by Ava Claire
There was a part of me that wanted to shake sense into her deluded head and tell her the last person she should ever emulate was our mother. Instead, I plastered a grin on my face and said, "Well, if you're gonna be a cheerleader, I should teach you a move or two."
Rose had given me a standing ovation when I modeled a cartwheel. When I was done demonstrating it a couple of times, I even tamped down the bitterness and lied when she asked if 'mommy' had been the one to teach me.
The only thing our mother had taught me was to expect nothing, so when I got nothing, I wouldn't be disappointed.
Rose had plenty of bitterness to spare, her angry voice pulling me from the past and dropping me back in the present.
"Remember the time Mom came to the football game to watch me cheer? Or showed up at a competition? Or showed me a few moves from her glory days?” She paused for a moment, then finished, “No? Me neither."
She snatched the pot from the stove and I gasped on the inside, picturing water scalding her because I was picking at the wound. Poking it until it bled.
My worry was unfounded because my sister handled herself, carefully pouring the noodles into the strainer. When she put aside the pot and turned to me, steam shrouding her face, I could have sworn I saw the tiniest bit of nostalgia rippling across her face.
"Yes, I remember," she said finally. "Why?"
I bit my lip, tears immediately rushing to my eyes. "I can't remember the last time I was just there for you like that. Not because Mom was on the warpath. Because you're my sister, and that's what sisters do."
Her mouth fell open slightly and the nostalgia I’d seen quickly turned to something else. "Sadie..."
Her voice broke and I bolted to her, wrapping her in my arms. We were bonded by a lot of things; superficial things like our deathly pale skin and eyes that you couldn't look away from, our love of singing along to the radio at the top of our lungs, and a steel will to make it, even if we had to go it alone. Apologies didn't come easy, but clinging to each other, we both said we were sorry over and over again until we were laughing and crying.
Rose wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve, flashing me the first megawatt smile I'd seen in months. “Clearly, I went overboard on the onions in the sauce."
"Clearly," I sniffled myself, taking in the spread so far. From the simmering pot of pasta sauce to garlic bread toasting in the oven and the Caesar salad that she'd already put in bowls, I was impressed. "From the looks of things, you've graduated from the Sadie McLeod Culinary Institute to Cordon Bleu."
She brought a hand solemnly to her chest. “Just so you know, I'd take your infamous fried bologna and cheese sandwiches over fancy schmancy any day."
"You're just buttering me up so I don't complain about your non-stop Law and Order marathons," I joked, picking up the two of the bowls of Caesar salad. I frowned when I did quick math and saw a third bowl of salad. I flicked my eyes to the right. Three plates waiting for the spaghetti. Three Dixie cups beside them. "Are you expecting company?"
Rose was suddenly very interested in stirring the sauce. "You know how you were just all lovey dovey and ‘Yay sisterhood!’? Remember that and don't get pissed at me, okay?"
I slowly lowered the salad bowls to the table, not sure where she was going with that request. "I don't understand."
My answer came in the form of two knocks at the door. I was too stunned by the fact that I had some unknown visitor to wrangle her for more information. It didn’t matter much because she bounded toward the door, making herself right at home.
She popped on her toes and let out a squeal that was almost identical to the one she'd made years ago when she found our mother's hidden treasure.
Rose yanked the door open. "Come on in!"
The third bowl I was holding in my hand went crashing to the floor when I locked eyes with our visitor.
Jackson Colt was standing in the doorway, clutching a bouquet of roses.
Rose made a 'ta-da!' motion with her hands. “Surprise!”
~
“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”
I knew Jackson was trying to lighten the mood. It was his thing, using humor to combat awkwardness.
I had no interest in it.
I was speechless, pissed, and feeling really awkward because the guy I’d been pointedly, painfully trying hard to not think about was standing in front of me. In my apartment. Holding roses like that’s all it took to make everything good between us.
The bowl seemed to still be out of sorts too, still rattling from its quick descent to the floor. I felt the lettuce glued to my bare feet, dressing oozing between my toes. Rose had dropped her little act and was biting her lip so hard I was sure she was gonna draw blood. And Jackson—well, Jackson was still clutching those roses and I couldn’t stand looking at them. Couldn’t stand the ‘awww’ that fluttered in my chest.
I tried to distract myself with the rest of him, but that didn’t do anything to calm me down. I thought he was enticing before, his naughty edge mixing with the sleek suit in a way that made my pulse race whether I wanted it to or not. He’d traded the suit for a plain white tee that was anything but plain on his muscular body. All the hard lines of his toned physique teased me beneath his shirt.
Just standing there was a form of foreplay. I wanted to ball the fabric in my fists and rip it off of him. I wanted to push him back against the door he’d just strolled through, pressing my breasts against his firm, powerful body. I wanted to glare at him as I told him how it was.
1.) He would never treat me like I was forgettable again.
2.) We were going to go somewhere—the hall, the alley, his car—away from Rose, and I was going to fuck him like he’d never been fucked before.
I tried to behave myself, to cling to my anger, but the rest of him wasn’t any less arousing. Jeans on the rack were nothing too gush about. On Jackson, they were sinful because my eye shot to his crotch immediately. I knew what was behind that zipper. I knew how it felt deep inside me.
What was he doing to me? This was why I hadn’t responded to his texts, even though I could feel him reaching out to me. Saying everything but how sorry he was. I didn’t fault him for not apologizing because it was something I struggled with too...I faulted him for tricking me. I thought he was different; more than the other overly cocky, entitled men who treated me like I was something they could own and throw away once they got their fill. I faulted myself for believing that maybe I’d found someone worth taking a risk on. And now, all he had to do was invite himself to my apartment with some flowers and I was supposed to be welcoming? I don’t think so.
Tiny apartment or not, he wasn’t close enough that he could see just how happy my vagina was that he was here. I’d be damned if I let him get close enough that my heart would jump on the bandwagon and I’d be left vulnerable, just like I’d been when he practically ran to the exit.
“Let me help you with that-”
“Stay right there.” I shut him down, steeling myself as I held up a hand to stop him from coming any closer. We were not about to recreate what happened at The Red Room, even if we were off to a similar start.
That’s what you need to focus on. He doesn’t get to sweep in and out of your life when he feels like it. As delicious and hopeful that the Jackson Colt rollercoaster was, it definitely was not worth the risk of devastation that would hit when the ride inevitably came to an end.
“Sadie,” Rose squeaked, taking the tiniest step in my direction. “Don’t freak out-”
“Are you kidding me?” I let out a disgusted laugh. “I don’t know what you did, but you don’t get to ask anything of me right now. I get to ask the questions.” Ignoring the sticky goop marinating on my feet, I focused my anger on my sister. “What did you do?”
Jackson winced uncomfortably, realizing that something was awry. “Maybe I should go-”
“Filthy rich and smart, what a catch!” It came out as mean and bitter as I’d intended, but I still wished I could
take it back. I ignored the pricks of guilt that stung my throat and held tight to the fact that I had every right to be upset.
My sister had done something and so had Jackson. It didn’t matter what their intentions were, the result was the same. They were forcing my hand and now there was salad on my feet. Rose was doing her doe-eyed ‘Don’t be mad at me’ thing that always ensured I couldn’t stay mad at her, and Jackson was looking at me like maybe he was wanting to make another quick exit.
“I don’t know what’s going on here,” I began warily. “I don’t even think I wanna know what’s going on here-”
“Well, if you take a breath, I’ll tell you,” Rose cut in, the doe eyes being replaced by steely green determination that I’d seen reflected in my own mirror. She shook off her worry and fear of my anger and marched right up to me. She dropped to her knees, flipping the bowl right side up. She tightened her ponytail and swept her strawberry blonde hair over one shoulder. Before I could tell her not to try and help me, that she'd helped enough, she gave me the same STFU look I'd given her and Jackson.
“I'm sorry that I'm in your business and that I did what I did, but I know you, Sadie. You're just like me. You're just like-”
'Mom' went unspoken, but our nostrils flared in unison anyway. Her emotion was all over her face, her fair skin flushed, just like mine. The McLeod sisters: we would lose everything in a game of poker.
The floor creaked behind her, reminding her of Jackson’s presence and she pushed through her discomfort, putting the moment of self perceived weakness behind her. That she got from me, and it broke my heart. I let vulnerability become something ugly and unacceptable instead of something that was human and natural.
"Despite your best efforts, I saw that you liked Jackson. More than you were ready to admit to me, or yourself." Rose gathered up bits of lettuce and croutons and sprinkled them back in the bowl. "You were taking a nap and I saw that he texted you. I know I had no right, but you would have walked away and I know you would've regretted it. Even if all it ended up being was telling him off for being such a colossal idiot." She tossed the last bit over her shoulder at Jackson.
I was sure he was definitely regretting his decision now, but he didn't leave.
"Fair enough," he muttered, looking down at his bouquet. "I should have bought more roses."
I dug my nails into my palm because I flat out refused to reward him with the laugh that rose in my throat.
Rose glanced back at him, giggling before she returned to me and saw that I had no giggle to spare. “Sorry, he’s funnier than I was expecting.” From the way she pointedly raised her eyebrows, I had a feeling he was hotter than she was expecting, too.
I crouched down beside her, laying on my waning irritation as thickly as I could. “So, you gave him my address and invited him to my place?” I gathered up the last bits of salad and snapped back to my feet, ignoring the welcome feel of Jackson’s eyes on my body. One of the first things I did when I got home was tearing off my bra. Since I had the next two days off, my apartment was a bra free zone. I knew I didn’t look nearly as sexy as he did in a t-shirt, but from the way he was drinking me in, I was the reason words like ‘sexy’ existed in the first place, t-shirt and all.
I dropped the soiled food in the trash, focusing on wiping dressing from my toes, not the erotic warmth that was making it hard to concentrate on being pissed.
“This isn’t a movie, Rose.” I flipped on the water and forced my sticky fingers beneath the spray. “How did you expect this to go?”
“I’d scarf down some spaghetti, get to know the first guy I can remember you liking enough to even get pissed at, then head to Starbucks for a few hours to give you two some privacy.”
I blinked. Unmoving. Completely at a loss for words.
My view from the window was the brick wall of the building squeezed beside my own, but I couldn’t look away. I hadn’t been ready for the full play-by-play of ‘Operation Butt in my Big Sister’s Business’. And I definitely wasn’t prepared for the fact that my feelings for Jackson were more evident than I thought.
By the time I remembered to breathe, that I could focus on how we got here or figure out what came next, Rose was pulling her tennis shoes on and headed toward the door.
She walked up to Jackson and held out her hand. “Good luck. Knowing Sadie, you’re gonna need it.”
“Thanks,” he smiled.
God, his smile. I saw it all, everything I never knew I wanted, in that smile. There was a safety in it, that told me that he wasn’t like the rest. It wasn’t because he was at my house and armed with flowers. Any guy could be persistent and come bearing gifts to show how sorry he was. There was something else that lied behind that playful sparkle. It begged me to root it out and see that he was someone worth taking a chance on.
As if I needed more to confuse me and make walking away that much harder, he plucked a rose from the bouquet and handed it to my sister. Her gasp of surprise, quickly followed by her nearly knocking him off his feet when she threw her arms around his neck, was the final nail in my coffin. I was a goner. How was I supposed to resist a guy that made my sister believe that all those fairy tales were true after all? A guy that made me want to believe too?
Rose pulled the door shut behind her and I was left with the man that I couldn’t let go. As annoying as her invasion of privacy was, there was a part of me that was to blame. In the car, I’d recalled the blue eyes that were gazing at me now. Gazing into me. I couldn’t decide if they were closer to the color of the sea or the sky.
The answer seemed like a trick. They were both too perfect. I had to do more to remember the man who'd walked away, not the guy in front of me who was tugging every one of my heart strings.
I couldn't take those eyes. They'd be my undoing, and I wasn't ready to undo anything. Or take off anything. Even if I really, really wanted to.
I didn't trust that my first words wouldn't be, "I missed you" so I didn't say a thing. I crossed my arms and jutted my bottom lip out and pretended like I was as angry as I'd been when I first saw his face. Before my heart and other quivering parts of me chipped away at all the reasons he was horrible for me and I was left with something even more dangerous than getting my heart broken.
What if things worked out?
What if I fell in love with him?
What if I had already fallen?
My bottom lip shook, just like the iron spine that had never failed me before. The heat in his gaze was there and when he licked his lips, my core instantly sighed, like I could feel his tongue unraveling me.
"I missed you too, Red."
I thought letting him go first would force him to dig himself out of the ditch he'd put us in. Slowly. Painfully. I'd been prepared for a joke, then I would roll my eyes and hold on to my annoyance for a few more minutes. Instead, he had to go and read my mind and throw in the nickname that just felt right every time he said it.
So I just stood in front of the sink and gawked at him. I couldn't figure out a single retort to fire at him. I couldn't hurl any facial expression in his direction besides shock.
He mirrored my surprise, asking if he could come closer with his eyes, then deciding it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. "I had no idea that the texts were from your-" He realized no introductions were given and stopped mid-sentence.
"Rose is my sister," I answered carefully, breathing a little easier now that I hadn't said what my body was screaming. You're here. You came back. "And as you can see, she can't be trusted around my phone."
He shrugged his shoulders and gave me a smile that made me glad I was leaning against the sink because my knees felt weak. "I can't be too mad at her, she got us back in a room together." He stopped directly in front of me. The only thing between us were those flowers. The faint, soft smell of the roses matched something stronger and masculine and it took all my pride to not inhale that scent and hold it in.
"The last time we were in a room together you couldn't wait t
o escape."
There was no edge to my words. No bite of rightful anger. There was just his body and the heat that radiated from him, roping me in.
I clenched my fists and stared at the roses. Just the roses. I wouldn't be liable for my actions, crazy as they would be, if I kept looking into his eyes.
He swept a hand through his luscious dark locks. ”Since you weren't technically ‘you’ before, I wanted to say I'm sorry for the way I left the other night. It was more than disrespectful. It was dismissive and-"
"It was bullshit," I finished for him, still eyeballing the roses, which were beautiful. But I was still mad. Furious. Pissed. Angry.
I raised my chin when he dropped the roses on the counter behind me. The truth reared its ugly head. I was lonely. Afraid. Falling.
Horny.
Against my better judgement, I put a hand on his chest. I wanted to push him away. To pound his chest in anger. Instead, I fisted his t-shirt and yanked him closer to me. I had enough anger left to not just kiss him. Never mind how sexy his lips were. Never mind how delightfully infuriating his smirk was.
"If you ever walk out on me again-"
"Never," he swore, without hesitation.
There should have been a tiny voice in my head that snorted, ‘Yeah right’. That inner voice that was used to disappointment and knew that happily ever afters only existed in fiction.
When I let go, I realized that maybe I didn’t know everything after all.
Chapter Seven: Jackson
Her lips were too damn close to not kiss.
My head told me that I should tread lightly. Even if those intense eyes of hers were finally letting me in, daring me to kiss her, the rational part of my brain told me that it could very well blow up in my face. She hadn't accepted my apology, after all. The text that I thought was the beginning of something new hadn't even come from her. Her jaw was still pulled tighter than a bowstring. Her face, so delicately sexy that I worried if I was too presumptuous she'd shatter me into a million pieces, gave me pause.
