Love and Relativity (20 page)

Yet discontentment prickled my skin, knowing I was still at fault for something else entirely. I was a coward and I was selfish, and those were weights I was meant to bear.

“Let’s go,” Jackson said, catching my distant gaze. It swept over me and turned me cold all over again, rendering the work I’d put into warming up in the truck useless. “Chocolate with sprinkles,” he told the man behind the counter once we were inside, “and cherries, and nuts...and just all that shit right there.” He pointed to the whole ice cream topping bar with a shrug, leaving the cashier a bit perplexed as to how to ring him up. The man started jamming buttons faster than he could keep up, the register’s ding sound sparking echoes in the small shop.

“Jack, I don’t need all that,” I whispered into his shoulder, working to cover my grin.

“I know, that’s mine. Takes them forever to make, so I ordered it first.” He waved to the cashier again. “Uh, and just plain vanilla with hot fudge for her.” One final ding rang from the register, and Jackson paid the man. For a split second, I wanted to offer to pay, knowing Jack’s financial situation, but held my tongue, figuring it would hurt his pride.

Then it dawned on me. Jackson hadn’t talked much about his financial situation since he moved to live on his boat. “Hey, baby?” I asked when we sat down to eat our ice cream. The front of his shirt already revealed a dribble of red, gooey sauce and colorful sprinkles. “So what have you been saving money for, exactly?”

“I’m not sure yet. I have a few ideas.”

“What kind of ideas?”

He held my gaze for a moment and then looked down at the table. “I don’t know, maybe get a house, do something...different.”

“What was wrong with your apartment? Didn’t you like the place?”

“I did. Things change.” He cleared his throat, standing to grab some napkins from the counter. I watched him stuff a handful of them into his pocket, and I took small spoonfuls of my ice cream and mashed them around in the bowl. “How goes the school search?” he asked when he returned to the table. “It’ll be the New Year before you know it. Don’t you have to make a decision soon if you want to continue classes next fall?”

“Yeah, I’m just weighing my options. I still haven’t heard from my first-pick university, though. Guess I’m secretly holding out on it.”

“It’s not really a secret.”

“Huh?”

“Everyone knows you’re still banking on that school in Washington. It’s not a secret.”

“Oh.”

His tone softened and he reached over the table to squeeze my knuckles. “I hope you get in, Em. I hope you get everything you want. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, Jack. That means a lot. I hope so, too.” Squeezing back, I smiled. “I’m already halfway there.”

The next stop after the ice cream parlor turned out to be the florist. I waited in the truck, toying with my Kindle while Jackson ran inside. The rain continued to drench the windshield, breaking my concentration. I turned off the Kindle and shoved it in my bag, wondering what had brought on Jackson’s change in mood back at the ice cream parlor. He’d turned sullen, almost disengaged, barely saying a word since the time we left to drive to the florist shop. I mentally picked through our conversation, trying to pinpoint what could have brought on the shift.

Maybe mentioning his money situation struck a chord. Hearing about my potential out-of-state college plans could’ve dampened his mood, as well.
No
, I thought. It was too soon to be thinking like that. We could cross that bridge when we got to it. If I did leave the state, it didn’t mean we’d have to break up. And besides, I’d already allowed a relationship—or the ending of one—to get in the way of my academic plans once before. Been there done that. It wouldn’t happen again. Jackson and I would just have to find a way to make a long-distance relationship work, if that were the case.

“Okay, off we go,” he said, ducking from the rain and into the truck. He set a large bouquet of lilies and irises onto the seat between us, a sad smile on his lips. “This isn’t exactly romantic, but it’s Sunday. Sunday’s my day to—”

“Oh, of course,” I said, remembering his mother’s favorite flowers. “It’s okay, I’m happy to go with you.”

“You sure?” He started the engine.

“I’m positive. I’m honored you’d take me to see her...I know it’s a personal thing.”

“Thanks, Em.”

The cemetery was bathed in broken sunlight, the clouds from the afternoon rainstorm choppy and cracked, sending the light filtering through their fluffy puffs of gray. The flowers in one hand and my arm in the other, Jackson led me to a shaded plot, tucked away beneath a large oak tree, on the end of the lawn. A weeping angel statue hovered over Sara’s stone, its arms clasped together and thrown forward, extending out, as if to cover the grave below. The angel’s long, curled stone locks rested wistfully against her collarbone, her wings spread wide, their ends sagging slightly, carrying the weight of her grief. Somberness trickled over me, tangling me in its rough web, and the pang in my chest forced me to stop walking. Jen’s grave was on the island’s cemetery, not here, but it had been a while since I’d visited it. Jackson visited his mother’s every week. What did that say about me?

“You okay?” Jackson asked, looking between me and his mom’s grave.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

Understanding swept his face. “Hey,” he said, pulling me closer, “I’ve got you.”

I brushed a tear from the corner of my eye and pointed to the flowers. “They’re beautiful, Jack. I think they’re my favorite, too.”

“Oh, yeah?” He released me and knelt down in the grass, taking what I guessed was last week’s withered bouquet from the stone’s edge, replacing it with the fresh one. Before he stood, he pulled two flowers from the new bouquet with his fingers. “For you,” he said, rising to his feet. He gently snapped the lily from its stem, then slipped it over my ear. Next, he plucked a piece of the iris from its stem and fastened it over my heart, between my shirt and hoodie zipper. “And for Jen.”

“Thank you.”

“Emma Pierce, meet my mom, Sara. Mom, meet Emma, love of my life.” He gestured to the grave at our feet. Misty rain painted droplets of dew over our cheeks and arms as we stood there, staring down at Sara’s resting place. Jackson’s introduction teased another tear down my cheek, but I captured the sob, wanting to keep myself in check. This meeting was important to him, and I wasn’t about to take that from him.

“Hi, Sara. It’s great to meet you. Your son speaks very highly of you.”

“This is where she’d say, ‘He better. He put me through eighteen hours of hellish labor.’”

“Why am I not surprised you made her delivery difficult?” I forced a smile, biting down on my lip.

“I guess I made a lot of things difficult for her.”

Oh, no.
My attempt at a lighthearted stab was useless. He scanned Sara’s angel, hands in his pockets, gaze lost in thought.

My tone was earnest this time. “What do you mean?”

“Just...when things started going downhill, I’m sure I didn’t make things easy on her in those last days.”

“I’m sure she loved you and forgave you for whatever you put her through. You told me you worked to help with the medical bills. And this was during your freshman year in high school, right? She knew you were a kid, doing the best you could.”

“I was trouble, Emma. Even then. Especially then.”

“You were acting out, just as any kid who was losing his mom to cancer would.”

“Not every kid starts stealing and carting around hookers for his dad to make ends meet in high school. I partied with them, came home drunk...you name it, Em. I did it. I convinced myself that I was doing the right thing by helping my dad earn money. I really should have been spending my time at home, with my mom, while she was there. I could have given her so much more of my time. I still hate thinking about that shit.”

“That’s understandable, Jack. It’s true, those circumstances were a bit...unconventional.” I stepped forward to stand next to him, side by side. “But you didn’t ask for that. You were a kid. A lost, heartbroken, scared kid. And everyone deals with that in different ways. Some lash out.” I swallowed hard, jarred by the clarity, realizing just how much baggage Jackson had been carrying around since his mother’s death.

It explained so much about him.

He wasn’t just this hotheaded, fun-loving womanizer the island had come to know him as. It was clear to me now, looking at the distress on his face—so raw, so tender—that his reputation wasn’t just a facade. He wasn’t this broken, tormented soul putting on a front for the town.

There was no front. Only honesty.

Everything about Jackson’s behavior screamed hurt. From the fights and empty one-night stands to his drained bank account and the thoughtless property damage, his actions were hotwired by affliction. They might have been masked in carelessness and a smile, but he wasn’t trying to deceive anyone. The mask was real—a 100 percent genuine coping mechanism.

“Lash out? That’s putting it mildly.”

“You’ve made mistakes. Who hasn’t? Some are just heavier than others. And you’re not proud of them, that’s what matters. You shouldn’t want to take them back, because they’re a part of you, they made you who you are. Don’t regret them. But you know they hurt you and others, and that’s a sign of a conscience, Jackson. A heart. You’re human—an imperfect, frail human. Maybe it’s time you start treating yourself like one. You’re not going to get it all right, all the time.” Releasing a soft sigh, I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth, struck by the magnitude of my hypocrisy. “I’m ready to read the obituary, you know. I meant to tell you, the first day I came to find you on your boat. Wanted to read it with you, actually.”

His eyebrows rose. “Really? That’s great news, Em. Wait, why didn’t you?”

“Someone dragged me into the ocean and it was destroyed in my shorts pocket.”

“Ahhh, I see.” He threaded his fingers through mine. “Well, just say when. Whenever you’re ready to grab another copy and do it, I’ll be right next to you. So...you ready to head home?”

“Now? We just got here.”

“It’s cool,” he shrugged, jutting his chin toward the grave’s flowers. “I did what I came to do. I’m glad you met my mom.”

“I am, too.” I smiled. “Let’s do this again sometime, Sara,” I said, peering past him to acknowledge the stone. Turning away, I started toward Jackson’s truck, thankful to be heading home.

***

“Who knew Jackson was such a math whiz kid?” Whitney peeked over my shoulder, eyeing my homework. I was huddled over a pile of assignments I’d put off—unwisely, right before finals—working to finish them off before Carter came by to pick up Whitney.

“Yup. The boy has mad skills.” And thank God he did. Turned out, the one subject Jack was best at was math, which was a real lifesaver when I could barely divide properly. He’d been a great tutor. All week, I’d been consumed with crunching for finals, pulling extra shifts for some Christmas money, and all-things Jackson. When he wasn’t tutoring me, we were on the beach, on his boat, or making futile attempts to keep Ruben away from Whitney.

Tonight, I had plans to go to Jackson’s to help him put the finishing decorative touches on his boat, while Carter and Whitney had plans for dinner and a movie. He’d finally cleaned and organized it—mostly thanks to my obsessive neat freak ways—and had created an almost livable space to call home, but I wouldn’t be going anywhere if I didn’t finish this mountain of assignments.

“I’m gonna wash these dishes while you finish up,” Whitney said, skirting around me to move to the sink. “Oh, hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Before Carter gets here, I wanted to ask you to go to Seattle with me in May. He invited me to be his date at his friend Kate’s wedding, and I could use the support. He asked Kate if you and Jackson could come, and she said yes.”

“Support for what?” I looked up from my papers, confused. “You’ll be with Carter.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know how I feel about this Kate chick. From the little bit I’ve gathered from Carter, she really did a number on him. He moved down here to get away from her. He won’t say it, but I know he did. Who flies clear across the country to get away from someone like that? It makes me wonder if I’m just some weird rebound or something, that’s all.”

“He wanted to get away from her, but he says she’s still his best friend?”

“So he says.” She shrugged. “I don’t get it. Which is why I want you with me. I need your help feeling her out, putting the pieces together. I think it’s too soon for me to be prying, asking him about all of the details, you know? If he wanted me to know, I think he’d tell me. He’s holding back for a reason.”

“Well, whatever the reason is, it’s no reason to distrust him. You’re not a rebound. I can tell he’s really into you, Whit. He wouldn’t ask you to this wedding as his date if he had something to hide. Besides, this Kate chick is getting married. No worries.”

“I hope you’re right. Because he makes me crazy. I haven’t felt this way since...Adam.” She stilled, frying pan and sponge in hand. “He doesn’t baby me, he’s not some macho ape trying to tell me how to live my life. He supports me, lets me be me. I like that.”

“I do too.”

“Only...”

“What is it?”