by A. S. Green
“But you understand?” he asks, placing his hand over mine and stilling my fingers. “I’m…not the same. There are some…issues I need to work through and—”
“We’ve all got issues, Jax.”
He gives his head a little shake. “After all the shit with my parents, then with…” He pauses and looks away. “And then Gram dying, then everything that came after… I live life differently now. It can’t be like this between us once we get to New York.”
My heart stutters with regret, because I’m pretty sure my name was supposed to fill that pause, then I force out one single word. “Fine.”
“Fine?” His eyebrows shoot up. He looks surprised by my response and, I’m gratified to see, maybe even a little disappointed.
“I understand your terms, even if I don’t understand them. If that makes sense. I just need you to give me this chance.”
“Then, okay,” he says. “Trial basis.”
That’s all I need to let me believe we have a chance. I’ve seen it before. My parents were on the brink of separation, but they gave it another effort and made it through some less than stellar times. They’re better and stronger for it.
That brings them to mind.
“I guess I better let my parents know. Make sure they’re okay with—”
His expression falls from one of serious reflection to one of annoyance.
“What?” I ask.
“Natalie, you’re thirty years old. This is between you and me. Between you and JSI. You don’t need their seal of approval.”
I hadn’t been talking about getting my parents’ approval, but I don’t argue the point, because I was hoping we weren’t going to land on my little white lie so soon.
He presses his palm to my cheek. “It’s time you—”
“Um…” I close my hand over his. “Twenty-four, actually.”
“What?” His eyebrows draw together, and his forehead furrows.
I clear my throat. “I’m twenty-four.”
“But…” I see the math working in his head, but it’s not computing. I’m going to have to help him out.
“I wasn’t as old as you thought that summer.” He continues to stare, so I give him one of those toothy “Oops! My bad” kind of smiles.
When it dawns on him what I’m saying, his face goes pale. Like Johan Lenz kind of pale. “Oh, shit,” he says. “Oh, dear God.”
Well, hell. I didn’t think he’d take the news that badly.
“How could you—” He washes his hand over his face. “Fuck! Were you still a minor? Oh, God…I could have gone to jail. Did you even stop to think… Why would you do that to me?”
He sits up in bed and looks toward the window. “Ah, fuck.”
I get on my knees behind him and put my hands on his shoulders. “You can quit freaking out. I was eighteen.” By only a few days, but I don’t tell him that. “And it’s not like you forced me. I’ve never had any regrets about spending time with—”
He turns to face me. “I’m six years older than you.”
I roll my eyes. “So what?”
His hands go to his hair, and he grips it by the roots before letting go. “I can’t even think… You were a child, and we…” He glances over the tangle of sheets, no doubt remembering our history. “I didn’t have any business being with you.”
“Now wait one second,” I say, my temper rising. “I chose who I wanted to be with then, and I’m choosing who I want to be with now. That’s you, Jax. It’s always been you.”
He grimaces, but I’m not sure at what part, then he shakes his head as if he can make the past go away. “I told you. Once we get to New York…”
“Right. Platonic City. Whatever.”
He shakes his head. “Please, let’s get on a topic that’s not going to make my head explode. You’re an adult now, regardless how young…” He groans again. “You don’t have to get anyone else’s permission to take a job.”
“You still want me, then?” The word “want” hangs in the air between us. We both know what I meant, and it’s not about the job.
Just say it, I think. Say everything I’m thinking. That you want me. That you can’t bear to say goodbye again. That we need to make up for lost time and have the life we were meant to have together.
It was never a random accident for Jax to one day decide to hitchhike to a concert in Iowa, then to jump into a van that just happens to be going to the same concert. He and I are soul mates. We were meant to be together. He has to be able to still see that.
He doesn’t answer my question about wanting me in words, but he gives his chin a hesitant bob.
“Good. But I do need to check in with how everything’s going back home. Make sure they’re getting on—”
“They can get on without you.”
“Whatever happened to me being a valuable asset? Maybe I’m valuable to them, too. Ever think of that?”
His lips roll inward.
“Save it,” I say, kissing his cheek. It might be one of my last opportunities. “Checking in is a common courtesy. You should try it sometime.”
“Got no one to check in with.” His mouth gets tight, then he turns away from me again.
My shoulders slump, and I lean back against the pillows. “Jax, that’s just sad.”
It’s clear he doesn’t want my sympathy. “That’s freedom.”
“I’m not imprisoned.”
“Aren’t you?” he asks. “You just told me you felt trapped on that island.”
“Okay, we need to nip this conversation in the bud before I do some serious damage to that handsome face of yours.”
He shakes his head. “Go to sleep, Natalie. Tomorrow’s another long drive. If we leave at four, we might make it by midnight. Can you do twenty hours straight?”
He’s dodging. “Yeah, I can handle it. You’re the one who’s driving.”
“Good.” He lies down, facing away from me. He seems to be going to sleep, but he’s left his bedside lamp on again.
I flop down on my back and put a pillow over my eyes. I hope this isn’t a terrible idea.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jackson
Someone is pulling me up the stairs. What the— Ah, hell. I’m back in this fucking dream again. I will my body to stop moving, but it’s no use. I pull back on my mother’s hand. She opens the bedroom door. At first it’s only a crack. Someone screams. More people screaming. Bad words.
My father is naked. He seems taller, wider, scarier without his clothes. There’s a new lady in the room. She looks scared, too.
“Do whatever you think is right,” someone says, and then I realize it’s me who’s talking. I’ve never been in this part of the dream before.
I’m not in my parents’ bedroom anymore. There’s a glowing marquee. A band is playing inside a building. Cars packed tight in a gravel parking lot. I’m walking away from someone, but I don’t know who.
I’m on a pink rubber band, stretching the distance behind us, feeling the tension and pull of her. Waiting for the snap. Still, my feet keep moving. This doesn’t feel right. I hate it. It hurts. God, it hurts.
“I’m going inside to hear the last set. Don’t want to miss Chantry’s drum solo.”
“I’ve got to go, Jax.” The rubber band snaps, and I’m hurtling through space.
“Natalie! Don’t go!”
“I’ve got to go.”
The words are nearly erased by the sound of rotor blades. It’s a small mercy, but… Oh, God. I’m back in the helicopter. I knew I would never escape it. The dream always ends the same.
The Chinook shudders like it’s shaking off the cold. Smoke fills the fuselage. But all I’m conscious of is the sound of Charlie yelling, “Kailey! Oh, God, Kailey!”
I’ve got to get Charlie to Savannah. Three more days. It’s only three more days. One of us deserves this. It won’t be me. It was never meant to be me.
“Charlie. Hold on, asshole. We’re gonna get you home.” His leg is trapped.
Slowly I scratch and crawl my way through the darkness, over submerged bodies, back toward Charlie. But I can’t get there. The more I climb, the more he retreats. My arms are stiff, heavy, clawing uselessly at something that just won’t give.
Charlie’s voice dims and shrinks, drawing away from me until it’s only a pinprick of sound. He calls my name, but I can’t get to him. He’s too far. I’ll never make it. “Charlie! I’m coming, buddy. Don’t go. I’m coming for you!”
His body shrinks inside his clothes until I’m scraping at the fabric, trying to find him. My hands are worn down to the bone, and my fingernails are falling out, thousands of them raining down on me like white rose petals over a dance floor.
My body spins, then jerks. I’m awake!
I find myself upright, sitting on the edge of a mattress. Everything in me threatens to hurl upward while the room continues to spin. I clutch the sheets so I don’t hit the floor.
It takes a few seconds before my stomach settles back into place. There’s the faraway sound of a trumpet. Moonlight sifts through the slats of the wooden shutters. New Orleans. That’s where I am.
I look over my shoulder. Natalie. She’s still asleep. Thank God.
I press my feet against the floor—something stable and unmoving. The last of the vertigo slips away.
I lean forward, elbows to knees, head in my hands. My skin is clammy. What am I doing? Why did I agree to let her come to New York? What kind of fucked-up lunacy is that? It’ll be just like before. Just like everything in my life. Whatever means the most to me will be the thing that takes me down.
“Jax?” Natalie’s sleepy voice breaks through my thoughts.
Shit.
“Are you all right?” The mattress shifts, and her hand is cool against my sweat-drenched skin. I jerk away from the physical contact. I’m not ready for anyone to touch me.
“Fine.” My words come out clipped and harsh.
“Is something wrong?” Her hand curls around my shoulder like she can’t feel the clammy answer to her question.
“I said I was fine.” Fuck. This is humiliating.
“Bad dream?”
“Sure. Go back to sleep.” I lift my head. Was the room always this small?
“Okay.” I can hear the hurt in her voice, but she lies back down. I look over my shoulder at her. Her eyes are closed. So beautiful with her red hair fanned out around her. So sweet. Caring. Perfect.
I watch as she drifts back to sleep. So easy. Quick. Guiltless. And so goddamn young. It’s an indulgence—watching her—but then I tuck the blankets tighter around her and turn away.
I reach for my wallet on the bedside table and flip to the compartment I rarely open. Inside is the faded photo-booth picture of Natalie and me outside a concert venue in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. My thumb strokes the side of her face. Shit, she was only eighteen.
And you loved her, Charlie says in the back of my head. You still love her.
He’s right. At the time, I even believed I’d marry her.
But that doesn’t mean I should be doing this now. Because of her lie, the last six years haven’t aged her at all. Those same years have aged me by decades.
I’m such a selfish bastard. I grabbed onto her argument about expanded horizons and professional opportunities to justify keeping her with me a little longer. Now I’ve got to pull off a platonic relationship with the only woman I’ve ever wanted in my bed.
I have no choice on that; my head is still too fucked-up for anyone’s good, especially for someone so young. She’d be crushed by all my emotional bullshit if I let her get close enough to see it. For her sake, I hope she’ll change her mind in the morning.
What if she doesn’t? Charlie asks.
I inhale deeply, and my chest expands. Then I’ll make sure she gets all the opportunities New York can provide. I can give her that, at least. Even if I’m not a part of it.
“Ah, Christ. What the hell am I doing?”
I lie back down and pull the blanket up to keep out the lingering effects of my dream. But I don’t close my eyes. I swear I hear Charlie sigh in frustration.
Chapter Thirty
Natalie
I lie still so as not to interfere with Jax’s ability to fall back asleep. It’s two a.m., and he’s going to need as much shut-eye as he can get. Tomorrow’s going to be another early start with a long, ass-flattening day in the car.
As I hover on the threshold of sleep, I hear Jax inhale a ragged breath. “Ah, Christ. What the hell am I doing?”
The question makes a lump rise in my throat. I don’t move. I definitely don’t respond, because I wasn’t meant to hear. What does he mean, what is he doing?
Does he mean with me?
Will I not be going to New York, after all? Is that what he’s going to tell me in the morning? My body is tight, paralyzed. His words sounded so uncertain.
I wait. And after a while I hear his breathing slow, then deepen. I watch the clock flip through its digital minutes, twos turning to threes turning to fours.
Jax sleeps in fits and starts while I come to my conclusion. New York is on. He offered me a job on a trial basis. I won’t let him take it back.
Something is broken inside him. I don’t know what, but only because he hides it behind all the masks he wears. How many different people has he been since I last knew him?
He puts on each persona and takes them off as casually as a sweater, making me wonder who I’m seeing in the spaces in between. Is it smart to want a relationship with someone so unsettled, even in his own skin? He can’t seriously be as detached from everyone and everything as he says he is.
Got no one to check in with.
Jax, that’s just sad.
That’s freedom.
That’s bullshit, that’s what it is. He only needs a little coaxing, a little support, a reminder of the person he used to be. Mix my beautiful, sensitive hitchhiker with the strong, resilient, tough-as nails man asleep beside me, and I’ll find the real Jax. The fullest version of him.
If I can help him find that man, it will be worth wading through all the impostors—as charming as some of them may be.
And if I can’t make that happen…if all I’m meant to be is an employee… My heart seizes at the word. I want so much more than that.
I force myself to take stock of the fact that that might be all he’s capable of giving me. If that’s the case… Well, if that’s the case, then at least I got a little something for myself. I’m off the island. I’ll be in New York. Anything can happen from there.
Chapter Thirty-One
Natalie
Monday Morning
The alarm buzzes. My eyes burn from lack of sleep, and the room smells of warm bodies. The air-conditioning unit purrs with an ambient hum, and my leg is draped over Jax’s thigh.
He’s lying on his back with his hands folded over his chest, like someone in a casket, except his eyes are open and he’s staring at the ceiling. He has to know I’m awake, but he doesn’t look over, and a shiver of doubt runs through me. Can I do this? Can I really do this?
“Jax, is—”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
I press my lips together. I won’t argue. I can do this. “I hope I didn’t keep you up.”
“You were fine.”
Last night I would have made a joke about all the ways in which I was fine. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood right now, so I let it slide.
We get up, shower, dress. We don’t speak. If he doesn’t want to talk, if that’s what he needs, then that’s what he’ll get. I make us both coffees for the road, fixing his the way I’ve learned he likes it.
Once we’re buckled into our seats, he rolls down his window, sighs, then fixes his eyes on the steering wheel. “So where are we going?”
I look over at him. “Um, New York?” I say, in a tone that suggests the answer should be obvious.
“So you haven’t changed your mind?”
“Did you want to renege?” In my head I’m
saying, please say no, please say no, please say no. He grimaces, then pulls out of our parking spot and follows the signs toward the highway.
“No. It’s good you’re giving yourself a chance,” he says, as if he’s trying to convince himself of the same. “I’m not going to be the one who robs you of any opportunities. New York will be a good experiment for you.”
It’s better than a no, but hardly enthusiastic.
So, this is it, then. I’m going somewhere that’s the farthest pendulum swing from everything I’ve known. And I’m going with no real plan, no notice, and without any idea what I’m going to do once I get there. It’s so wild, and the spontaneity of it reminds me of our very first road trip. Thank God I overpacked!
He picks up speed as we fly down the interstate, through a tangle of overpasses, then out of the city. Once the sun is up he says, “You better call home,” like he knows I’m jonesing for it but afraid of his reaction.
“Yeah, okay.” I pull out my phone and call the first name in my favorites. Mom picks up on the second ring.
“Nat?”
“Hey.” We exchange our usual pleasantries before I get down to business. “So, I’m calling because it’s going to be a little longer before I make it home.” My voice goes up at the end like a question.
“What? Are you okay? Are you in trouble?” I turn to the window, seeing the faint reflection of my red hair, along with the random office buildings separated by clumps of trees and slabs of concrete.
“Everything’s fine. But I got a job offer that I’m going to try out for a while.” I glance nervously at Jax and don’t miss the tendon flexing in his jaw. “I’m not entirely sure for how long yet.”
“But you already have a job, Natalie. Jobs. You can’t just up and leave. Where are you going to live?”
That I don’t know yet. Is Jax going to put me up in a hotel? Can I get a month-to-month lease in New York? How about week to week? The motivation for my decision is rock solid; the logistics? More like overcooked spaghetti. Oh, well. It’s not the first time this girl has leaped before she looked.
“You’ll stay with me tonight,” Jax says. “We’ll figure out a long-term plan tomorrow.”
