by Odette Stone
“What?” I blinked in confusion. Green eyes shifted to my face and then back to Matt again.
Matt snorted. “Jackson here likes to stroll into any situation, find the hottest chick and then the rest of us get his leftovers.”
My mouth dropped open at Matt’s crude comment. “Matt!”
“The worst part about it is that it won’t mean anything to him,” Matt sneered.
I swallowed hard, knowing that now I had to tell Matt I had kissed Jackson. I shut my eyes momentarily and the entire room went off kilter. I grabbed the counter to find my balance.
“You’re hammered,” Matt looked at me with something close to disgust.
I just needed to get this over with.
“Matt, I really need to talk.”
He stepped back. “Em, why do you always pick the most inappropriate times to want to talk? You have the worst timing of any person I know.”
My mouth dropped open at the barely concealed venom in his tone. Why was he so angry at me? Did he somehow already know that I had kissed Jackson?
“Okay,” my voice was meek. Against my will, my hands reached out to grab his arm. He shook me off. My eyes followed him as he walked back into the living room to take his place beside Katherine.
Jackson looked down at me. His expression was unreadable.
“He’s mad,” my voice sounded sorrowful. “And I haven’t even told him yet.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
Why was I always dumping my issues at this man’s feet? I had to stop being such a train wreck around him. I needed to stop being so needy.
I tried to switch gears by asking him, “Did you have fun tonight?”
His expression didn’t change.
I swallowed a huge lump in my throat and lied. “I think you and Julie make a nice couple.”
“You should go to bed.”
“You’re scowling.”
He looked over his shoulder at Matt and then looked back at me. “I'm going to help you upstairs now.”
I carefully stepped, wobbling only slightly. “I can do it myself.”
Jackson walked around the island and before I could react, he scooped me into his strong arms, holding me against his chest. I stared up at his beautiful face as he began to move with ease up the stairs.
“Carrying another person up the stairs is dangerous,” I worked to enunciate my words.
He glanced down at me. “I can carry another guy my size on my back.”
I blinked, noticing from this angle, just how long his eye lashes really were. Was it like firefighters? Did they have to carry someone as part of qualifying for his job? “How long do you have to carry the other person?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“If we are five miles away, and he’s hurt, that’s how far I carry him. If we are ten miles, than that’s the distance we go.”
I frowned at him. “But what if you get tired?”
He pushed into my room. “Getting tired isn’t an excuse. You just get the job done.”
“I can take it from here,” I said. I struggled to lift my head from his chest.
He lay me on the bed and stood looking down at me.
“The room is spinning.”
“Keep your eyes open,” he said, as he moved to the foot of the bed.
I felt two warm hands on my ankle. Unable to lift my head, I realized that he was working on the strap of my high heel. I decided to let him since I didn’t think I would be able to manage it.
I stared at the ceiling fan. “Do me a favour?”
“What.” He pulled off one shoe and moved to my other foot.
“Can you and Julie not be too loud?”
“What?” He sounded harsh.
I lifted my head. “When she comes up here as your sophisticated overnight guest.”
“Julie isn’t coming upstairs.”
I dropped my head back on the pillow. “She would if you asked her.”
He sounded pissed. “I won’t be asking her.”
His breath warmed the skin on my ankle as he worked on my shoe.
“Matt said you were getting lucky.”
He tugged my other shoe off. Standing up, he towered over my bed. “I'm going to get you some water and aspirin.”
He disappeared out the door. I struggled to sit up. I needed to take my pants off. I unbuttoned them, but decided that I could shimmy out of them while lying down. I got them halfway down my hips but they got stuck.
Jackson reappeared, pausing at the door when he looked at me.
“I can’t get my pants off,” I said, my eyes shut. “Can you help?”
A glass clattered as it got set down on the nightstand.
“I thought Matt was the lightweight.”
“Just pull them off,” I said.
The bed depressed next to me so I opened my eyes. He had one knee on the bed and he looked down at my pants.
“Did you have fun tonight?” I stared at his perfect face.
“It was fine.”
“I hated tonight,” I said with a sigh. “Tonight was bad.”
Green eyes clashed with mine. He held eye contact while his huge hands traced over my bare skin at my waist. A small noise squeaked out of me. I lifted my head and watched as his fingers grabbed the fabric of my pants. He tugged the fabric down over my hips and down my thighs before pulling them from my body.
“How come tonight was so bad?” His voice sounded very casual.
I lay there, staring up at him. Too drunk to care that he was looking at me in my undies. “Everything was bad.”
He grabbed the quilt and pulled it over my body.
“Why?”
My body hurt but emotionally I felt like a complete train wreck. Part of my mind knew I shouldn’t talk, but for some reason, I could not make myself shut up.
“Just…Matt’s co-worker. She answered his cell. And he didn’t even tell her that he was my fiancé.”
Jackson listened.
My hands fluttered above the quilt. “I know she’s an important person but I'm important too.”
“You are.”
“It made me feel bad.”
“I bet.” His expression was solemn.
“And I feel bad about other stuff.”
“Like what?”
“You know.”
He stood there for a long moment without speaking. “Tell me.”
“The kiss,” I whispered.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told you, that was not your fault.”
I blurted, “I feel bad because I liked it.”
He put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath before blowing it out slowly. “Emily, you're going to hurt tomorrow.”
“I already hurt.”
***
I bolted to the toilet. Sometime in the middle of the night, I had taken off my blouse and now I shivered in just my bra and panties, as I clung to the toilet bowl, and repeatedly spewed my guts.
“Matt,” I called weakly. Then I barfed some more. I flushed the toilet. Acid burned my throat. Tears were streaked down my face. “Matt.”
The hallway light turned on and then a figure in the doorway blocked out the light.
“Matt?” I asked before turning my face back into the toilet and retched some more. The night light went on in my bathroom. A soft glow flooded the room.
“No, it’s Jackson,” two big hands, pulled my hair back, while my body worked to cleanse itself.
“Can you go get him?” I gasped. He walked to the sink, wet a face cloth and crouched down beside me. I struggled to lift my head. He gently wiped my face.
“Where is Matt?” I stammered as I dropped my chin to my chest.
“He left.”
My head jerked up. “Where did he go?”
He shrugged. “I think he went out with some of the guys. I don’t know.”
I wiped my nose. “I feel really sick and I threw up in my hair.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I
know.”
“You don’t have to help me,” I said, wanting to cry. “This goes way beyond the call of duty.”
He stood up and I heard the shower door open. Water turned on.
“Come on,” he said, “You will feel better after a shower.”
I shook my head. “I will just stay here.”
Two hands went under my arm pits and he hauled me onto my feet. “In you get.”
He pushed me into the walk in shower. Clad in only my bra and panties, I staggered and clutched the wall, feeling incredibly dizzy.
He stepped in behind me and reached around me to adjust the water temperature. He pushed me to stand beneath the warm water. I shut my eyes and let the water pour over me. I felt big hands slick my hair back off my face.
“Turn around,” he said.
I faced him, my eyes still shut. Strong hands shampooed my hair before tilting my head to rinse. When he was done, I dropped my forehead, leaning it against his chest. Strong arms wrapped around me. I sighed as I leaned against his warm, hard chest.
“You feeling better?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Come on,” he took my hand and led me out of the shower. I shivered, my arms crossed over myself. He wrapped a big towel around my shoulders and started to rub me dry. I trembled with cold.
I stared at him in a fog. He was dripping wet. Rivulets of water ran down his huge chest. His drawstring fleece shorts were soaked and clung to his body.
“Aren’t you cold?”
“This isn’t cold,” his face was a mask of concentration as he rubbed first one arm dry and then then other. He turned me around and I felt him roughly rub the towel over my back. Down one leg and then the other. Then the towel wrapped around my back.
He disappeared into my bedroom and came back with a t-shirt and a pair of dry panties. “Can you manage this?”
I nodded and waited for him to leave. In shaking legs, I pulled on the dry clothes. I brushed my teeth but was unable to look at my own reflection in the mirror. I was the hostess from hell. How much did Jackson hate his life right now?
I staggered to my bed and looked down in horror.
Chapter 16
Jackson reappeared at the doorway of my bedroom. He had pulled on sweats, a t-shirt and a worn baseball cap.
My voice sounded sad. “I barfed on my quilt.”
He walked over to stand beside me. “Just a little bit.”
Tears choked me. “Why isn’t Matt here?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know.”
He reached down to my bed and started stripping the duvet cover off the bed and then stripped all the sheets off my bed. I stood there and cried. There was a strong possibility that I was still a bit drunk. He carried the linen out of the room and I heard the door of the washing machine slam shut.
He walked back into the room. “Do you think you're going to be sick again?”
“No. Sorry.” I covered my face and tears continued to stream. “I'm so sorry.”
“Emily.”
I sat on my bed, my face still in my hands. “Which guys did Matt go with?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he say when he was going to be back?”
“No.”
“What time is it?”
“Just after 0400.”
“Don’t you think he should be back by now?”
“I really don’t know.”
I nodded, wiping my face. “Okay.”
He crouched in front of me, his concerned face looking up at me. My smile trembled on my lips. “Thanks for your help. I can do the rest. You should go get some sleep.”
“I don’t need much sleep.”
I swallowed. “How come?”
“It’s my job. When we are engaged, sometimes we are up for 48 hours straight.”
“What does engaged mean?”
“When we are fighting.”
I pulled in a deep shuddery breath. “Do you have to shoot at people?”
He lifted his hat on and off his head, then he squinted up at me. “Sometimes.”
“Oh,” I swallowed thinking. “I think your job sounds really bad.”
His laugh was short and low. “Do you want to wait downstairs? I'm sure Maddie will be home soon.”
“Okay.”
He stood and offered me a hand. We walked downstairs. I stopped when I was on the second last step. The entire place was spotless. Everything gleamed. Wine glasses were washed and hanging in the wine rack. Chairs had all been put back. It looked like a showroom.
“Did you do this?” Blowing out a breath, I stared at him.
“Come on,” he tugged on my hand. “Let’s get you on the couch.”
I sat and he grabbed a blanket and hauled it over me. “Lie down.”
I looked up at him. “Will you sit with me?”
He paused for such a long moment, I was sure he would say no, but then he nodded. “Sure.”
He sat on one end, and I lay on the length of the couch, my knees up, and my feet next to his thigh.
He looked over at me. “Do you want some water?”
I shook my head. “Thanks for sitting with me.”
A smile ghosted across his face. “That’s what friends do.”
I shifted my legs. My feet were cold. I burrowed them under his thighs.
He looked at me. I snatched my feet back up. “My feet are cold.”
He grabbed my feet and pulled them onto his lap. He wrapped one warm hand around my foot.
“They are cold.” He wrapped his other hand around my other foot.
“Your hands are better than socks.”
Another smiled tugged at his mouth.
I stared at him. “Why did you clean everything up?”
He shrugged.
My self-loathing reached an all time high. My shoulders hunched. I deserved reproach, not his kindness. I freaked out at my own party, I kissed him, my friends sexually harassed him, I barfed and then I cried. “I bet you're wishing you never stayed here.”
“Not true.”
“Why are you so nice.”
His laughter was harsh. “I'm not nice, Emily. Not even close.”
“You’re nice to me.”
“Go to sleep. You will feel better if you sleep.”
***
I was half conscious when he got up off the couch.
“I’m just switching the laundry over,” he said.
I failed to open my eyes. “Okay.”
***
“Come on sweetheart.” I felt myself being lifted and then I was snuggled up against something hard and warm. I curled up, burrowing into the warmth. My head rested on a heater that rose and fell with each breath. I squinted. I was cuddled up against Jackson’s chest. My arm drifted up around his waist. I felt warm and so safe.
***
Voices woke me up. I was lying alone on the couch.
“What’s she doing down here?” Matt’s voice. He sounded annoyed.
Footsteps jogged down the stairs. “She threw up on her bed.”
“Oh, well fuck,” Matt said. “Serves her right. She was hammered last night.”
“What the fuck are you doing, Matt?” Jackson sounded pissed, but his voice was quiet.
A harsh laugh from Matt. “Oh this is rich.”
“That girl is so in love with you. She will do anything for you. All she wants from you is to spend some time with her.”
Matt slurred. “You have no fucking clue what you're talking about.”
“I know who you fucking left with. Seriously?”
“Don’t fucking start with me.”
“You’re messing up a good thing here.”
“Jackson. You have always been so fucking jealous of me, haven’t you?”
“This has nothing to do with me. Open your eyes.”
“My eyes are wide open.”
“So when your fiancé is sick and calling your name and you aren’t home and she’s crying because she knows that so
mething is up but she can’t wrap her mind around it.”
“Just shut the fuck up. Jackson. God. Don’t even fucking start with me.”
“I’m trying to prevent a train wreck.”
“You want to know what a train wreck is? Cynthia Clymore.”
“You're still upset about her? She was your girlfriend what, when you were 15?”
“You fucking stole her from me,” Matt’s voice escalated about four decibel levels.
“I didn’t steal her. I didn’t touch her,” Jackson’s voice remained calm.
“That isn’t what she told me.”
“Well, she lied.”
“You never wanted me happy. Everything I had you needed to break.”
“Come one man. I'm not the one breaking what you have here.”
“Cynthia. My family. You came into my home and stole my family.”
“Like I had a choice about coming to your home.”
“You could have said no.”
“I was 7 years old. I arrived there kicking and screaming. I wanted to stay with Ted.”
“Bullshit. You wanted my life all to yourself.”
“Why the fuck do we have to rehash the same old shit we were dealing with when we were kids? Huh? I was 7 years old and Ted spent more time in jail than he did at home. Looking back I guess I should have just manned the fuck up and dealt with it.”
“Poor fucking you. Always the same crying bullshit.”
“Yeah, well I have no idea why I'm here, since you're the one who begged me to come here. Yet you so obviously don’t want to have anything to do with me.”
“You’re such a dick. You know that man? Like everything you do, you just do to spite me.”
“Not true. It may come as a complete surprise to you, but I think of you as family. I want the best for you.”
“You want my fucking life.”
“No, I want you to open your eyes and see what an amazing life you have before you fuck it up.”
“I’m not the one who fucked my life up.”
My eyes were wide open and my heart pounded in my chest. I pushed myself to sit up and look over the back of the couch. Matt and Jackson stood nose to nose. Matt shouted his points but Jackson’s voice remained moderate. Matt compared to Jackson looked small, yet he looked like he wanted to tear Jackson apart.
I climbed to my feet. “What’s going on?”
Two heads rotated in my direction. Matt tossed up his hands. “I can’t deal with any of this shit right now. I have to go.”
