Love and Relativity (28 page)

It wasn’t my business anymore.

Over the next few weeks, I’d trudged through work and three different Christmas parties—one thrown by my employer, one by the hotel Whitney worked at, and one by Carter’s boss. He hosted it on the dock, outside the maintenance shop. The decor consisted of Santa-hat-clad pink flamingos and cocktails served in coconut shells. Jackson had fallen off the map entirely, and as much as it depressed me, I was thankful for his absence. Because we shared some of the same friends, hangouts, and shopping centers, it was a relief to not worry about bumping into him at every turn. Not that I had to worry about that with Pete’s. From what I’d heard, Jackson hadn’t been hanging there at all, just as he’d vowed, and even Jeff and Ruben had been making themselves scarce. Still, Whitney and I stayed away from Pete’s, too, opting to spend our Friday night’s at Will’s Crab Shack on the north end of the island instead.

By the time New Year’s Eve rolled around, I was more than ready to welcome the new year and all the hope it promised. Just one more semester, with only two more classes to complete, and I’d graduate with my associate’s degree. Then it’d be time to leave for Seattle. I’d spent New Year’s Eve day with my mom fleshing out the final plans for the move, knowing May would be here before I knew it. I wanted to be as prepared as possible before my last semester of school started. We’d decided to put most of my things in storage so I could start fresh the moment I got to Seattle, and we aligned my move date with the Friday before Carter’s friends’ wedding to kill two birds with one stone. We’d arranged it so I’d fly out with Whitney and Carter that day, go to the wedding the next morning, and then spend the rest of the week getting settled in my new apartment. Since Carter knew the area, he was more than happy to offer to show me around and help me find some cheap furniture.

Now it was time to ring in the New Year and bid farewell to the whirlwind of a year I’d had.

“Did you hear?” Whitney asked, rushing up to me with a sparkly New Year’s party hat when I arrived at Carter’s apartment. His place was actually a tiny flat nestled above the boat maintenance shop he worked at, under lease to him by his boss. People were clustered together on the little terrace near the windows, smoking cigarettes and laughing, their breath and trails of smoke visible in the chilly night air. Strings of lights decorated the terrace railing, and Kurt Cobain’s voice filled the small space.

“Hear what?” I asked, slipping out of my sweater. I spotted Carter handing his friends some beer near the miniature fridge in the corner, and I smiled and waved to thank him for inviting me.

“About Jackson’s boat,” Whitney said, pulling my gaze back to hers. She was decked out in a tight, red little number, her jet-black hair loose and wild, for once free from its usual messy bun. Her make-up was immaculate, green irises bright, and taking in her glowing complexion, I couldn’t help but be happy for my friend. So much of that glow was thanks to Carter.

“No, what are you talking about?”

“They found out who started the fire.”

“They did?” I gasped and reached out to touch her shoulder. “Well, who was it? Is Jackson going to press charges?” I bit back a groan of frustration at the fact that since the break-up, any news about Jackson was delivered to me through Whitney or Carter. I knew it was for the better, but every now and then, when they’d fill me in on a movie they’d seen together or the latest job he was considering, I couldn’t help but feel my heart jump-starting in my chest, springing to life at any mention of him.

“It just made the evening news. It was someone from the club he worked at. I guess he owed them money ages ago and they had it out for him.”

“Oh my God...”

“Yeah, how ballsy of them to do that in broad daylight, first thing in the morning, right?”

“I can’t believe it. I mean, I guess I can...but yeah, that’s bold. How is Jackson, is he okay? Did they announce the person’s name?” Memories of Natasha’s visit rang clear in my mind, instantly causing me to wonder whether she was responsible for this.

“Apparently the dumbass thought it’d look more like an accident if he set it on fire during the day. Less suspicious or something. Not sure where the logic is in that, but whatever. Can’t remember his name. All I heard was it was some dude that worked at the club, and he wasn’t the only one with a grudge against Jackson. The police are saying the guy has been arrested on charges of arson, and they think he had several accomplices, or something like that. I haven’t seen Jackson since the news hit. Come to think of it...” she turned and scanned the room, eyes searching for him, “I haven’t seen any sign of him tonight.”

“Looking for Jack?” Carter appeared by her side, adjusting his glasses and slipping an inked arm around her waist.

“Yeah, is he not hanging here tonight?”

Carter looked to me, then back to Whitney, raising a hand to run his thumb across his lip, grazing over the small pewter ring that pierced it at the corner, a nervous tic I’d learned he’d possessed. “I’m not sure,” he said. “He took off a while ago for the police station and didn’t say when he’d be back.”

“Maybe he has other New Year’s plans,” I said, attempting a nonchalant shrug. I didn’t want to think about what those plans might be. At the same time, it would take some of the edge off to know I might not have to see him tonight. I’d stressed out over the possibility all day at work, no matter how many times Whitney had texted me trying to assure me that she’d keep me far away from him if he was at the party. I’d entertained the idea of not going to the party all together, but this was where I’d belonged. My best friends were here, and it was my last New Year’s in Florida. I wasn’t giving it up.

“He didn’t mention any,” Carter said, glancing at his watch. “But he had some stuff to take care of tonight. I take it Whitney told you the news?”

“Yeah, she did. I feel terrible for him, but I’m glad they at least caught the bastard. If there is more than one person responsible, I hope they catch everyone involved.”

“Me too. The whole thing is a damn shame. But Jack’s getting back on his feet, slowly but surely. He’ll be okay, Em.” He gave me a wry grin, pulling Whitney closer to his side. They exchanged glances. “Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”

“Sure,” I said, smiling back.

“Here, come with me and you can take your pick. We just threw some burgers on the grill, but I have other stuff, too.”

Whitney kissed Carter on the cheek and slipped away to mingle, and he led me to the small kitchen area. I snatched up some potato salad and a soda, and he excused himself to slip out to the terrace to flip the burgers. Gulping down my drink and finishing off my potato salad, I tossed my plate and made my way to the bathroom. Opening the door, I went to reach for the light but found it already turned on, and was startled when I saw Jackson hunched over in the corner, sitting there on his cell phone. He looked up and his jaw dropped, eyes freezing on mine. I didn’t move.

“Ah, hey, let me call you tomorrow before I leave, okay? We can square away any loose ends then. Yeah,” he paused, holding up a finger to cue me to wait, “I’m looking forward to it. This is just what I need, man. I can’t thank you enough for giving me a chance. Happy New Year.” He quickly hung up and snapped to his feet. “Wow,” he breathed, eyeing me from head to toe, lingering on my ivory, vintage lace dress and its dipping neckline. “You look...how you been, Em?”

“Uh...getting by,” I said, letting the door close behind me. The sight of him sent a swift punch to my gut, my pulse suddenly racing. He was his usual tan self, snug in jeans and a rolled-up blue plaid flannel shirt, the azure of his eyes razor sharp. I smiled inwardly as I assessed him. Dressing up—even for New Year’s Eve—wasn’t Jackson’s style. I doubted any man could make a simple pair of jeans and a flannel shirt look as carelessly sexy as he did. An awkward laugh bubbled from my lips.. “What are you doing taking phone calls in the bathroom?”

“Nothing, just needed some quiet. It’s too cramped and crowded out there.”

“Oh.” My gaze travelled over his bicep’s ankh tattoo for a second, stirring up memories of how I’d clung tight to it every time he’d thrusted deep inside me, urging me to come for him. My breath quickened and I worked to swat the thoughts away. I backed up and reached for the door knob. “Well, you can finish your phone calls, I can come back in a few minutes.”

“I got a job,” he said, ignoring my attempt at an exit.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s great news.”

“And they arrested the asshole who destroyed the boat.”

“I heard. I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

“Well, I’m gonna go.” I reached for the doorknob again. He stopped me, slipping in front of me to press his back to the door, his hand closing behind him over the knob. I gritted my teeth in frustration. Why did he have to do this? Damn it, why didn’t I just stay with Whitney? “What is it with you blocking me from bathrooms?”

“This time I’m blocking you from leaving one.”

“Why, Jackson? What do you want?”

“You really have to ask that?” He exhaled, leaning his head back against the door in a tired slump. “I
miss you
, Emma.”

“Oh no,” I tried pushing him out of the way, “you don’t get to do this. You made your decision. I’m starting to find closure, Jackson. I’m about to start my last semester, my move plans are solid, I’m...moving on, just like you wanted. You can’t flip-flop back and forth like this. It’s too painful. I can’t believe you’re doing this right now. Can’t we just go enjoy this New Year party in peace?” Wrestling against him, I sighed as he tried gripping my shoulders.

“Peace is what I’m looking for. Listen, there’s just something I want to say before—”

“There’s nothing left to say!”

“Before you move away, I have a few things to ask you, will you just listen?”

Closing my eyes, I quit struggling. He moved forward and turned me, roughly aligning my back with the wall, his hands caging me against it. “One, I need you to forgive me. I can’t let go...can’t move on unless I have your forgiveness. Please set me free from this bullshit, because I crave it so bad my chest literally
hurts
over here, Emma. Everything hurts. I hate what I did to you and I know I can’t change it, but I can at least...function...if you tell me you forgive me for what I’ve done. Will you?”

I opened my eyes and breathed deep, feeling the vibrations of the music bump against my skin through the wall. “And what else?”

“Two, I need you to ask yourself something when the time comes. And be honest with yourself.” He flattened me further against the wall, and all the blood rushed straight between my thighs, my traitorous body caving against his warmth. God, he was such a bastard for cornering me like this. “Will the next guy—whoever he is and wherever you find him—be able to touch you like this?” His hand slipped under my dress to cup me, and his thumb began rolling over my clit in slow, agonizing circles. “Will he make you as wet as I do?” He hitched up one of my legs, pulling and cradling me against him, grinding into me. I glared at him, my jaw tightening, barely able to contain the mixture of anger and desire coursing through my blood. Why did my body betray me like this? “When his hands touch you for the first time, ask yourself if he’ll be able to make you come as hard as I can.”

I bit back a moan as his fingers worked harder against me, increasing the pressure. “Stop,” I said breathlessly.

“I don’t feel you pushing me away.” He glared back, blue eyes captivating mine, voice hoarse. “You don’t want me to stop. If you did, you’d be fighting me. You wouldn’t be soaking wet in my hand right now.”

“We can’t do this. Don’t do this to me.”

“All I want is to love you and earn your forgiveness, Emma. It’s all I’ll ever want.” His fingers dipped beneath my panties and he rolled them more persistently, a groan bubbling up from his chest when he heard me whimper.

I reached out to grip his arms, tilting my head back as I leaned into his hand, straining from the building tension. “I love you, Jack. But I can’t...I won’t...”

“I’m not asking to get back together right now. I’m going to walk out of here, and you never have to see me again if you don’t want to. I’m only asking you to remember this—” he leaned down to bite and tug on my lip, “the way I can make you feel, and to ask yourself, when the first new fucker puts his hands on you, whether or not he’ll be able to love you like I do. Because I guarantee you, his cock will never feel as good as mine, his arms will never hold you the way mine can, and he’ll never adore you inside and out the way I do. And when you answer those questions and see that I’m right, come find me. When you’re ready, give me a second chance, and I’ll do whatever you want to make this work, no matter where you live. I’ll wait for you.” Circling his fingers faster, he started to pump them back and forth, driving me closer and closer to the edge, continuing to grind himself into my core. “That’s right,” he peered down to watch my hips as they matched his hand’s rhythm. “Come on, baby. Just like that.”

The ragged edge to his voice and the way his mouth fell open as he watched me work against his hand were my undoing. Violently, I fell apart against him, his name wailing from somewhere deep in my chest, the guttural sound rattling against my ribs and throat. My nails dug into his chest and the room started to spin.

He leaned in and bit down on my neck, taking the ride with me, his hardness digging into my thigh, the pulsing heat nearly singeing my skin. “I love you, Emma. And don’t you ever fucking forget it.” Steadying himself, he waited to catch his breath, making sure I could stand, then straightened and pushed off me to turn to the sink, leaving me spent and collapsed against the wall. “Holy shit,” he muttered, splashing some cold water on his face and rubbing some over his neck. With a deep sigh, he adjusted himself and turned for the door, letting it shut quietly behind him.