by Ella Fields
Bile simmered, each word she said creating a storm that refused to pass over. And when it was done, everyone clapping and approaching her and Heath to wish them well, I decided I’d had about enough.
As I was walking down the hall, Heath called, “Willa? Come over here.”
Cursing beneath my breath, I backtracked, heading to where he and Victoria were seated in the dining area, guests flocking around them.
Warm and cautious smiles greeted me as I slipped between people and leaned against the wall.
“You must be so glad they’re home.” Irene, Heath’s cousin, patted his shoulder.
“So glad.” He grinned, real and bright. “Us Thorns, we need to stick together.”
I didn’t know why I decided then was the time to burst their bubble, only that there was so much injustice, so much betrayal, and so much hurt, and they’d left me alone to rot with it for years.
“Actually, it’s Grayson.” Bewilderment swept across the room at large, and softer, more gently, I explained, “My surname. It’s now Grayson.”
Mom gasped, and Heath’s face drained.
I didn’t stick around to see what happened next. I didn’t run either. Smiling at some of the gawkers, I excused myself for the bathroom but did no such thing.
I’d almost reached the front door, I could almost taste the freedom and fresh night air, when I let my eyes traverse the staircase, the pictures lining the wall.
Pictures of me and Jackson as babies, toddlers, kindergarteners, and the years dragged on as I wound up the stairs, my finger tracing the dusty edges of the gold-embossed frames.
My feet crossed the landing, padding over new carpet to the bedroom closest to the bathroom. The carpet wasn’t the only thing they’d replaced. The door with a giant padlock was now gone. My heart pinched as I opened the new one. Inside, I discovered nothing else had really changed.
The items I’d left here were still on the desk and shelves. Books, knickknacks, and a few unfinished scrapbook albums. I made a mental note to get Peggy and Daphne together for a scrapbook date, just like old times, if I survived this mess.
The curtains were open, giving view to the sprawling yard and the rolling hills of the cemetery beyond. When I moved back a step, my legs hit the bed, the mattress dipping as I sat and allowed the burn in my eyes to catch fire.
I’d left the door open, but it was closed a few minutes later, blocking out the noise from downstairs as Jackson entered and leaned back against it. “You changed your name?”
Swiping at the wet streaking my cheeks, I said, “Two years ago. My therapist suggested doing things that made me feel better. That would help me move on.”
“Therapist?” Jackson questioned.
I nodded, running damp fingers over the faded bedding.
“And did it? Make you feel better?”
“Yes,” I admitted, remembering when I’d gotten confirmation it’d been finalized. “So much better.”
“And now?”
Standing, I struggled to make out his expression in the dark, but he was standing next to the light switch, and I wasn’t about to get any closer. “What’s it matter?”
He lifted his shoulders, slowly prowling forward. “You’re crying.”
“Not because I regret it, but because of”—I expelled a frustrated breath, waving my hand around the room—“all of it. Everything.”
He tilted his head, stopping before me, close enough to notice his tongue slide across his teeth, and how his eyes dipped over every inch of me. “Yet here you are. You willingly walked back into the same hellhole of our own making.”
“We didn’t make them behave the way they did. That was their choice, and you know it.”
He tutted, lifting my chin for our eyes to connect. “Everyone makes choices they feel are best, whether it be right or wrong.” With a gleam that spelled arrogance, he added, “You’ve made quite a few terrible choices of your own.”
His firm hold on my chin wasn’t exactly comforting, but I couldn’t bring myself to remove his fingers. “You’ve forgiven them?” I couldn’t, or maybe I didn’t want to, believe that. “Jackson—”
“No,” he said. “I might never forgive them, but you’re so quick to judge, to trample what they’re trying to fix, when you’ve fucked up in immeasurable ways yourself.” He licked his plush lips. “A little hypocritical, don’t you think?”
“You,” I started, stopping to try to gather words I’d wanted to tell him years ago, if only I’d been given the chance. “You never let me explain.”
“What was there to explain? What position you let him fuck you in?”
I sniffed. “Everything. You broke up with me.”
“But did I?” His brows rose.
Growling, I shoved his hand off. “Stop it. You know what you did, and you know I would never have done that if you didn’t break my heart.”
“Oh.” He chuckled, the sound void of humor, stabbing a finger at his chest. “I broke your heart?”
“Yes,” I said, wanting to scream it at him. My chest was heaving, his eyes heavy on it as I struggled to gather some composure. As I struggled to make my feet carry me to the door.
He caught my hand before I could make it, and then I was against the wall, and his forehead was against mine. “In the battle of who hurt who the most, you fucking won, Willa.”
“I won nothing,” I breathed, his lips so close to mine, I shivered when I inhaled his exhale.
Then, because I was a fool who hadn’t learned anything, I rose onto my toes, and grabbed his head. “I lost everything.”
Jackson groaned, deep and guttural, as soon as our lips touched. It wasn’t soft, and it wasn’t special. It was hard and aggressive, his hands gripping my face as our teeth and tongues vied for dominance.
A knock on the door had him cursing and stumbling back, his eyes filled with the type of horror even darkness couldn’t hide.
“Jackson?” Ainsley said. “The food is ready.”
She knew. She knew we were both in here. The satisfaction I felt over that was quick to morph into shame.
He didn’t wait or even fix his hair. Jackson tore open the door, and without so much as a backward glance, he disappeared.
My fingers opened and closed, seeking the soft strands of his hair, the coarse bristle upon his cheeks. I lifted them to my lips and closed my eyes, flopping against the wall.
Ten minutes later, I walked downstairs and straight out the front door.
Jackson
Heartbreak and peril had never tasted so sweet.
Staring up at the ceiling, I watched the silver blades of the fan twirl as the sound of her fluttering sighs and tiny husky moans planted themselves deeper into my psyche.
Her sweet scent, the desperate clawing of her hands, and the way her lips had fit so seamlessly to mine… I was a fucking idiot.
A fucking idiot who was engaged.
“Jack.” The bed dipped as Ainsley took a seat by my feet, braiding her hair. “You okay?”
I hated it when she called me Jack. I’d told her that years ago, and still, sometimes she slipped. Now wasn’t the time to remind her. Now was the time to remind myself of what a giant jackass I was.
Clearing my throat, I forced my eyes to hers. “Fine. Just tired.”
Nodding, she pressed a hand against my leg over the white duvet. “It’s been a crazy month.”
She wasn’t wrong. I yawned and stretched my arms above my head, wondering if I could erase what I’d done with a long morning run.
“I don’t want to add to it,” she said, her tone cautious. “But…”
Shit. “But what?”
Her lip disappeared behind her teeth, hesitation wringing her hands. “Well, I want to set a date.”
Feigning confusion would be a total dick move, and I was a total dick. I knitted my brows. “For the wedding?”
Her laughter was soft, even as her eyes rolled. “Duh.” Giving me a gentle look, she sighed. “Look, I know this has been a ha
rd time for you, and I’m not asking for us to walk down the aisle tomorrow, but it would make me feel a lot better if we could at least agree on a date.”
When she’d asked me to marry her, I’d thought she’d been joking. Thankfully, I hadn’t released the laugh that wanted out at the time. I’d swallowed it, and my damn heart, when I’d realized she was serious.
I could never tell myself why it was that I’d agreed to it. I loved her, sure. I loved her in all the ways I was capable of loving someone after I’d had my heart and soul stolen by another. Forever halfway in.
But I’d thought, if this is as good as it gets, then I needed to snatch it. I needed the next best thing. The next best chance at living a happy life. For there weren’t many women who’d be able to love me the way Ainsley did.
Who’d be able to accept a past that’d robbed me. Who’d be able to love me enough for the both of us.
I never thought I’d see Willa again, and if I ever did, then I never predicted it to go down the way it had. I’d been naïve in thinking she could no longer slither beneath my skin and poison me. Time didn’t change someone’s effect on you; it merely hid it from you long enough to believe it could.
“I can’t,” I heard myself saying. “I can’t do that,” I said it again, as if just realizing the truth inside the admission. “I’m sorry.”
“What do you mean?” Disbelieving laughter followed her question. Then she was up, pacing the room, her eyes ablaze with hurt. “Jesus Christ, Jackson. Still? I thought we were done with this.”
“Done with what?” I asked because I was a moron like that.
Stopping, she flung a hand at me. “With her. You promised me.”
I never promised her anything, but I suppose by giving her that ring, I had. “It’s over, and it has been for a long time. There’s nothing to worry about.”
As I sat up, the duvet sliding down my chest, her eyes followed before closing. “Then why were you in the bedroom with her last night?”
I’d thought it strange she hadn’t asked about that on the drive home. “She was crying, and I was annoyed she’d changed her surname. I didn’t think she’d do something like that.” Tipping a shoulder, I shifted to slide my legs out of bed. “So we talked.”
“You talked?” she repeated, the words dangerously bland.
“Yes.”
“Why would you care about her changing her surname?”
I didn’t. That had been a lie. In fact, the teeny tiny part of me that didn’t hate her was proud she’d taken such a stand for herself. “I don’t really.”
“You just said it annoyed you.”
I huffed, running a hand over my cheek, containing a groan. “It annoyed me how she’d admitted it. The way it’d all gone down.” Dropping my hand, I let out a loud breath. “Can this wait until I’ve done my run and grabbed some coffee? I’m still half asleep here.”
A caustic laugh split her pursed lips. “You’re unbelievable, Jackson.”
She didn’t even know the half of it.
I’d tell her. But not right now. “You’re going to be late.”
“I’m going to be late?” She seemed to like repeating me, and it was grating, to say the least. “All I want is a date, Jackson. Pick a month and pick a number.”
“I told you,” I said, standing and walking to the dresser to pull out my running shorts. “I can’t do that.”
“When can you do that?”
Slamming the drawer, I turned and folded my arms over my bare chest. “I don’t know, okay? I really don’t fucking know.”
“Why agree to marry me then?” She was yelling now, and I blinked, the crazed look in her eyes unsettling. Gesturing to the diamonds on her finger, she almost screamed, “What is the damn point of wearing this stupid ring if you have no desire to follow through with what it stands for?”
Meeting her eyes, I struggled to find words, wishing there was a way I could make her understand the impossible. That couldn’t happen. Not when I didn’t even know what I was thinking myself.
With tears glassing her eyes, she threw her hands up and stormed out of the room. “Enjoy your run. I won’t be here when you get back.”
“Ains,” I said, following her.
The door closed in my face.
I thought she’d just been trying to piss me off, but I’d thought wrong.
When I returned, I found our closet door open, and half her shit and two of her suitcases gone.
I dropped the bottle of bourbon to the sidewalk, then banged my fist on the door.
I had no idea why I was here; all I knew was the alcohol had done nothing to calm me down. The anger climbed, hot and steady, simmering and bubbling to the surface, and it needed out.
In a purple satin robe with what looked to be hummingbirds on it, her hair in a small mess atop her head, and clean faced, Willa opened the door. “Jackson?”
I pushed my way in, pacing the small foyer in quick strides. “You just have to ruin everything, don’t you?”
“Excuse me?” The door slipped from her hand, slamming as she stepped closer.
I stopped, stabbing a finger at her. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. You seem so fucking sweet, so damn naïve and fucking innocent, but it’s all a pretty lie,” I hissed the last words at her.
Her eyes rounded, her bow-shaped lips parting with a harsh exhale. “Are you drunk?”
“What I am has nothing to do with you. Nothing,” I seethed, getting right up in her perfect face. “Yet you’ve found a way to fuck it all up anyway.”
“Are you talking about the party?” She licked her lips, her gaze dropping, cheeks filling with color. “Because I didn’t plan on—”
“That’s just it. You never plan anything; you act on impulse. On feelings you haven’t thought through, and you wreck other people’s plans and lives.”
Swallowing, she nodded once. “I think you should go.” She drifted to the stairs, then raced up them.
Before she could close her apartment door, I was there, pushing it open.
She staggered back, gasping, the soft glow coming from two lamps in her living room highlighting her wet cheeks. “Jackson, please.”
“She left. She’s gone, and it’s all because of you.” The words were rough, falling out on a hoarse breath.
Her slender shoulders tensed, her hand moving to her mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”
“You never fucking think, and don’t for one second act like you give a damn.” The door squeaked closed behind me as I waded farther into her apartment, the tips of my shoes meeting her bare toes. “We both know you don’t.”
Her eyes narrowed, her hand falling to her side, as her shoulders squared. “Fuck you.” A low, breathy laugh traveled with her next words. “How long can you blame me for something you did, Jackson?”
I scowled, my fists clenching. “Fucking what?”
“You heard me,” she said, daring to move closer as I moved back toward the door. “How long are you going to peg all the blame for what happened to us, for what is now happening to you, on me?”
“For as long as you’re at fault.” I smirked. “Forever.”
Her hand flicked out, knocking a vase to the floor. Flowers and water flooded the wood, cracked porcelain laying in five different sized pieces. “You’re an egocentric asshole. You always have been, and I see now that will never change.” She wasn’t yelling, but she was growling, emotion and fury drenching each word. “You concocted some fucked-up plan to help me get into college and left me to stew over what was happening to us for months. I was eighteen, you fucking asshole. I was eighteen, lost, confused, and so scared.”
With her back to me, she dug her nails into her hair, sending the tie to the floor and her hair around her shoulders. “You could’ve told me. You think I cheated on you?” She turned around. “You cheated on me first. You lied to me first. You devised a plan to use another girl to hurt me. You,” she wheezed, her finger shaking as she pointed at me, “you cheat
ed first, you failed me first, and that’s why you’re so angry, so full of hatred. Because we both know it’s true. We both know if you’d had enough balls and foresight to communicate with me, I never would’ve done what I did.”
“Bullshit,” I rasped, even as my chest caved inward, stealing my breath.
“No,” she said with a humorless laugh. “Not bullshit.”
“You fucked someone else.”
“You kissed someone else. You broke my heart on purpose, believing I’d what?” She sniffed, shaking her head. “That I’d just take it? That I’d wait for you to come and fix it?”
I couldn’t answer, and we both knew why.
Moving too close, she murmured, “I waited for months, Jackson. I waited, and I tried, and still, we drifted apart. Part of that might have been your intent, to make it believable, but come on.” Her smile was sad, her eyes too, as they sank into mine. “We were struggling regardless.”
“We would’ve made it.”
She tipped a shoulder, nodding. “We might have.” Her lashes fluttered, a bead of salt sitting upon her bottom lash, waiting to be sent down her cheek. “We’ll never know, and maybe, we weren’t supposed to.” With that, she turned away, heading down the short hall into the dark. “You can see yourself out.”
I crossed the room, my boots crunching over flowers and further cracking the porcelain. “Don’t walk away from me.”
She spun back just as I reached her, her brows lowered and a response ready on her tongue.
I grabbed her face, swallowing whatever she was going to say with my next inhale, and forced her back to the wall.
With a squeak, she pushed at my chest, then clung to my shirt, fisting it in her tiny hands as her tongue stroked mine, and I angled her head back, allowing better access.
“We can’t,” she said between kisses that drugged.
“That’s never stopped us before,” I said, licking her silken upper lip.
Then she was lifting my shirt, and I groaned as her skin met mine. My spine pulled taut as electricity strangled every muscle, and every breath turned weighted.
