Love and Relativity (13 page)

Maybe because I could feel myself on the verge of losing them.

“No, Jackson. I mean, yes. Yes and no.” The words sputtered from my lips and I was the one who shuffled forward this time, reaching for his hand. “It’s just...you might be content with staying here, with your dad in jail right up the road, and your mom buried close by, surrounded by your painful memories. But mine are too close for comfort for me, and if I’m going to be with someone again—in a committed relationship—then I need to be with someone who’s moving forward, not standing still.” As soon as I said it, my eyes snapped shut. Hearing them out loud sounded a billion times worse than hearing them in my head.

“I’m not good enough for you.” His chin dropped, his gaze fixating on the carpet near the bedroom door. His tension was thick. Suffocating. The veins in his forehead and neck were bulging, holding something back.

“No, Jackson.
No
. That’s not what I’m saying. Would I have told you what I did Saturday night if I thought that? We just want different things. Between that and our history with Jen’s death...it’s too much for me, can’t you understand?”

He laughed, a dry laugh that grinded at my bones like sandpaper. This was it. I’d insulted him, and there was no going back.

He licked his lips, his stance turning to steel.“Did it ever occur to you that I choose to stay around all of those memories because I feel I owe them something? My dad may be in jail, and sure, it fucking sucks to know his past is right here, in my present. But I can go visit him every now and then. Bring him lunch. And I can lay flowers on my mom’s grave every week. I can talk to her, tell her how sorry I am that I couldn’t make enough bagging groceries to pay for her medication, how sorry I am that I couldn’t save her. Oh, and that sailboat I told you about? It’s down there at the marina, and I can go clean it up and have a beer and watch the sunset whenever I want. It makes me feel closer to what I lost. If that’s standing still, then damn straight, I don’t want to move a foot from where I am.”

Like that, he was out my bedroom door, bringing my heart straight into my gut along with his exit.

“Jackson, please, wait.” Rushing after him, I could already feel the tears forming.
I need more time
. A million racing thoughts fired away and I grasped frantically for them, trying to grab one that would buy me just a few more minutes. He couldn’t leave like this. I needed to set things right, to show him I didn’t think him any less than me for his choice to stay on the island.

And then one of the thoughts hit me head on, lodging itself center stage, in clear view.

I might not have thought less of him, or more of my own aspirations, but I
did
disagree with him. I couldn’t see his decision for his future from the same point of view.
It’s loyal
, he’d said of staying on the island, the night we’d driven home from Orlando.
A commitment.
As much as I’d found his reasoning admirable, I didn’t think it was right.

Not for Jackson.

He was a free spirit, had big dreams, dreams to travel and sail the world, to never be tied down to one place for long. He’d given up those dreams—given up the core of who he was—entirely, over some sense of obligation to his parents. The worst part was it was all in vain. They’d already lost their lives, and he’d jumped in the sunken ship and joined them. I was wrong.

His spirit was anything but free.

“Jackson, please don’t go like this. I’m trying to explain, to be honest here. Stay and let’s talk about this.”

He grabbed his keys from the counter and opened the front door. I grabbed the side of it, my fist tightening around the doorknob. “When it comes to you not wanting to live with reminders of Jen around every corner...I
do
understand where you’re coming from, Emma. I know that it hurts you, and I can’t tell you how much it kills me to know that. But when it comes to your issues with me, though? No. No, I don’t understand. But you’re right. You’re going somewhere, and I’m not. You don’t need any more quicksand. I see that now.”

“Jackson, listen, I know you—”

“You don’t know me, Emma.” He pierced me with a hard glare, and then he was gone.

***

“He dropped the L word?!” Whitney whispered harshly as she shoved me in front of her, into the next hotel room. She peeked left and right to make sure no one saw us, then wheeled her cleaning cart inside. I didn’t bother mentioning that the hotel probably had security cameras. After Jackson had left, though, I needed to see her. This couldn’t wait.

“Hand me those pillowcases,” she said once we were inside. I turned to the supply cart and tossed the cases to her across the bed. I stood on the other side, with tear-stained cheeks and the book Jackson had given me cradled against my chest. She dressed two fresh pillows and then reached to tie her black hair up into a bun, shaking her head as she did. “Well, it’s worse than I thought.”

“What?” I squeaked.

“I knew the guy was crazy about you, but I thought it was just a long, drawn-out infatuation.”

“Wasn’t the point of me coming here for you to make me feel
better
about this?”

“Hey. We’re best friends, and you know the rules, girl. I’m not going to stand here and lie to you to save your pretty face from those tears.” She made her way around the end of the bed and wrapped me up in a tight hug. “I love you, Emma.” She pulled back some to look at me. “I hate to see you upset like this, but you have to face facts. He’s in love with you. Why he’s been carrying on as one of the Three Slutskateers to end up being capable of real love is beyond me, but hey, it gives me hope for Ruben someday, I guess.” She smiled and squeezed my shoulders. “You want my opinion? You did the right thing. You told him the truth, and really, what else can you do? Whether he can deal with it or not is his problem. I’m sorry, Em. I know it’s not what you want to hear. It sounds like deep down, Jackson’s not a bad guy. But you’re just not ready to dive into anything with him. If you were, you would’ve returned his declaration. You wouldn’t be standing here looking like hell.”

I wiped my cheeks and turned to look at myself in the mirror. “Thanks, Whit. I can always count on you to go easy on me.”

Her smile turned sympathetic, and she walked up behind me to rest her chin on my shoulder, meeting my eyes in the dresser mirror. “If he loves you, and it sounds like he does, then he’ll give you more time.”

“What if time isn’t what I need? I basically rejected him based on my belief that we’re too different. That’s not something that time can fix.”

“Then you still need time,” she said, smoothing my hair with one hand. “To see that you’re wrong.”

Part 2

Life

Chapter 7

My head hit the dining room table, shaking me from sleep—again. This was the third time I’d started dozing off while doing math homework. Math was the bane of my existence, which wasn’t particularly helpful as a biology major. I’d need to look into tutoring soon if I wanted to pull my grades up in time to graduate, but lately, time seemed to slip between my fingers at an uncanny, rapid rate. Between work, school, and homework, my thoughts were sandwiched between Jackson and when I’d man up enough to talk to him again.

He hadn’t spoken to me in weeks. I’d catch him staring at me at Pete’s from the pool table, while I sat with Whitney at the bar. Then a sad smile would paint his face and his gaze would drift away.

“
Mmmm
, I like having new eye candy around these parts,” Whitney said that Friday night over our basket of coconut shrimp. After my third failed attempt to finish my math homework, I gave in to sleep for an hour and then cleaned up and headed out to Pete’s to meet her. We were on our second round of drinks, and as usual, Jackson and his crew were having a grand old time betting over a game of pool. There was a new guy in town who’d joined them, and Jackson was all about playing the newbie host. “If you wanna get your mind off of Jackson, how about taking a bite out of
him
?” She glanced over her shoulder to ogle Mr. New Guy as he leaned over the pool table to take a shot. “Or maybe I should, since Ruben’s out of the picture. I hear he’s from Seattle. And he’s a musician.
Delish
.”

“Not your usual type,” I said, eyeing him curiously. He certainly wasn’t Latino, and he was thin instead of built like a linebacker, but his geek glasses and tattoo-covered arms were pretty damn sexy. “Wow, all the way from Seattle? Wonder what brought him here. Wait, what about Enrique?”

“
Meh
. He was getting too clingy. We’re better just friends. Speaking of just friends...”

“Stop right there.” I slid the shrimp basket to my side of the counter. She was hogging it all again. How a girl so tiny could eat so much was beyond me. “I’m not talking about him tonight.”

“Chill, sister. I told you I understand your reservations about Jackson. But he loves you. I think he means it. He hasn’t laid eyes on any of the usual barflies in weeks, and Jeff said he’s been cleaning his apartment. Like, with real bleach and everything. I can’t help it. Now I have a soft spot for the son of a bitch. Have you given it any more thought?”

I smiled at her, my gaze skirting her shoulder to sneak a peek at him. I sighed. “Of course I have. But it’s too late. I turned him down. I hurt him.”

“It’s definitely not too late. If he’s what you want, you need to march over there and tell him. Then drag him into the nearest elevator and have your way with him.” She lowered the volume of her voice and reached out to touch my hand. “I know he stirs up painful shit for you, Em, but Jen would want you to be happy. If even the tiniest part of you feels the same as he does, don’t let that happiness slip through your fingers. And just omit all of my previous comments about him being an asshat. I’ll support the Jackson Rash from here on out, scout’s honor.”

I bit down on my lip, eyes fixed on our hands.

“Thanks, Whit. I think I do...feel something. I’m just afraid it’ll change everything.”

“See?” She winked and smiled, releasing my hand to take a swig of her drink. “What would you do without me? Take it from me, girl. Fear is powerful, but nothing stings like regret. There’s only one way to find out if it
will
change everything. If it does, cross that bridge when you get to it. Right now, go with your instinct.”

“Maybe I’ll go talk to him.”

“That a girl!” She slapped my back and snatched the shrimp basket away, jerking her chin over her shoulder as she did. “Go make me proud. And hitch up that skirt to show the goods.”

Standing from my stool, I took a deep breath and steeled myself for whatever it was I was about to do. All I knew was I wasn’t ready to lose Jackson—as a friend, or anything else—and now that he’d had some time to cool off after he’d stormed out of my apartment, it couldn’t hurt to start mending. Or building. Whatever had to be done, it was up to me to make a move. He’d let me know where he stood.

As my eyes set on his from across the room, a strange, sweet ache bloomed in me, one buried there by him. It unfurled and spread, sending butterflies fluttering through my stomach, calling me to reason that I might feel what he felt for me. But my gut still remained uncertain about taking that big of a risk. One that would not only chance hurting my heart, but my future and the memories of my past, too. It was a pain that I’d chosen to avoid for the past year, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face it.

His eyes were about to drift from mine again, but when I didn’t release them, he did a double take, a hint of surprise lifting his brows. He ran his thumb along his bottom lip and tilted his head, motioning for me to come to him, a soft smolder in his irises.

That look was all the confirmation I needed. He still wanted me. And I wanted him. He said I’d never be just another girl to him. Maybe it was time I tried taking him at his word. He’d been pursuing me from the very first time I bumped into him at Pete’s, after all.

I remembered that night like it was yesterday.

Chris and I had decided to try out a new karaoke joint on the island and had wandered into the bar. While Chris approached Pete to order for us, I went to look for the restroom.

“You might not want to go in there just yet,” Jackson had said, his smile widening as he sized me up in the restroom hallway. He blocked the ladies’ room door, leaning casually against the wall with his arms folded.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“A friend of mine is in there with a lady friend of his, and well, they’re indisposed at the moment.”A roll of laughter echoed from behind the door, and he winked. “I’d give it ten more minutes.” Next came a loud bang. Then more laughter. “Okay, maybe five.”

“I’ll just use the men’s,” I said, turning for the other end of the hall.

“Hey,” his voice followed me, “you can’t just waltz into the men’s room.”

I stopped in front of the door and twisted around to face him. “Oh? I can’t? Is another one of your friends and his lady friend indisposed in this room as well?”

He snorted and shrugged. “Possibly. Either way, this is the South. I don’t know where you come from,” he smirked, eyes dropping to my chest, then my waist, “because I’ve never seen you around here, but we have manners in the South.”