by Rachael Wade
“A car crash.”
“Yeah, I guess you heard.”
“She was a pretty girl. Saw her picture in the newspaper. I’m sorry.”
“She was, thanks.”
“So now you’re second guessing whether or not you’re leaving because you want to, or because you’re trying to live the dream for your sister.”
“I guess.”
“And you love this boy, this ninny who won’t stay with you if you leave, so you want to know if you can avoid the heartache all together and stay here. Stay with him.”
I nodded, not thrilled to hear it put out there so straight like that. Then again, they were the same thoughts running around in my mind since Jackson first decided to call things off. But they were far from easy to admit.
“Let me tell you something, honey. Fifty percent of life is others trying to push their own agenda on you—their belief system, their views, their convictions. The other 50 percent is you deciding whether or not you’re going to let them. Or if you’re going to form your own opinions.”
“So you’re saying...”
“There’s no doubt you’ve been influenced by your sister’s wishes. But at one point or another, you made a decision. For yourself, not for her, which means leaving is just as much your dream as it is hers. The reason for your decision doesn’t matter. So what if you’re doing it because she wanted to? You still chose to commit, didn’t you? She didn’t do that for you. Bottom line, there ain’t no easy way out of this thing called heartbreak, kid. Sounds to me you’re on the right path, but he just isn’t on it with you.”
All of my weight slumped, pulling my shoulders down. I let my feet dangle back over the side of the bed, resting back on the heels of my hands. “Crap.”
“Did you give him a choice to follow you?”
You didn’t give him one, did you? my mother’s words came back to haunt me, echoing in my mind.
“No...not really. I mentioned it, but he never gave me a chance to talk to him about it, and I was under the impression he didn’t want that anyway.”
“What are you waiting for, then?” Scanning her expression for any sign of sarcasm, I stood when I found none. “If peace of mind is what you’re after, then it’s time to put the ball back in his court.”
It was time indeed.
Before I did that, though, there was one more thing to take care of first.
Chapter 13
The tide swirled at my feet in rushes of spinning currents, gathering and lapping at my toes, then falling back toward the ocean as if to knead at my thoughts before it extracted and washed them away with its motion. The late afternoon sun beat down on my face and shoulders, my cardigan slung casually around my waist. I turned and began strolling down the beach, my shoes in one hand while the other smoothed my ponytail’s flyaways. I meandered closer and closer to the lighthouse, stopping before I squished my toes into a mound of seaweed.
Glancing out to the east, I sighed and swiveled on my hip to pull my backpack from my shoulders. Squatting down, I set the bag on the sand and zipped it open, retrieving the small tea tin. I popped open the teal-colored lid and cupped my hand over it to protect it from the wind, then rose to my feet and stepped closer to the water until the tide was once again rushing over my feet.
I wasn’t sure what I expected it to be like, standing there, staring down into the tin at the obituary’s ashes, but I knew I was surprised at how ready I felt. That awareness tugged deep at something comforting in me, a weightlessness that brought with it a sense of ease and a desire to let go. I closed my eyes and envisioned myself falling over a cliff, my arms splayed wide like a bird’s wings, surrendering to the force that would soon take over. Lifting my feet from the ground, my heels tipped back and a peaceful smile floated over my face, increasing when I leaned back and let myself fall from the ledge. My balance was gone, no more foundation beneath my feet, nothing to hold me steady. Only wind and air and nothingness as I plummeted, falling fast toward that much needed relief.
I opened my eyes and the vision evaporated.
Dipping my fingers inside the tin, I grazed the burnt paper with my fingertips before reaching in farther to scoop up the remains. Cradling them gently in my palm, I lifted and stretched out my arm over the water, staring at my knuckles for a moment.
To the future, I said to myself, taking in an eyeful of my surroundings. This beach and this part of the Gulf of Mexico were only glimpses of the vast universe I lived in, but in those few seconds, they seemed like a complete, whole world, engulfing me and accepting my offering. Slowly opening my hand, my fingers uncurled and spread wide, sending the charred pieces of paper up and into a flurry. They were seized by the wind, then scattered into a fanciful poof, carried up, out, and over the ocean, leaving my soul soaring and heart aching in a mixture of bittersweet joy.
Goodbye, Jen.
Closing the tin and breathing deeply, I scanned the Gulf’s horizon before turning and heading for my car, knowing that with every end, there was always a beginning, nipping right at its heels.
This was far from over.
***
The happy tears swam in my eyes and I blinked frantically to force them from my lids and down onto my cheeks. My hands gripped the steering wheel tight, my knuckles white. I had no idea how Jackson would react or what he’d say when I spoke to him, but as I pulled up to the marina, I knew one thing: He’d told me that he’d try and make things work if I could forgive him, so I needed to give him another choice. I needed him to know there was another option on the table.
I also needed to know that he wouldn’t rescind that promise.
Rushing up the shop stairs to Carter’s door, I delivered an anxious knock and waited.
“Emma,” he said, surprise flitting across his face. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to speak to Jackson.”
He glanced down at my fingers. I was tying them in knots, fidgeting uncontrollably. “Jackson? Uh...are you okay?”
“Yeah, just antsy,” I mumbled, moving forward to slip past him. I searched for Jackson the moment I stepped inside. “It’s just really important that I talk to him, while I know what I want to say and have the nerve to—”
“He’s uh...he’s not here, Em. I’m sorry.” Lifting his fingers to his lip ring, he glanced around with me, pushing out a whooshing breath from his lungs.
“Okay, is he out? Did he have a meeting for that new job? I don’t care, I’ll just wait here for him...if that’s okay with you.”
He cleared his throat and shut the door behind me, moving toward the kitchen counter. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Water’s fine, thanks.” I walked to the couch, played with the toss pillow for a second, then sat, bringing my nervous fingers back onto my lap.
There went Carter’s throat clearing again.
“How about you?” I asked, shooting him a wary look. “Are you okay?”
“When I say drink,” he inched closer, shoving his hands in his pockets, “I mean something stronger than water. Would you like something?”
“No,” I laughed, eyeing him curiously. “I’ll be okay once I talk to him, I’m just a basket case right now. Do you know what time he’ll be back?”
“Actually...uh...I don’t think he’s coming back.”
“What? Oh, did he find a place he can afford? Is he moving out?”
Carter went still.
“Jackson’s gone, Emma.”
“Okay, gone as in...”
Biting down on his lip, he ruffled his hair and turned for the counter, pouring me a shot. “Gone as in gone.”
“Why? Where did he go?”
Carter set the shot in front of me, stationing himself on the edge of the coffee table, his eyes level with mine. “I don’t know how to say this. Shit, I didn’t expect you to pop over like this. I figured he’d call you or something and talk to you himself.”
My ears and cheeks suddenly went hot, a combination of embarrassment for coming o
ff so eager, and anger that Jackson didn’t mention anything about moving when I ran into him last night.“Talk to me about what?”
“He did have a meeting for his new job, but it’s not here.”
“Okay...”
“It’s not on Sanibel Island. It’s not...anywhere in Florida.”
My fingers started to tingle and the warmth in my ears and cheeks vanished, a cold, pale flush replacing it, spreading over my skin like sharp ice. A disbelieving laugh rippled through me. “I don’t understand. Why would Jackson leave Florida for a job?”
“An opportunity came up and he decided to take it. His flight left an hour ago. Shit, I’m so sorry.”
I rose to my feet, every part of me tensing. “What? Where the hell did he go?”
He winced at the question, his lips pressing down into an uncomfortable frown. “Unfortunately, I can’t say.”
“What, you don’t know? He didn’t tell you where he was going? What about Ruben or Jeff? They have to know.”
“He didn’t say goodbye to them either. They don’t know. And I can’t tell you. I promised him I wouldn’t say anything. It’s between you two.”
“What?”
“I mean, I’m not at liberty to say.”
“You’re not at liberty to say?” My tone was infused with sheer confusion, finally seeing the shot glass dangling in front of me. I snatched it and downed the liquid, squeezing my eyes tight as it rushed down my throat.
“Maybe you should sit back down.”
“Maybe you should tell me what the hell you’re talking about. What do you mean he left Florida? That can’t be...that’s not....Jackson would never.” All the blood rushed to my head and I took Carter’s advice and sat back down on the edge of the couch.
“He started planning this when you guys split up. When the job opportunity came up, he wanted to start fresh. Ending things with you tore him up...as you’re well aware. He wanted a clean break, to give you your space and let you move on.”
I stood again, drifting over to the counter to pour myself another drink. I chugged it back and start pacing. The pacing didn’t last long. I was in Carter’s face within seconds. “Carter, you have to tell me where he is. You can’t seriously expect to keep something like this from me. He can’t expect you to keep that from me, it’s insane.”
A pained look passed over his face, one full of conflict and compassion. “He doesn’t want to be found, Em. I swore to him I wouldn’t get involved, and I intend to keep my promise.”
“Doesn’t want to be found?” That wasn’t what he said when he left me writhing against Carter’s bathroom wall. Did he change his mind? Did he not want my forgiveness anymore? For me to find him? For me to love him? None of it made sense.
My mouth started to go dry, and the pacing began again. There was no way he was possibly anywhere but Florida right now. He was adamant about staying in Sanibel. Hell, I was sure it’d take an Oscar-worthy speech today just to try and convince him to move with me. And even then, I wasn’t very optimistic.
This had to be a joke.
“You’re telling me he’s had this planned...so you knew? Whitney knew? You guys knew and kept all of it from me...for Jackson?”
“No. Whitney doesn’t know anything about this. This was between me and Jackson. I helped him.”
“You helped him.”
“Yeah. He’s been a good friend to me, Em. Helped me through some tough shit when I moved to town. We tried keeping his plan quiet, but I was sure he’d talk to you about it before he left. At least let you know he was moving away.” He messed with his hair and mumbled under his breath. “Damn it, Jack.”
“This...this can’t be happening. Just last night he told me to come find him when I was ready to forgive him. Said something about making things work no matter what.”
“Wait a minute.” He stopped fidgeting and shuffled closer. “What did you come here to talk to him about? Getting back together?”
A gave him a solemn nod, then found my shocked daze resting itself on his shoes. “I was going to ask him to move to Seattle with me. I just wanted to put all this bullshit behind us and see if there was a chance...” my voice cracked, “if he meant what he said...but now...” Now Carter was telling me Jackson was gone and wanted zero contact. Now I knew New Year’s Eve meant nothing. Or if it did, Whitney was right and it was just a desperate plea, a cry of impulsive loneliness on Jackson’s part.
Now I felt dizzy.
“Oh my God.” Carter’s eyes widened at my admission and he started playing with his lip ring again, one hand restlessly gliding through his hair. His gaze was distant now, searching, analyzing.
“What is it?”
“Nothing, it’s just...he never would have left if he’d known...shit, this is so screwed up.”
“He would have left no matter what. He had this planned.” My eyebrows crinkled. “How did he have any money to go anywhere? He was broke. Was he working at the club again?”
“No. He made an arrangement with his new employer. He has a place to stay,” he half answered, the words rushing out. He focused on me and spoke up, making sure I heard what he said next. “Look, when he calls me, I’m going to tell him you came by and—”
“No,” I said softly, gathering my purse and heading for the door. “Please don’t tell him about this. You keep the promises you make, right? Can you make me that promise? You won’t tell him?” I was beyond embarrassed, and it was time to let this go.
“But I think he should know you came here today. He needs to know what you came here to say. Maybe you guys can straighten this—”
“Please. Just leave it alone. This never happened, okay?”
Carter remained silent. Torn. His expression would’ve normally tugged at my heartstrings, because I could tell he was really at a loss for what to say, but instead it only made me feel worse.
Finally, he answered me.
“If that’s really what you want.”
“It’s what I want.”
He helplessly walked to the door to hold it open for me.“Wait, Emma?”
I stopped, my lifeless stare cast down.
“I promise, soon enough you’ll see that he left because he loves you. And if the timing were different, if he were here to hear what you just told me, I’m sure things would’ve worked out differently.”
“Thank you, Carter.” I forced a sad smile. “We had our chance. It’s just time to let it go. I guess he did us a favor. When you talk to him, please tell him I wish him the best, okay?”
With one hot tear spilling down my cheek, I walked out, the pounding pain in my skull numbing me as I descended the stairwell.
I was wrong.
This was over, and not every end meant a new beginning.
***
The alarm clock rang with a shrill pierce to my ears. I sat up, soaked in sweat, my thighs and hands shaking. Jackson’s scent filled my nostrils, the heat from his skin warming my own. I slid up against the headboard and pulled the sheet tight to my chest, gripping it beneath my chin. Letting out a soft cry, I realized some of the moisture on my face wasn’t from sweating. The tears had saturated my lashes and cheeks, the salty taste wet on my lips.
And then I remembered the dream.
Jackson’s lap was warm. He smelled like coconut, his skin sticky from sunscreen. I breathed him in and opened my eyes, my gaze rolling upward, travelling over his neck and cheekbones until they landed on his blue irises. They stared down at me, soft and full of some unnamed emotion.
I looked away.
“Can I make you some soup?” he asked, standing and lifting me with him, carrying me over to the recliner. He draped me across it and then covered me with a blanket, brushing the hair from my eyes.
No answer.
“Okay, how about pumpkin pie?”
That earned him a small smile. It hurt, but seeing him return the effort with his own grin was so worth it.
“Soup is fine, thank you. Aren’t I interrupting your Friday ni
ght fun? Don’t you have a fight to pick or a girl to chase around or something?”
He walked to the stove and opened a can of Chicken Noodle. “There are six other nights of the week I can fight, and plenty of girls to chase around after you leave.”
“If you say so.”
“Just relax. Sleep if you want. I won’t let anything wake you.” Pouring the soup in the pot, he reached over to the counter to snatch my cell phone and turned it off, then fished his own from his pocket and turned it off, too.
The word ‘sleep’ was a hypnotic balm, immediately sending me into a hazy state until I drifted on the recliner and the world went away. I woke on my own at what felt like an hour later, my eyes scanning the room for Jackson and the soup he’d promised.
“I’m right here,” he said softly. My gaze fell on him and I swallowed hard, slowly shifting to sit up in the recliner. He was shirtless and soaked with sweat, lounging at the tiny kitchen table, tinkering with some kind of fishing pole and a tool box. “I went for a run when you passed out. I kept the soup warm on the stove.” Setting the pole down, he wandered over to the stove and poured me some, carrying it over with a spoon and napkin. Every muscle on his smooth, tanned abdomen rippled as he leaned over to hand the bowl to me, his scarred, calloused hands nearly swallowing the small blue dish.
“Thanks.” I set it down.
He sat next to me and eyed the bowl, draping an arm over the back of the sofa. He gulped at his beer. “Not hungry anymore?”
“There’s something else you can do for me that will make me feel better.”
His eyes drifted to mine. I inched forward and leaned into the crook of his arm, bringing my hand to his chest. His sweat chilled my skin and sent a shudder through me.
My lips found his throat and then the curve of his neck. The muscles there jumped against my lips, and his free hand found mine on his chest, where his heart was pounding wildly.
“Emma,” his voice came out hoarse, “I don’t think—oh, fuck,” it turned into a whisper when my fingers travelled down to his lap, rubbing and stroking in a slow, sensual attack. I stopped rubbing and slipped over his knees to straddle him, my fingers finding his thick hair as I bent down to capture his mouth with mine.
