Two Weeks (30 page)

Ally saves the day. She turns on the radio before we say anything else and turns the dial until she's on a classic rock station.

"I love Led Zeppelin!" she shouts as Jimmy Page's guitar solos blast from the speakers. She cranks it up even louder.

I start laughing uncontrollably and she notices.

"What's so funny?" she yells above the music.

"Just didn't expect you to be into classic rock."

"My dad played it all the time growing up."

A flash of memory pops into my head. "Oh yeah, Jeff used to complain about it all the time. That your dad would only listen to
oldies music
as he called it."

She continues bobbing her head along to the beat of the music. "And you guys were into grunge then, right?"

I nod. By the time we pull into town, we've already heard Led Zeppelin, Rush, and Lynyrd Skynyrd—and she's singing along to everything. Hell, she seems to know every word of the hits.

The main stretch of Carsonville is fairly boring. There's a dollar store and a fire department, along with a miniature golf course and some other random tourist traps. But you
have
to pass through it to get to the good stuff.

"I haven't been here in so long," Ally says after turning down the radio. She stares out the window. "It's changed a lot."

"Yeah, businesses come and go—unless they cater to the beach and festival crowds. In that case, they make a damn fortune during the summer and go on vacation all winter."

"Sounds like an easy life," she says. "Maybe that should be my goal? Start a fast food restaurant on a beach?"

I make a sharp left turn onto the drive that leads to the cabin. There's a beach in the city park where most people congregate, an area that can get pretty chaotic from the barely twenty-one year old kids guzzling copious amounts of light beer and acting like jackasses.

I used to be a part of that group, so I know.

And if that was the only beach experience I knew in Carsonville after growing up, I wouldn't have ever come back. My parents, on the other hand, recognized the allure of private access to a beautiful lake and picked out a house a fair distance away from the public beach.

We curve down Willow Drive, a short dirt road, and eventually pull into the driveway. The sun is shining and I feel good again. Nostalgia hits me hard; I haven't been here in quite some time and being here with Ally brings about some unique feelings.

"We're here!" I announce.

***

Ally

T
his "cabin" that Jackson's been talking about is really just a normal house with some wood paneling that vaguely resembles a cabin. I was thinking
log cabin
for some reason.
Abraham Lincoln
-style housing.

The driveway is short and narrow, leading up to a single-car garage. I can see straight out to the water from our elevated position in the truck.

A huge, sprawling elm tree shades the entire house and surrounding region. And around it are several Box Elders and a great deal of other thick clumps of foliage. The nearest house is probably a quarter of a mile away. This is some prime real estate in a getaway town like this.

"I'm really impressed," I say. "Except that it's not a cabin."

"My dad always called it that. I guess it stuck. C'mon, let's go."

I grab my suitcase from the back and roll it along the uneven cobblestone pathway, breathing in as much fresh air as my lungs can handle. Birdsong and the sound of the water instantly puts me at ease.

Jackson unlocks the front door and we go inside. "Here we are, madam," he says. "There's a couch for you to sleep on. I hope that's okay for someone of your royal status. It's the best we can offer here at
Ames Inn
." He bows.

"That's perfect," I say. "Thank you so much, sir."

Jackson closes the door and then walks into the kitchen area. I glance around the living room.

"You can throw your suitcase upstairs. Upstairs and straight to the right."

I carry my bag up the carpeted stairs, and follow his directions. The room is fairly barren. It almost has some character—there's a nice antique night stand and a big dresser, both of which could hold countless trinkets—but it's just numb. Plenty of unused space for pictures on the cream-colored walls.

I stick my head into the attached bathroom and take a quick peek. This seems like the perfect place to rent out, and it makes me wonder if Jackson does that. I leave my suitcase next to the bed and casually walk out of the room. There's another bedroom along with a second bathroom.

When my curiosity is satisfied, I grip the banister and follow along. I stop near the top stair to look at the chandelier dangling from the ceiling—it's the only super fancy thing in the house. The ceiling extends high above the second floor and reaches its apex at a tiny sun window.

The living room is quite commodious and like every other room in this house, the walls are barren. There's a twenty year old big screen TV in the center. Compared to the interior design of their other house, it's clear that this one was intended solely for the occasional weekend escape. No need to go beyond the basics.

I'm impressed at how clean it is. There is a faint pine smell in the air, and when I look down at the hardwood floors, they're spotless and shiny.

"Did you come over here and clean recently?" I shout. "Just for me?"

Jackson chuckles. I hear him fiddling around with some glasses. "No, there's a local guy here that takes care of the property. Old friend of the family. I'll just keep paying him until I finally sell the place."

"Do you think you want to do that?" I ask. "It's nice to have a place to yourself up here." I walk over to the sliding door that faces the water and press my face up against the glass like a child at an aquarium. "And you've got such a nice view of the water." My breath quickly fogs up the view.

"Maybe I won't want to stay around here forever. And if I move away, I'll probably never come back. Just like you."

"Oh, shut up," I say. "I'll be the first to admit that I was wrong. I made unfair statements about Red Lake and the surrounding region. Is that good enough for you?"

"It is," he shouts back.

"Do you ever rent this place out? Seems like you could make some good money."

"Sometimes," he says. "There's a family coming here near the end of August, but they've been coming here every year for a long time. Dad’s old friends. Maybe I should advertise more."

I say nothing. I stay at the back door, watching the ebb and flow of the tide, watching the fluffy clouds move across the sky. I'm in a trance, and I know it. I feel a tapping at my shoulder and I turn around abruptly.

"Hey, watch out," Jackson says, wry smile on his face. He's got two glasses in his hands and I almost knocked them on the floor. "I guess you really
do
need a drink."

"Sorry," I say. I graciously accept his alcoholic gift and take a sip. Gin and tonic. "Thanks. I need to numb myself to the plight of the baby bunnies." I finally understand why my dad was so excited to show off his photos of bunnies at the family reunion.

He reaches around me and opens the sliding door and steps outside. "God, you're never gonna have any fun unless you drop that. I'm sure they're fine. Do I need to drive home and set up a webcam so we can check on them all the time?"

"You could make a lot of money if you did that," I say, punctuating the sentence with a wink. "Who wouldn't want to watch baby bunnies all day?"

"Good point." I finally realize that he's waiting for me to join him on the deck. I follow him there and stare up into that epically huge elm tree.

"It stays nice and cool with
Goliath
over here," I say jokingly, pointing at the tree.

"Do you think I could take him?" Jackson flexes his arm and points over at the gargantuan thing. He looks goofy in his tight black t-shirt and big aviator sunglasses, sunglasses that are glinting in the sunlight and nearly blinding me.

I giggle. "I don't think you stand a chance. You're not even close to the same weight class."

"You've got no faith in me," he says. He takes a sip of his drink. "Do you think you'll want to ride jet skis at some point? I should get them ready if you want to."

"I've never ridden one before," I say. "Is it fun?"

"It's a rush. They go fast and it's pretty safe—as long as you can swim."

"Maybe," I say. "Sounds like a guy thing. Anything else to do around here?"

"There is a jacuzzi. But you're probably not into—"

"A jacuzzi?" I say excitedly. "Where?"

He turns and points to the big, jacuzzi-shaped thing close to the house on the deck. "Surprised you didn't see it coming out."

"Okay, we're
definitely
using that."

Jackson grins. "I never thought I'd be able to convince you.”

We eventually walk toward the beach together and I'm impressed by the tiny plot of sand that's all his. There's a rock wall on one side and the other is all trees. We're pretty isolated, unless someone comes by in a boat.

I kick off my sandals and dig my toes into the sand. I walk right to the end of where the tide touches and stay there. The water is perfect. In the distance, I can see part of the downtown area and the droves of people frolicking on the city beach, colorful beach balls bouncing through the air.

"Thanks for bringing me up here," I say. "This is really nice. I never would have done this on my own."

Jackson wraps his arms around my waist and presses himself up against me. "Hey, I figured you'd like it. Plus, I don't come up here enough either, and I own the place." He kisses my neck and it sends a tingle down my spine.

A glimmer of something arises in my mind. I'm so safe and warm and cozy here, and I wish I never had to leave. Maybe I'm getting carried away. I'm losing my identity, and I'm not sure who I am now. I just listen to Jackson breathe. I can't hear his thoughts, but I know he's thinking.

As Boston life creeps back into my mind, so does the spinal stenosis that Jackson just told me about. I start to imagine him all alone in a hospital, paralyzed forever, constrained to a wheelchair and demoted from his former glory. In a way, it would just be a repeat of what already happened, something short-lived that should have been forever.

My gut tenses up as I imagine him lying onto the ground, unconscious, surrounded by broken glass and spilled whiskey. It feels like someone lodged a knife there and I'm trying to keep myself relaxed so it won't make mincemeat of my insides. I'm not doing well.

What if that had been enough to finish him off?

Or maybe it's none of my business...

"What's on your mind?" Jackson asks. I'm not sure how much time has passed since we started this embrace.

"I don't know," I say, lying. "Just taking in the surroundings. It's beautiful out here."

"It is," he says. "I didn't really appreciate it until I was an adult. We used to go to all of these beautiful places on vacation and all I cared about was whether or not there was a place on the TV to hook up my Super Nintendo."

"Jeff was like that too," I say fondly.

"Those were different times." Since he's behind me, I can't see what he's doing. But he shifts his weight. "I think we should swim," he announces. "And then go get something to eat."

I pull away and turn to face him. "I've been waiting for you to say that this whole time! Thank God."

We head back inside and put on our respective bathing suits, as it's unlikely that Jackson will fit into my bikini. He races me back outside and jumps in just ahead of me. I watch in horror as his head approaches full submersion.

"Don't forget the stitches!" I scream as I fall in behind him.

"Oh, shit," he says and stops mere inches below the wound and bobs right back up. The water is pretty shallow, so he's able to get his footing.

We goof around together for a while, kicking back and relaxing in the late afternoon. It's the second time he's got me into a natural body of water in a week, something I would normally avoid. I guess it never really comes up in Boston.

I'm definitely
not
jumping into the Charles River anytime soon.

"I'm really gonna miss you when you're gone," Jackson says suddenly. It disrupts the moment, but I'm okay with it.

"I think I can say the same about you." I smile and kiss him right where his dimple is. "I really needed a vacation like this."

"Me too," he whispers. "You can do the same old thing every day forever without realizing that something else is out there. I guess I got lucky when I ran into you."

I give him a cocky, hot-shit smile. "Of course you're lucky to get
me
," I say.

"You don't know how right you are." His eyes are full of desire and they've left me a little wound up too. I'm not sure what to say back. "There are a lot of things I'd like to do to you right now," he whispers, "but I can't do some of them in public."

I shiver, even though the water is perfectly warm. He's pressed up against me, and it's clear how hard he is. "Why not?" I ask devilishly. I watch those big chest muscles rising and falling, and admire his sharp jaw, and striking eyes—I'm helpless here.

He gives a childish, defeated laugh. "No condom."

"Well, we could still..." I cut myself off. I've been on birth control this whole time, but given the circumstances and the intended short relationship, I never mentioned it and stuck to protection, trying to maintain precaution, especially after his supposed promiscuous, yet responsible sexual behavior.

Ah, fuck it.

"What if I said you didn't need to use protection?"

He takes no time to respond. His answer is almost spring-loaded. "Then I'd fuck you right here, right now." His expression alone is enough to make me wet. There's something like predatory instinct glowing in those eyes.

He wants me—and I
want
him to have me.

"Then do it," I say, glancing around to make sure no one is in our proximity. It's clear, and he knows it too.

Jackson overtakes me like a wave, kissing and hoisting me above the water. His hardness presses against me, and I grind against it, like I'm trying to absorb as much of him as possible. His hands cup my breasts and I grip his back with all of my strength.