Chapter 31 #2
The kid whose face was buried in his hands looked up at his mom. “Please, Mom? Just once?” She was looking down at him with regret, like she really wanted to say no. We were two strangers, and she had no reason to trust us.
“You can watch us from the gate,” Jackson said as he attempted to ease her apprehension. She looked up at Jackson again, and he shoved his hand toward her. “I’m Jackson, by the way.”
She accepted his hand, and agreed to let the boys go on one race with us. Both boys, who quickly introduced themselves as Elio and Oli, bolted over to the line. We played I spy with them until it was our turn to get in the go-karts.
We raced around the track, the boys waving to their mom from the gate each time we did a lap. When the boys ran back to their mom after, she thanked us before they left to play in the arcade.
I put an arm around Jackson’s waist on our way over to the bumper boats, leaning my head against his side like we were a couple. “That was really sweet of you, Jackson.”
He rubbed a thumb across the skin above my waistband. “They reminded me so much of my nephews. That was fun.”
Jackson had always been a protector; it was one of his best qualities.
He had always taken care of the people he loved, including me.
Why had I forced myself to forget that? I wanted to see him with his nephews now—to be a part of that life with him.
It was hard to push away the image once I let myself picture it.
At the bumper boats we drenched each other in water. We were the two oldest people, surrounded by a group of teenagers who were good sports about Jackson spraying every last one of them.
We played a round of mini-golf to dry ourselves in the sun after, Jackson beating me by at least ten points because the asshole ended up getting two holes-in-one back-to-back.
I could feel my shoulders getting sunburnt, and I knew that freckles were likely appearing on my cheeks, but I didn’t care. I was having the time of my life with Jackson.
In the arcade, we hogged a game where you had to throw baseballs at clowns and knock them down. We cheated by grabbing more baseballs from the identical game next to it just so we could get all the clowns down and win the jackpot.
We spent the entirety of our tickets on pouches of sour gummy worms, which ended up being way more than we could ever eat. Jackson and I ended up giving them to random people in the park.
On our way back to the beach to watch the sunset, we stopped to get tacos. We ate them in the tailgate of his truck while we watched the last of the beachgoers pack up.
“DAISIES” by Justin Bieber was playing from someone’s speaker, and we swayed to the music while we ate our food.
We took one last walk at the water’s edge, our shoulders bumping together as we walked through the sand. Jackson was digging for shells, but I couldn’t. I didn’t know if it was a smart idea to let myself have a memento from this day.
I watched the last of the sun’s rays reflect off the water as I spun the wristband from the amusement park around my wrist, knowing I should throw it out sooner rather than later.
We raced back to the truck, kicking up sand and pushing each other to try to beat the other. He grabbed me at the waist and spun me in a circle to prevent me from winning, both of us laughing so hard we barely had the strength to run anymore.
He pulled down the back hatch for us to sit, and he hopped up before grabbing my hand and helping me step up.
I sat with my knees pulled up to my chest, leaning against Jackson for warmth as his legs dangled off the edge, his arm wrapped around my shoulder.
His fingers were trailing up and down my sunburnt arms, leaving small bursts of warmth beneath my skin.
His other hand was holding mine in his lap, his thumb brushing along my knuckles. I let myself have this moment with him.
The orange sky turned to pink before magically turning to a light purple as the sun slipped away. The most beautiful ending to a tragically perfect day.
The lighthouse flickered on, and we watched it for another moment, not ready to leave yet, even though the parking lot was now empty.
I felt a kiss against the side of my head. “Let’s go home,” Jackson whispered in my ear.
Home.
Maybe this place could actually be my home again. Jackson could be my home again. If I knew I could have a day like this with him again, I would stay here in a heartbeat.
I felt euphoric on the drive home. We were singing along to “Bored to Death” by blink-182, nowhere near tired after the day we spent together. I didn’t want it to end—I wanted this forever, like it was always supposed to be.
When we pulled onto my street, “Wait” by Knuckle Puck began, and it felt all wrong as we sang the words.
It was telling me everything I already knew, but didn’t want to believe.
I ignored the lyrics, because Jackson was attainable, and he was choosing me again.
That’s what today proved, right? It was a taste of what we could have, and I didn't want to lose him a second time.
We pulled into my driveway, and Jackson put the truck in park. I stared up at the house, pushing away the memory of the last time he dropped me off in this exact same spot ten years ago. I wanted more; I needed so much more. This couldn’t be the end again. “Thanks for today, Jackson.”
The song “a little more time” by ROLE MODEL began playing, and it felt right for this moment. That was all we needed—just a little more time together, to figure everything out. Jackson let out a long breath of relief.
“I haven’t had a day this perfect in a long time,” Jackson said as he turned to face me.
I looked at him, and there was that smile again; that genuine smile and those dark-brown eyes that were pleading for me to come to him.
The bridge of his nose was sunburnt, his dark hair windswept from the beach, and he looked absolutely perfect sitting across from me in this truck.
His eyes dropped down to my lips, and I decided I didn’t want to live another second without tasting him again.
Jackson was still the only thing on my mind as I slid closer to him in the truck. Nothing else existed to me when I started to lean in.
Jackson began to fully turn his body toward me, but he bumped the car’s horn in the process, startling both of us.
We laughed, feeling like inexperienced teenagers about to hook up for the first time.
He reached an arm forward and cupped my face in his palm, his thumb rubbing back and forth.
I couldn’t stop smiling at him as I reached forward to finally touch his collarbone.
My hand never made it, because his phone started to ring on the seat between us.
Sophie-my darling fiancée appeared on the screen.
He dropped his hand, and I snapped mine back so quickly that my elbow hit the window. I was punched with a dose of reality.
Jackson still had a fiancée. He was still getting married.
And he was still the eighteen-year-old boy that had cracked my heart in two.
And to top it all off, he was about to become a cheater.
This felt like high school all over again—Jackson fucking with my feelings while he had Sophie.
What was I thinking? We were almost thirty; how were we falling into these old patterns?
He looked up at me, an apologetic expression covering his features. He reached for me again and I flinched back, leaning against the door. “Addie, I—”
“No touching,” I forced myself to say, even though my voice cracked from holding back hot, angry tears.
I opened the truck’s door and hopped down, running toward my front door.
He was so fucking far out of reach, and I was a fool for thinking any different.
I locked the deadbolt the moment I shut it.