by Emery Jacobs
“Mmmm. Please don’t stop.” My voice fades into his.
“You don’t have to worry about that.” He grunts as he thrusts over and over, bringing me closer to breaking apart underneath him. “Come for me, baby.” His words are warm on my skin, and my body responds immediately, shaking and quivering from head to toe as I pulse around him. I whisper his name once, twice, three times… my voice growing louder each time.
My body should be wiped out. Spent. But it’s not. I’m still wound up so damn tight, wanting more, needing more, so now is the time to let him take what he wants—hard, fast, and greedy.
“Fuck me harder, Jack,” I demand.
My words drive him, give him the okay to take what he needs. He thrusts inside of me, pumping forward harder, my body sliding up the bed. My hips rock and my body shudders in response to his movement. Jack’s hands settle on my waist, and his groans grow louder. His cock swells within me before he comes on a long, low grunt. He releases a deep breath and then kisses my forehead. “I love you, baby.” His words are soft and sweet, so unlike the man who just fucked me so hard that I hope I’m able to crawl out of bed and walk in the morning.
My eyes never leave him, even after he slides out of me and heads toward the bathroom. Long lines of nothing but muscle and tattoos fill my sight. I’m the luckiest girl in the entire world. The sexy man walking away from our bed naked and sated loves me. “I love you too,” I whisper, knowing he can’t hear me. Jack vanishes from my sight as the door to the bathroom closes.
I refuse to let us being apart for Thanksgiving ruin my holiday season. We’ll be together for Christmas and New Year’s. We’ll celebrate with our friends, and when we’re not celebrating, we’ll be spending time in bed making up for the time we lost this week. That’s more like it. My newfound positive attitude is making me feel better already.
I snatch a hair clasp from the nightstand and throw my frizzy mop into a messy bun on top of my head. I climb out of bed and grab Jack’s T-shirt from the floor, bringing it to my nose and inhaling his scent for the last time until I return from my parents’ house. God, I’m gonna miss him. It’s only a few days. Don’t be so needy.
I throw his T-shirt on, snag my suitcase from the floor, and toss it onto the bed to finish packing for my trip.
2
Jovie
Thanksgiving Day
“Are you pregnant?” Mom asks as I turn up my glass of sweet tea. The cold liquid barely hits my throat before my body convulses and tea shoots from my mouth and nose. What the hell is wrong with her? Before I question her rationale for discussing the possibility of me being with child at Thanksgiving dinner, I cut my eyes toward my dad. He immediately looks away, like he’s been caught watching the whole thing go down but doesn’t want me to know he’s actually paying attention to our conversation. Great. There’s nothing like discussing your sex life at the dinner table in front of your father.
“Why would you even ask me such a question?” I bark out, looking her square in the eye. “Especially right now.” I flick my eyes toward my father, who is staring at his plate. My dad, the police chief of Brownsboro, Georgia, is a man of few words. It’s the way he looks at me—or in this case, the way he won’t look at me—that tells me everything I need to know. He doesn’t look very happy, or maybe it’s disappointment written across his face. It doesn’t really matter because I’m not pregnant, and I don’t want him worrying about something that’s not even true. I know he’s not really happy about me living with Jack, but as long as I’m “living in sin” in Houston and not Brownsboro, he can deal with it. Why? Because it’s not right under his nose, so he can put it in a compartment in the very back of his mind and pretend it’s not really happening.
“Hmm… you just haven’t been yourself since you arrived a couple of days ago.” Mom stops eating and forces a small smile on her face. “You’ve done nothing but lie around all day and stare at your phone. You’ve hardly eaten anything and have told me repeatedly that you don’t feel very well.”
“So, me not going out and drinking my weight in alcohol every night with my old high school friends and not binging on pizza and tacos means I’m pregnant?” Fuck! I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. Mom has had a long, hard road full of drunken nights followed by short periods of sobriety. Every time she’s sober for longer than a few days—like now, when she’s at the three-month mark—we all get excited that this might be the time she quits for good, but it also means tiptoeing around her like I’m walking on eggshells. I hate it. It’s been this way most of my life. The only time she was sober for an extended period of time was after my sister died.
“Jovie!” Dad’s deep voice rumbles loudly throughout the dining room.
“Sorry,” I whisper as I lower my head. Suddenly I’m no longer hungry. I used to love the holidays, but this year I can’t bring myself to even pretend to be happy. I can’t even put my finger on the exact reason. It’s more like a combination of several things. My mom is fighting to stay sober, my boyfriend isn’t here, and my dad is on pins and needles praying we make it through the day without me saying something that causes my mom to have a meltdown and start drinking before Christmas.
“It’s okay, honey. Jovie didn’t mean anything by what she said. Her hormones are probably all out of sorts, and it’s making her a bit cranky,” Mom says as she directs her attention toward my dad.
“Mom, I’m not pregnant.” I lift my head and look directly at her. “I’m just a little down because Jack had to work, that’s all. I’m fine.”
“How do you know you’re not pregnant? Have you taken a test?” Her voice is hopeful.
Why would she even want me to be pregnant? I’m not married, I still have another semester left before graduating from college, and then I plan on immediately enrolling in graduate school. This is not the time for me to be pregnant.
“No, Mom, I haven’t taken a pregnancy test.” God, this is so damn awkward, especially since my dad is no longer pissed about my mention of alcohol and has gone back to staring at his plate—pretending he’s no longer listening to the conversation.
“Honey, you just have all the signs of being pregnant. That’s all I’m saying, and if you are, it’s okay. You and Jack have been together for long enough that I’m sure he’ll take care of you and the baby.”
“If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll take a pregnancy test in the morning.” I think at this point it’s best if I just give in. It’s Thanksgiving Day; we should be enjoying our meal and each other, not arguing about something as ridiculous as me being pregnant.
“I think that’s a great idea. Don’t you, Dan?” She looks toward my father.
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He glances at me before “Thank you” silently falls from his mouth.
I blow out a deep breath and give him a small smile.
“Is Layla coming by tonight?” Mom asks, referring to my best friend. I’ve always considered Layla as my savior. She was the first person I met when we moved to Brownsboro, Georgia, and from day one, her friendship saved me from the sadness that was forever consuming me in this house. Mom was so depressed after my sister was killed, and Dad was always working. Layla became the only person I could count on, and she’s never failed me.
I move the fruit salad around on my plate as I shake my head. “No, she didn’t come home for Thanksgiving. She decided to stay in Houston and spend the holiday with her fiancé and his family.”
“Fiancé?” Her voice comes out a bit pitchy.
“Yes, her fiancé. I told you Sebastian proposed to her earlier this year.” I tap my finger on my chin as I try to remember what month they got engaged. “Hmm… I think it was March or April.” I shrug. “I can’t remember the exact date, but I told you.” I’m sure it was during a time when she was heavily sedated from one too many martinis.
Mom narrows her eyebrows as she begins to think out loud, which is annoying, but I don’t say anything. I just let her ramble as I continue to move
food around on my plate, thankful that she’s moved on to something other than me being pregnant. “How long have they been dating? It seems kind of quick to me. And I wonder why Carla hasn’t mentioned it to me.” Carla is Layla’s mom, and she became friends with my mother soon after Layla and I became close.
I really need to get away from this table and this day, maybe spend some time studying or watching television. I just need a break from the emotional roller coaster of the past couple of days. “Dinner was great, but I’m stuffed,” I say to no one in particular.
“No room for dessert?” Mom pushes away from the table and stands just as I grab my plate and head toward the kitchen.
“No. I can’t eat another bite,” I tell her.
She glances at my plate before her gaze meets mine. The silence that falls between us is awkward, uncomfortable, but I don’t force another conversation with her that would more than likely cause more tension.
I move to the opposite end of the table where she is standing. “Thank you for dinner. It was so good.” I kiss her cheek before looking back at my father and then heading toward the kitchen to put away my dishes.
“Jovie,” Mom calls out as I walk away. Dammit, I almost made it. Only two more steps then I’d be in the kitchen and I could take the back stairs to my room to avoid any more face-to-face time with my parents tonight.
I stop and glance over my shoulder without saying a word. Her eyes are dull, but she’s giving me her best attempt at a smile.
“I’m glad you’re here. I’ve really missed you.” Her voice is soft and sincere.
Now I feel awful because I haven’t been a very good daughter since I’ve been home. I want to say something, but I’m not really sure what, so I just give her a nod and a small smile before walking away.
3
Jovie
The day after Thanksgiving
My phone chimes a familiar tune as it vibrates against the granite countertop of the bathroom vanity. I inhale a much-needed deep breath and glance at the screen even though I know exactly who that ringtone belongs to. Jack. I want to cry and beg him to come get me, take me home, and hold me for the rest of the day. Between my mom being extremely overbearing, my dad walking around on edge, and me attempting to study for finals, my nerves are shot to hell. It’s a miracle I haven’t had a panic attack.
“Hey, I miss you” are the first words I say when I answer his call.
“Hey, baby, I miss you too. Is everything okay?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.
I hesitate a beat as I glance at the pregnancy test lying on the countertop. “Yeah, everything is fine. I’m just ready to come home.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to call you back….” His voice fades as Mom knocks a couple of times on the bathroom door before pushing it open and stepping inside. I should have locked the damn door.
“It’s been five minutes—have you looked at the test yet? Is it positive?” she blurts out, and I swear her voice echoes throughout the small room. She reaches for it, but I block her before she’s able to grab it.
“Mom, please. I’m on the phone. We can do this in a few minutes.”
“What’s going on? Is that your mom?” Jack’s voice is loud and clear.
“Yeah, hang on a second.” I scramble to hit the mute button so he doesn’t have to hear anything else she says. She’s been on a roll, and there’s no stopping her until she gets her hands on the pregnancy test.
“Go ahead and take a look,” I tell her. I’m doing my best not to sound irritated, but it’s hard.
“Let’s do it together,” she says with a little too much cheerfulness in her voice, or maybe it’s hope and not cheer.
I glance in her direction, and she’s smiling at me as she shows off both hands with fingers crossed. You’ve got to be kidding me.
I fight the eye roll because it would be wrong. “Okay, but we have to hurry—Jack’s still on the phone.”
She nods as we peer over the sink at the negative pregnancy test. I breathe out a sigh of relief, even though I’m not sure why because there was never any chance in my mind that it would be anything but negative. I think it’s probably because Mom planted that little seed of doubt and, of course, my thoughts just took off with it.
Her smile disappears, and her eyes fill with disappointment. Why do I suddenly feel terrible that I’m not pregnant? “It’s just not the right time. I promise one day you’ll be a grandmother.” My voice is shaky as tears pool in my eyes. My heart is breaking for her. She’s lost so much in her life. I just hope this doesn’t send her back to the bottle.
She gives me a hug before leaving me alone in the bathroom with sadness and worry for her swirling through my head.
“Did you take a pregnancy test?” Jack’s voice rings out loudly from the phone.
Shit. I thought I hit mute, but I guess in my struggle to fight off Mom’s grabby hands and echoing voice, I didn’t cut Jack off from everything that just went down.
I take in a deep breath and then slowly release it. Jack and I have never had a pregnancy scare. We’ve never even talked about kids or our future. We just live every day together without worry and without fear. At least that’s the way it used to be, but lately I’ve been questioning every move he makes. Stop being so insecure—everything is fine.
He swallows so loudly on the other end of the line I swear I can feel the vibration throughout my entire body. “I thought you were on the pill.”
“I am on the pill. It’s not what you think.” I hesitate a beat so I can figure out how to explain this fucked-up situation to him, but he doesn’t give me time.
“How can it not be what I think if you took a pregnancy test? Why didn’t you tell me you thought you were pregnant? Dammit, Jovie, we talk about shit like this. I don’t understand how you could run off to your parents, thinking you’re pregnant without breathing a word about it to me first.” We never talk about shit like this.
“Please, Jack, just let me explain. You weren’t supposed to hear any of this.” A couple of tears fall as my attempt not to cry is failing miserably.
“So, you weren’t planning to tell me?” His tone is harsh. Even though he’s hundreds of miles away, I swear I can see his face. His jaw is clenched, his eyes closed. His neck is probably red, and it’s quickly moving up to his face. He rarely ever gets mad, but from the sound of his voice, I think he’s about to his boiling point.
“No, I was going to tell you when I got home, but I never thought I was pregnant. It was Mom. It’s a long story, and I just can’t do this right now, Jack. Just believe me when I tell you this is a huge misunderstanding.” I balance the phone between my cheek and shoulder as I wipe the tears from my face.
“I have enough going on right now without having to worry about this,” he says, his voice laced with irritation.
What else does he have going on? He hasn’t mentioned anything to me except working during the Thanksgiving holiday. Even so, I’m not questioning him right now because, honestly, I don’t have the energy. I’ll be home soon, and I know once I’m there I’ll feel more like talking about whatever’s bothering him—other than my fake pregnancy scare.
“I’m sorry about this, Jack. I’ll explain everything tomorrow when I get home.” If it were a few hours earlier, I’d leave today, but my parents would have a fit if I tried to head home now.
“Fine, but I’ll probably be at the shop when you get home. If you’re still awake when I get in, we can talk.” His emotions must have settled some because the tone of his voice is almost back to normal, which gives me a little relief.
“Do you want me to stop by the shop on my way home?” I chew on my bottom lip and pace the small space of the bathroom.
“No, you’ll be tired from the drive. I’ll just see you when I get in.” My heart plummets into my stomach. What if I don’t care if I’m tired? I just want to see you.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll text you before I leave in the morning.” That’s kind of our thing if I
ever travel without him or he without me. We text only after we’re in the car, seat belt on, car idling and ready to leave, and then we text again if we stop for bathroom breaks or food.
“Yep. Be safe,” he says. A chime resonates through the phone, and I know someone just walked into the shop. “Someone just walked in. Talk to you later.” The call ends, and all I can do is stare at the screen. What just happened? I know it was partially my fault, but he chose not to give me time to explain myself. He only saw the worst-case scenario, which was either me thinking I was pregnant and not telling him or there being a chance I could be pregnant.
We’ll work it out. I love him. He loves me. He’s my forever, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.
4
Jovie
Three weeks before Christmas
“You haven’t had sex in how long?” Layla asks loudly.
I scan the large room quickly, taking in the nameless faces and hoping no one heard her. Since Layla and I both have the day off, we decided to meet up at Jake’s Bar for a quick chat before she has to meet with the florist for some wedding planning stuff. “Dammit, Layla, there’s no reason to tell everyone in here that my boyfriend hasn’t touched me in almost two weeks,” I whisper, overcompensating for my loudmouthed friend. I realize two weeks doesn’t sound like a terribly long time, but for us it’s like an eternity. I can’t remember the last time we went longer than four days.
“Do you think it’s the pregnancy scare?” she asks as she sips her Long Island Iced Tea.
“There was no pregnancy scare. I told you what happened. Did you forget in all your wedding planning bliss?” I narrow my eyes at her before tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. My body tenses at the memory of Jack’s reaction after I sat him down and explained the entire scenario. I thought he would get a good laugh out of it and life would return to normal, but he mostly just avoided the subject after I finished my spiel, instead asking about Mom and her recovery. I guess I need to be happy that he’s kind of sweeping it under the rug, but it’s concerning that he didn’t even want to discuss it. I plan on eventually bringing it up again. Maybe. Crap, I don’t know. It’s over and done with, so I’ll probably just drop it… unless of course he brings it up again.
