Love and Relativity

by Rachael Wade

  I walked to the sink, and Carter snatched the plate from my hand before I had the chance to wash it myself. “You’re right,” I said, handing him the sponge. “I guess I’m ready to start picking up the pieces.”

  “Glad to hear it, girl.”

  I let Carter take over and made my way around the counter toward my bedroom. “Gonna shower,” I said, disappearing behind my bedroom door.

  When I returned from a much needed hot shower, Carter and Whitney’s whispers stopped me midstride in the hallway. Unable to keep myself from eavesdropping on their conversation, I stepped back to keep myself out of view.

  “I think we’re better off telling her,” Carter said. “He’s in bad shape, and she’s what he needs.”

  “It’s still too soon. He hurt her. I don’t want her going over there yet.”

  “How are they going to repair things if she doesn’t speak to him?”

  “I don’t know, Carter. Guess he should have thought about that before he screwed Casey, huh?”

  “Don’t get defensive. I barely know the guy, I’m not taking anyone’s side. I’m just trying to help.”

  “You’re right, I’m sorry.” Whitney’s voice went soft.

  “All I’m saying is that he won’t come to her; I’ve been trying to talk him into it all week. He doesn’t want her to see him like this. She has to be the one to go to him.”

  “Is he still camping out in that damn sailboat?”

  “Yeah. He couldn’t make rent this week and they kicked him out of his apartment.”

  “Oh, for the love of—”

  “Is everything okay?” I asked, stepping out from hiding. Carter and Whitney jumped, putting a few inches between them. Carter dropped the sponge into the sink and hurried to fish it out, while Whitney nervously tucked her hair behind her ears.

  “Yeah,” she squeaked. “Just trying to get this counter clean. Damn, I missed a spot.” She scrubbed at the counter with a washcloth. “But uh...I better get to work. I’ll be home by five, okay Em? I thought we could skip Pete’s tonight and stay home or something. Maybe order some takeout and do a movie night.”

  “Okay, sure.”

  She grabbed her bag and raced around the kitchen counter to wrap me in a quick hug. “Drink lots of water and take it easy today. Call if you need me!” She wiggled her fingers in the air, giving me a half-hearted wave as she flew out the door.

  “Emma, if you think you’ll be alright, I’m gonna take off. I have to get some stuff done around my place today.”

  “Oh, of course. I’ll be fine. Thanks for everything, Carter.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He tossed the dish towel on the counter, picked up his keys and wallet, and headed for the door. He hesitated. “Ah, hey, I know it’s not my place to say anything, but...I speak from experience. Being in love with your best friend sucks. It’s the worst kind of love on the planet. When they don’t feel the same, there’s this constant void. And you keep trying to fill that void because it gets lonely, but no one ever measures up. Even when you find a few hours of comfort in someone else’s bed, all you can see is their face. I just thought I’d put it out there, that...I understand where Jackson’s coming from. And believe me, if he truly thought there were any chance for you two, he wouldn’t have slept with this Casey chick.”

  Emotion swelled thick in my throat, and I nodded, blinking the tears back. “Thank you, Carter. I’ll keep that in mind.”He disappeared and the apartment filled with silence, and my pounding headache reminded me it was time for aspirin. Contemplating what was going on with Jackson only intensified the throbbing pain. Was he physically hurt? Angry? Why did he miss his rent? I knew he’d been having trouble with money, but to wind up homeless in his dad’s sailboat within one week’s time? What exactly defined ‘bad shape’, anyway? My mind started working overtime, and then that familiar ache pulsed in my chest, the one that had taken up residence there since I’d realized just how strong my feelings were for him.

  Reaching over the table, I picked up the bottle of aspirin and popped the small, white pill into my mouth, washing it down with a sip of coffee. My gaze focused across the room on my seashell keepsake box, the one I kept on the living room bookshelf. It housed my favorite picture of Jen, and her old bottle of Chanel perfume. Rising to my feet, I drifted over to it, eyes fixed on it as if it were a long-lost key to a secret realm, one that held wisdom and the answer to my soul’s desires, right there, only a fingertip’s length beyond my reach.

  I popped the lid and found the newspaper clipping Jackson had given me in Orlando, still folded and wrinkled from its journey. I folded it carefully between my fingers and turned to grab my keys from the table.

  It was time to put the pieces back together.

  ***

  The late morning sun beat down on my face when I approached the marina. I adjusted my sunglasses and strolled determinedly down the walkway, looking for signs of a beat-up, neglected-looking sailboat. The way Jackson had described his dad’s boat, I expected to find an old hunk of junk. But all of these boats were flawless, with pristine exteriors, each one clean and well kept.

  I stopped the first person I laid eyes on, flipping my shades up to look him in the eye. “Excuse me, do you know if there’s a Jackson Taylor around here?”

  “Taylor? Yup. Third down on the right, just keep walking. It’s the one with the name Sara written in blue.” The man looked at me curiously for a moment, then ambled on, disappearing down the dock.

  Scanning the boats as I walked, I stopped when I saw the name Sara, written in a dark navy shade of blue. My gaze didn’t settle there for long. There was Jackson near the boat’s bow, tan, shirtless, and dripping wet in swim trunks, bent over and digging through a pile of fishing gear. I pressed my lips tight together to keep from gawking, pulling my shades back down over my nose. I managed to take a few steps further, treating myself to a closer look. Sweat beaded up over his tattoo, glistening over the ankh’s black ink in small droplets. He was in bad need of a shave, and his hands were dirty, as if he’d been working under the hood of a car all morning. I vaguely noted that the sailboat was far from beat up; it had a fresh paint job and looked good as new.

  Inching forward, my voice came out quiet, strained. “Hey, Jack.”

  His head shifted in my direction, and when his eyes fixed on mine, he froze. Slowly straightening the curve in his back, he stood and brought a hand to his head, shoving his fingers through his wet hair. “Em.”

  “Your mom?” I asked, pointing to the name on the side of the boat.

  He searched for whatever I was pointing at, his gaze distracted. “Oh, yeah.” He looked away, his fists balling up at his sides. “Did that Carter guy put you up to this?”

  “What? No. No, I overheard he and Whitney talking. They don’t know I’m here. I came on my own.” I fingered a loose strand of hair behind my ear, the awkwardness between us unbearable. “Look, can I...”

  “You wanna come aboard?”

  “Please.”

  He helped me up onto the boat, lifting me at the waist a little, and set me on my feet in front of him. I was never so thankful for the tint in my sunglasses.

  “Here, come inside. I need to clean up.” He led me into the cabin, and I finally removed my shades, taking in the cozy space inside. Dark, rich wood accented the bright white and baby blue upholstery, a tiny stove and sink built into the left side of a cozy breakfast nook. His feet crunched over piles of trash bags, the small floor space cluttered with beer bottles, receipts, and heaps of dirty clothes. Everything he owned was in this boat. “Have a seat if you want. Do you want some water or something?”

  “No, thanks.” I sat on the edge of the couch cushion, wondering how a mess of this size had accumulated over the short course of one week.

  Jackson leaned over the sink to brush his teeth, then grabbed a bar of soap and scrubbed the dirt from his hands and forearms. When he was done, he dropped to the sofa across from me and sprawled out, relaxing his arms across th
e back, legs planted wide apart. His chin was dropped slightly, tilted to the side. “Go ahead, I know you want to ask.”

  “I didn’t come here to pry. I’m sorry to hear about your apartment.”

  He shrugged. “Ah, don’t worry about it. The rent story was bullshit.”

  My eyes widened a fraction. “Oh?” I glanced around at the trash bags surrounding our feet. “You weren’t kicked out?”

  “Nah, I moved out a few weeks ago to start saving my money. This is small, but I can make it work for a while. I own it. Figured I’d make use of it.”

  “Why lie about that?”

  His eyes snapped to mine, and I detected a hint of anger in them, the blue flaring in defense. “I have my reasons. I’m not crazy about the whole island knowing my business, okay?”

  Well, that was new.

  “But you’re okay with them knowing you’re homeless living on a boat.”

  “I am homeless living on a boat. They don’t need to know why.”

  “Why are you?”

  He sighed. “Are you here to say goodbye to me? Because if you are, I’d really like to get on with it, alright?”

  “What’s your problem?” I sat up straighter, irritated with his attitude. If memory served me right, he was the one who told me he loved me, then slept with someone else. When I’d left him standing in Pete’s parking lot last week, he had looked downright devastated. Remorseful. Were the things Carter said true? If anything, I’d assumed he’d want to make amends. I was here because I wanted to move forward, wanted to hopefully say sorry for how I’d hurt him, but the way he was snapping at me wasn’t making it easy.

  “My problem is, I can’t do this shit anymore, Emma. The girl I fucking love is sitting across from me, and I can’t have her. I can never have her because all I seem to do is hurt her, and it’s killing me, alright? Seeing you like that last week...it tore me open and ripped out my insides. It feels worse than the three years I couldn’t touch you combined. There’s nothing left of me, because you have it all. You were right. I am no good for you—not now, and not in the future. I’m done with this back and forth bullshit, so please, just say what you came to say and be done with it, because I can’t fucking take it anymore.”

  I shot to my feet, my jaw clenching. “Fine. You want to sit there and feel sorry for yourself? Beat yourself up for hurting me? Go ahead. But for your information, I came here to tell you I forgive you, and that what I didn’t get to say last week was that I messed up, too. I judged you, jumped to conclusions, and didn’t give you a chance. Yeah, I had legitimate reasons to be cautious given your reputation, but I was mostly just scared. Scared of how much I love you, of how much you really mean to me, and how I would lose you as my friend if things didn’t work out between us. I get that you couldn’t just wait around for me to change my mind all these years, that you....had some sort of void to fill, and I doubt I made it easy for you. I needed you to know that I still love you, and I’m ready to put all this shit behind us. But you’re being a stubborn dick right now, and I just...” Flustered, I tightened my purse over my arm and turned to leave. “Forget it. I’m sorry I even came here.”

  He was in front of me before I could reach the cabin doorway, his hands gripping my arms, turning, then pushing me backward against the stove.

  “You love me? You love me, now? Present tense?” He peered down at my lips, those blue eyes hungrily drifting over my body. I licked them nervously and he swallowed, clenching his fingers tightly against my waist, the muscles in his forearms pulsing in anticipation.

  “Yes.” I braced myself against the stovetop, his carnal appraisal sending me into hot flash overdrive, and holy hell, did it feel too good to deny. Why was I here again? Why were we fighting? What was my name?

  “Then what are we waiting for?”

  “Jackson.” I arched a brow.

  “Emma.” He arched one back.

  “I’m still mad at you. Don’t come any closer,” I said, feebly attempting to peel his fingers away from my waist.

  “Or what?”

  “I’ll...I’ll...”

  “You’ll what? Clean my mouth out with soap?” he cocked his head, peeking at the bar of soap near the sink behind me. Humor flickered in his eyes before darkening to full-on sexy I-like-a-challenge mode. Not that his funny eyes weren’t sexy, because dear God, they were hot. But his determined I-dare-you look was 100 percent panty combusting, and I had zero willpower where it was concerned.

  “Emma,” he leaned in, grazing his nose against my earlobe and then up into my hair, where he paused to take a deep whiff, “stop fighting it. Just breathe.” His breath caused a few loose strands of my ponytail to fall around my face. He caught them and slid them away from my cheeks, hooking them back over my ear. The sensation triggered a chill down my spine and he let out a low sigh against my forehead, kissing it softly, then gently hooked two fingers into the waistband of my jeans to tug me against him. My torso spasmed and heated beneath his touch, and my eyes fell shut. “Open your eyes, baby. Look at me.” He pressed his forehead down to meet mine, my eyelids fluttering open at his command. “Look at me and tell me you don’t want it.”

  I peered up at him with unsteady breaths, hearing his throat work when I tilted my lips to graze his. The contact was feather light, my heart hammering through my chest at the feel of it. “I’m looking,” I breathed against him.

  “Good. Because right now, all I want to do is rip your clothes off and make you come until you can’t stand, and I want your eyes on me the whole time, are we clear?”

  And there went any ounce of willpower I possessed.

  Our mouths met and teeth clashed, my arms snapping around his neck in a vise-like grip. His fingers slid along the inside of my waistband to the center and he undid the top button, simultaneously pressing his erection into me, a near-feral groan emitting from his throat.

  Dear God, if I made it through this alive and conscious, my name deserved to be added to some X-rated category in the Guinness Book of World Records or something.

  “Do you want it?” he exhaled against my lips.

  “Yes.”

  He didn’t have to ask twice. Lifting me up onto the edge of the stove counter, he shimmied my pants down, tearing them from my ankles to toss them to the floor. We yanked off his swimsuit, and I dragged my fingers over his smooth, toned abs, which I was sure I’d have loads of fun running my tongue over. I marveled at the sight of him fully nude. When he went for my shirt, he stopped just beneath the hem, inching his hands up over my ribcage, smoothing his fingers between each rib, feeling as he went. He moved farther north, my heart rate spiking when his thumbs reached the undersides of my breasts. Feeling my nipples beneath the cups of my bra, he lingered for a second, his tongue stroking mine, then snaked a hand around to unhook the clasp at the back.

  “Jackson,” I gasped, glancing down, “I haven’t done this in a while. So I might not be very good at—”

  “Stop right there.” He angled his head down and bit my bottom lip, a sexy-as-hell reprimand. “Come here.” He stepped back a hair to give me room to slide down from the counter. “This is not about what you can do for me, do you understand? This is about me making you feel good and showing you how fucking beautiful and valuable you are. Emma, look at me.” He pinched my chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced my gaze upward again. “You. Are. Beautiful. I will never reject you like he did. Never.” He took my hand and placed it over his erection, forcing my fingers tightly against his shaft. “That’s all you.” Planting his hands firmly on the sides of my thighs, he dug his nails into my skin and spun me around. I found myself facing a small, cracked mirror over the sink.

  Gliding his throbbing erection against my ass, he sucked in a tight breath, and I felt the heat from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. He ripped my shirt and bra off, leaving me standing naked from the waist up. Pulling the hair tie from my ponytail, he let my long, soft waves fall over my back and shoulders, pushing the locks to o
ne side for access to my neck. I squirmed against him, wanting his mouth all over me.

  I moaned as he kissed from the center of my neck to the corner of my shoulder, then dropped to his knees to kiss the tops of my thighs, his teeth roughly grazing the curve of my ass. “You have the most gorgeous ass. And these hips,” he latched onto them, “they drive me crazy.”

  Feeling the heat of his mouth from behind and his callused fingers gripping my hips, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Jackson, please.”

  “Say it, Em. I’ve been waiting so long to hear you say it.” He flicked his tongue across the small of my back and I practically convulsed.

  “I want you inside of me. Please.”

  Standing to his feet, he buried a hand in my hair to reach the scalp, then gently eased my head back against his shoulder, his other hand encircling my waist, fingers splayed across my abdomen. He stroked the swell of my breasts, then eased his fingers into the sides of my panties to peel them off, sliding my legs farther apart, slipping just the tip of his erection inside of me.

  “Better than I imagined,” he hissed, adjusting the stance of his legs. I writhed against him, our eyes meeting in the broken mirror. Each tiny crack emphasized our distorted features, drawing out each jagged line and accent on our faces, each one broken like the mirror, but beautiful. I couldn’t look away. “There are so many things I’ve wanted to do to you.” He pulled the tip out, then slipped in again, teasing, smiling at the sound of my protest. “Want some more?” I whimpered and nodded, and he repeated the torture, slipping in, stilling slowly, then sliding out, causing my entire body to spring into thousands of tight coils.

  He stopped teasing and turned his focus to my front, his fingers gliding down below my navel, rubbing slowly and rhythmically until I lost control and met the friction with soft, pleasurable moans. He had me coming in seconds. I cried out his name and splintered all around him, my head dropping forward while I gripped the edges of the counter for support. He rocked into me with a low, husky intake of breath, and when I looked up into the mirror again, he was watching only me, his eyes fierce and full of want.