen. And now, I hate myself for it. I could have taken leave from school to be closer.
She stayed a few more days, but the visit took a toll on her. To my surprise, Jackson set up in-home chemo treatments and connected her with the best oncologist money could buy. He even covered all the medical bills. Later that night, he held me as I cried myself to sleep. While I was tearing his family apart, he was saving mine.
With Noah gone, my mom’s cancer, and dealing with Vince’s death and his mother somehow still not behind bars, I was drained. Jackson, too, is barely holding on. He hasn’t slept in days, and the exhaustion in his eyes and on his unshaven face is unmistakable, though I find his scruff strangely appealing. He walks over, placing a kiss on my forehead. “That was your mom’s oncologist. Chemo seems to be helping. Her blood cell count is finally on the rise.”
Dr. Phillips chimes in, handing Jackson a form. “See? Good news all around. Take care of yourself, Georgia.”
“Thanks, Doc. You too.” Then he’s gone.
“You ready?” Jackson asks.
No. “Yeah.”
“Let me help you.” Rolling a wheelchair toward me. “Hospital policy.”
He settles me into the chair and wheels us out. Outside, William is ready and waiting with the car, a warm smile on his face.
“Morning, Miss Price,” he greets with a slight nod.
“Hey, William.” They help me into the car. My body is still extremely sore, and I’m still getting used to the awkward bulk of my leg cast. The ride home is quiet, tension filling the car, and Jackson takes a call. I can’t help but feel it’s an excuse to avoid conversation.
When we arrive at his estate, he helps me inside. The house feels different now. Empty without Noah. Jackson gently sets me up on the couch in the media room, arranging the pillows to ensure I’m comfortable. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? I can make you something or order in.”
“I’m fine. I just want to lie down.”
“Right. Let me get you upstairs—”
“No. Here’s fine. This way, I can watch TV.”
His smile wavers. It’s clear he knows I’m avoiding going to the bedroom with him. “All right. How about a movie?”
“I just want to take a nap.”
“Right. Okay,” he says softly. “I’ll leave you be. I’ll be in my office finishing up some work.” He steps forward, places a lingering kiss on my forehead, and walks away without another glance. The quiet retreat of his footsteps stirs that uncertainty inside me, and the tears I’ve been holding back spill over. They’ve been doing that a lot lately. I rest my head against the pillow and close my eyes. Tears fall as I drift into a restless sleep.
Jackson
We’ve been home for weeks now, circling each other, caught in this agonizing limbo. I keep telling myself it’s not true, but deep down, I know better. She doesn’t want this anymore. I can feel it—her pulling away, bit by bit. And the harder I try to hold on, the more she slips through my fingers.
So, I stopped trying.
But stepping back doesn’t bring relief. It sends my mind spiraling into darker places. I’m a wreck—unable to focus, unable to function. Work has become a distant memory, an afterthought. All I can think about is her and the inevitability of when she’ll ask to leave. The thought alone feels like a blade twisting in my chest. I don’t know how to handle it. The helplessness is eating me alive.
Frustration boils over, and I slam my empty bourbon glass onto the desk. A knock sounds at the door, and I mutter, “Come in,” my voice a mix of exhaustion and alcohol. The door creaks open, and Georgia hobbles inside.
“Did you need something?” I ask, my tone distant. It’s easier this way, I tell myself. Accept that she wants out instead of pretending. Keeping her here only prolongs the inevitable.
“I wanted to see if you were hungry.”
“I’ve already eaten. But I had Jefferson come in while you were asleep and make you a plate.”
“Oh.” Her eyes glimmer with disappointment.
“Don’t look so disappointed. You haven’t wanted to eat with me for days. I was doing you a favor.”
Her brows knit together. “That’s not true. I just haven’t been feeling well.”
“Or you’ve been tired or not hungry or any other fucking excuse you’ve had to avoid me.” I grab my decanter and refill my glass with a hefty pour. The liquid sloshes, matching the bitterness in my tone. “Don’t worry. You got your wish again tonight.”
“What’s your problem? Why are you being such an asshole?”
I laugh angrily. “Asshole? Not the word I would choose, but sure. We’ll go with that.” I take a long swig. “Anything else?”
“Yeah. Go to hell.” She spins on her crutches to leave, and something in me snaps. Before I can stop myself, I hurl my glass across the room. It shatters against the bookshelf, splintering into jagged pieces.
“I’m already in hell!” I roar. Her body stiffens, and she shifts her weight to face me. “Since that day—the day I saw you believe Noah—I’ve been in hell.” I pause, fighting to collect myself, but it’s useless. “Every single day. Watching you pull away. Losing faith in me. Doubting me. It’s been hell.”
“I never said I—”
“You didn’t need to,” I snap. “I can feel it. See it in the way you look at me. Or, should I say, don’t look at me. You want out. I get it—”
“I never said—”
“You don’t have to!” I cut her off. “Just fucking say it, Peach. Say you’re done with me. Fucking say it so I can stop torturing myself.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “I don’t want to leave.”
“Then what is it?” I ask, desperation lacing every word. “What did I do wrong?”
“I’m scared, okay!” she blurts out. “I’m scared that what Noah said is true. That I’m nothing but a toy to you until you get bored. I’m terrified you’ll just toss me out one day, as if I don’t matter. I’m fucking scared because I gave you my heart, and tomorrow, next week, a month, you’re going to rip it to shreds—”
“I would never—”
“I don’t know that!” she yells. “I don’t know how we work, and it scares the hell out of me. I can’t breathe when I think about not being with you, but what if that’s where we’re headed? What if that’s our destiny?”
I can’t stand to hear another second of her what-ifs . Pushing out of my chair, I close the distance between us and gently grasp the back of her neck, pulling her into me. “That’s not going to happen,” I growl with conviction.
Tears glisten in her eyes. “You don’t know that.”
I grip her chin, forcing her eyes to meet mine. “I do. Because I’d burn the world down to keep you. To love you and hold on to what’s mine.”
“I am yours. But I’m not sure it’s enough.”
I release her chin, gently swiping away her tears with the back of my hand. “I can’t predict the future, Peach. But what I do know is what I want, and I’m staring right at her. I want this.” I cradle her face, brushing my thumb lightly along her cheek. “And this,” I murmur, tracing her lips. “Always this.”
I pull her closer, my hand sliding up the curve of her waist. “Most importantly…” I move my hand higher, resting it over her heart. “This… I love you, Georgia. That will always be constant.” I press my palm harder against her chest, grounding us both in the weight of my words. “I promise I’ll take care of you. Make sure you’re always happy. Fulfilled. Loved.” I pause. “And I know you’re scared because of what Noah filled your head with. But when it comes to his mom, he only knows one side of the story. The version I let him believe because it’s what’s best. But everything I’ve done for him has come from the right place.”
I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything I need to say. I need her to understand, to truly grasp how she owns every part of my being. “This—what we have—I’m going in blind too. This is all new to me, too, Peach. I’ve never felt like my heart is being ripped from my chest for the fear of losing you. The fear of not having you in my arms for the rest of my life. Tell me what to do to make you understand. Tell me what I need to—”
“Just kiss me.”
Her words are all I need. I take her mouth, needing to taste her. My tongue finds hers, and I kiss her like a man starved.
“I just want to be enough for you.”
“Peach, you’re more than enough,” I murmur as I gently lift her into my arms. “You’re my everything. Without you, I’m completely lost.”
I carry her upstairs to my bedroom, holding her as if she’s the most delicate treasure in the world, and lay her on the bed, my eyes never leaving hers. “Jackson,” she whispers, and I know exactly what she’s asking for. I slide her sweatpants down her legs, smoothly over her cast, followed by her panties. I do my best to be gentle, but it’s been too long since I’ve had her in my mouth. “You’re already glistening for me, Peach.”
“Always,” she moans, her back lifting off the bed at my first swipe over her pussy.
“Tell me how much you missed my mouth on your pretty cunt.”
“So much. More.” I suck her lips into my mouth and slip two fingers into her warmth. Her moans are the finest wine, the most potent drug. I work her faster, knowing she needs this as much as I do. Her walls squeeze my fingers, and I add another… then another. Her pussy starts to convulse around my fingers. I tear off my slacks and slide into the most beautiful place in the world, needing to feel her around my cock. Our moans are in sync as I fuck her, slow and deep.
“Say it, Peach. Tell me while I stroke my cock in and out of my pussy.”
“I love you, Jackson.”
Fuck, that’s music to my ears. I grip her hips, working deeper, fighting not to hurt her.
“Love you, Peach. You’re mine. For a goddamn lifetime.” I fuck her until she’s delirious. Then I make the sweetest kind of love to her as she imprints herself onto my soul.