"Why? What's going on?"
"Just call her. She's freaking out. She misses you. You guys need to get together when we get home."
"We won't have time."
"We'll make time, Jessa. She's your best friend, and she's losing you. You need each other right now."
He's right. We can push our trip back a day. It's not like we're rushing to get anywhere, except we kind of are. We're racing the clock. I can feel myself getting weaker every day. I sleep more than I ever have. My hair is falling out. I'm forgetting stupid things. What's next? Will I forget my own name? Will I forget how to speak?
We don't have the time to waste, but I also need to make sure that I spend as much time with the people I love before I go. So far, that list has only included Jackson. Amber needs me. My parents will need me. Alex will need me. Maybe we should forget the rest of the trip. Maybe I need to reassess my priorities.
"I'll talk to her. We may need to rearrange a few things."
"We can do whatever, whenever," he says reassuringly.
Amber and I make plans to see each other as soon as Jackson and I return home. She wants a girl’s night out, just the two of us. As long as my parents don't flip out, I told her we would make it happen.
"Where are you two headed now?"
"The tattoo parlor," I reply with false excitement in my voice.
"You're really going to do it?"
"It's on the list, Amber."
"That doesn't mean you can't chicken out. You made that list a long-ass time ago. Plus, you hate needles."
"That's true, I do. You would think with as many times as I've been poked recently that I would be used to them, but I'm not."
"Are you scared?"
"To death," I reply without thinking. The line goes silent, and that's when I hear her start crying. "I'm sorry, Amber. I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean it like that."
"I know," she says between gasps. "It's just hard to think about and hard not to think about. Ya know what I mean?"
I do. I completely understand what she's saying. Trying not to think about dying is like trying not to breathe. I can only do it for so long before I feel like I'm gasping for air.
As soon as she's calm, we say our goodbyes. I'll see her in a week if all goes well.
"Ready?" Jackson asks as he turns off the car.
"As I'll ever be, I guess."
Now that we're here, it’s real, and I'm nervous. Needles scare the crap out of me. For that reason alone, I've decided to get my tattoo on my back so I don't have to see it. I'll know it's there, I'll know it's poking me, but I won't be able to look at it.
"Did you decide what you're getting?"
"I've known for a while," I admit. He's asked a few times, but I didn't want to tell him. I still don't. I'm afraid he'll think it's stupid.
"Well..."
"You're just going to have to wait and see," I tease as I open my door and get out.
"First the hair and, now, this. Are you ever going to share with your fiancé, or do you plan on keeping secrets from me?"
"Secrets are more fun."
"Secrets don't make friends. Didn't anyone ever tell you that?"
"Good thing I don't want to be your friend," I say, winking at him as I walk through the door.
#7 Get a tattoo
As soon as all the waivers are filled out, Clint, Jackson's friend, takes me back to a secluded room behind a curtain. Handing him a piece of paper, he nods his head and asks me to lie flat on my stomach.
While he preps his instruments, which I don't watch him do because I know what he's working with, he explains the process to me from beginning to end. He promises to give me a moment to breathe if I need it. After I hear him stop moving around, he asks me if I'm ready.
I'm not, so we sit there in silence for a few minutes.
"Are you sure this is what you want, Jessa?"
"It is. I've always wanted it, I've just never had the courage to get it before now."
"You're shaking. Are you sure you have the courage today? You can always wait a few days, come back and see me when you're sure."
"I don't have a few days," I mutter. Should I elaborate? No. What's a guy with tattoos covering most of his body going to care if I'm dying? It's not like he can change anything. In fact, all I'm doing is wasting his time and mine right now. Let's get on with it.
The sting of the needle seems to disappear as my skin becomes numb. I do the best I can to relax, but my body resists my efforts.
"Take a deep breath," Clint says after a while. "We're about halfway done."
"That's all?"
"You've only been on the table for twenty minutes. How long did you think it was going to take?"
"I didn't think about it, but it feels like I've been here for at least an hour."
Laughing, he replies, "I'm starting again."
Before I can say anything snarky back, the needle hits my skin, and I go breathless.
"Breathe."
Thanks for the reminder. It's not like I didn't know I needed to do that. But hey, he's the expert. If breathing is required to get me off the table, I'll play along.
There I go again getting bitchy. I really need to work on that. At least, this time, I kept my thoughts to myself. I'm afraid that I'm going to get myself in trouble eventually when the words do sneak out at the wrong time.
Another thirty minutes and I'm back in the lobby where Jackson's been waiting for me. He's reading a magazine when I walk in, oblivious to the fact that I'm done. Or so I think.
"Did she cry?" he asks without looking up.
"Only once," Clint replies from behind me.
"Damn it. I thought she'd cry at least a dozen times. I guess you win. How much do I owe you?"
"It's on the house, man. No charge."
Looking over my shoulder at Clint, I see something in his eyes that I hadn't noticed before. Beyond the tattoos and piercing, there's a kind and sensitive man. I shouldn't have had to look this hard to notice. He's been there the entire time, I just was being judgmental.
"No, really. What do we owe you for the art?" I ask.
"Seriously, it's on the house. I haven't seen this prick in years. If this is what it took for him to visit my shop, I'm not going to charge you. Plus, I kind of feel bad for you. You're stuck with him for the rest of your life."
My laughter turns to a cough as I choke on his words. If he only knew I wasn't stuck with him as long as he thinks I'll be.
"Consider it a wedding present."
"Well, thank you. I appreciate it."
"My pleasure." Turning his attention to Jackson, who's somehow managed to sneak up next to me without my noticing, he says, "Make sure you help her take care of that the next few weeks. You know what to do."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll take care of it."
"Excuse me," I say, pretending to be offended. "One, I'm standing right here. Two, I can take care of it myself. Three, he doesn't even know what I got, or where. How is he going to help me take care of it?"
Looking from Clint to me and back again, Jackson's eyes become heated.
"Where is it?" he asks through gritted teeth.
"My back," I chirp, knowing my words had the intended purpose.
"Oh, thank God," he replies. "I thought I was going to have to kick your ass again."
"Again?" I ask.
"That's a story for another day," Jackson replies.
"Or you could forget the story altogether and keep my reputation with your fiancée intact."
"Nah, what fun is that? Plus, if she likes you now, she'll like you later, too. That's just how she is."
"Again, standing right here, guys." It's like they're in their own world.
They both laugh as they say their goodbyes. My shoulder blade is starting to hurt a little, especially after Jackson brushed against it. It took all I had not to cringe.
Sitting sideways in the seat, Jackson drives us back to his parents’ house. I'm hoping tonight is going to be quieter than last night. Aside from Thomas,
the rest of his siblings went back to their respective homes this morning. All of them live in or around Detroit, so that doesn't mean they won't be back, but my fingers are crossed. I'm looking forward to a nice relaxing evening before we hit the road in the morning.
As soon as we're back to the house, Jackson insists on removing the bandage. It's been almost an hour, so I agree to let him. He's like a kid in a candy store after he closes his bedroom door behind us. There's excitement in his eyes, curiosity in his gaze. He stares me up and down, waiting for me to remove my clothes. Just to prolong things–I'm enjoying the way he's looking at me–I don't make a move.
"So... where is it?"
"Let's play a game," I say. "You guess a piece of clothing I need to remove to show you my tattoo. If you're right, I'll lose the clothing. If you're wrong, you lose your clothing. Deal?"
"I'd like this game better if you removed your clothing even if I was wrong."
"Yes, but then you'd just be getting me naked."
"What your point?"
"That is my point."
"Oh well, I like my idea better," he says, mimicking my stance. His hand is on his hip; his hip is popped out. When his head tilts to the side, I bust out in laughter.
"Fine. We'll play your way, but as soon as you guess the right piece of clothing, the game is over and you have to help me take off the bandage."
"Deal."
My pants come off first, of course.
Then my undies.
He's not even trying to find my tattoo.
Walking around me a few times, close enough to touch me but keeping his hands to himself, he finally makes his guess.
Throwing my socks at his face, he tsks me.
"You should be taking your clothes off, too. Why am I practically naked and you're fully clothed? That's not fair," I pout.
Without a word, Jackson strips himself of all his clothing. "Better?"
"No. Now I want to have sex, and we can't do that."
"The hell we can't!" he screams, sincerely outraged at my statement.
"Your parents might hear us."
"Do you think they care? We're engaged, Jessa. Plus, they probably assume we're already sleeping together."
"Do I look like that much of a slut?" I feign being offended, clutching my hands over my heart.
"Right now, yes," he replies seriously.
Shaking my head, I try to focus on what we're supposed to be doing right now and not on Jackson's growing manhood. Every time I look at him, it grows even more. I've never noticed that before. At the same time, we've never stood naked in a room together for this long without having sex.
Don't get me wrong, I've admired his body many times, normally in the shower or while he's sleeping. Never this way. I kind of like it. It makes me feel scandalous.
"I have one more guess left," he says, drawing my attention back to his face.
"Uh huh."
"Take your shirt off, Jessa."
Doing as he requests, I slowly remove my shirt, doing the best I can to not disturb the bandage. Pulling it over my head, I toss it on the floor next to the rest of my discarded apparel. As much as I was teasing Jackson with our little game, I enjoyed myself. After we take care of my tattoo, I'd like to enjoy myself a little more. I just need to figure out a way to keep myself quiet. I'm not very good at that when it comes to Jackson. Probably because I've never had to be.
"Turn around," he says, taking a step closer to me.
The moment his hand touches my skin, goosebumps break out. His touch is gentle as he lifts one corner of the bandage, slowly pulling it up and away. There's a cold rush of air across my tattoo as the final piece of the bandage is pulled away.
"You'll be with me wherever I go," Jackson whispers. "Nine, Nineteen."
"Alex's birthday," I answer.
"That's sweet," he replies. "He did a great job. The infinity symbol stretches perfectly across your shoulder blade and the shading is going to look great once your skin isn't puffy."
"I know. I like it a lot."
"Will you show him?"
"Who? Alex?"
"Yeah."
"Maybe once I tell him he's mine. We have bigger things to deal with right now. I don't want to add more stress to his life than he needs."
Letting the conversation fade away, Jackson dabs my tattoo with a wet washcloth, following the instructions Clint gave us to the letter. After it's washed and dried, we crawl into bed. It's only a little after five, but I'm exhausted from running around all day. I need to close my eyes and rest for a few minutes.
Just a few minutes.
That's all I need.
Chapter 16
A few minutes turned into hours. Why Jackson let me sleep that long I'll never know. I woke up at two o'clock in the morning, ready to take on the day. Only, it wasn't daytime anymore. It was the middle of the night and I was wide awake. Instead of lying in bed, awake and alone, I woke Jackson up–nicely, of course. He was happy to oblige my request, before going back to sleep an hour later.
Now, it's just after eight and we're packing up to leave. I was hoping to get to know his parents a little better, or at least his mom. It seems like we would have hit it off. Now I'll never know.
On our way out, Gail asks me to keep in touch with her about wedding plans. She pulls me in for a hug when I promise to do so and whispers in my ear.
"Thank you, honey. You make him so happy. I wish he had found you a long time ago."
"He makes me happy, too," I reply, making eye contact. I want her to see the love I have for her son is real and not something she could potentially write off later when he tells her more about me.
The rental car is waiting for us at the curb, our driver letting us know he's becoming impatient with our lengthy goodbyes by honking twice. Waving, I say a prayer, hoping that this isn't the last time I get the chance to see his family. I want to know more about them and about Jackson as a kid, and I want them to know me.
As soon as we're on the road to Jackson's cabin, I check the weather for the next few nights. It was overcast in Grosse Point last night. I couldn't see one star in the sky. The weather up north is supposed to be better, but if it isn’t, we may need to wait a few days before moving on. The northern lights are amazing from what I've heard. Worth the wait if it's necessary.
Resting my head against the window, my eyes threaten to close. I slept great last night. I don't feel tired. My eyes, on the other hand, have a heaviness to them. It's as if they are tired even though the rest of me isn't. That's a first.
When I used to travel for work, I would be in a different city every week, sometimes twice a week. The first night as I crawled into an unfamiliar bed, exhausted from work and traveling, I would have to fight my eyes to close. My body could be worn out, but sleep wouldn't come easily. There were even nights I never slept because of it. Today is the opposite.
I hear Jackson calling my name. He sounds far away. His hand is on my arm, though. How is that possible?
"Open your eyes, Jessa. We're here."
Pushing away the fog of sleep, I open my eyes to see that the car has stopped. I must have slept the entire drive, almost four hours.
"I'm sorry," I say, pushing off the window, sitting up in my seat.
"For what?"
"For falling asleep on you. I wasn't even tired."
"I've done this drive alone a lot. Don't worry about it."
"When was the last time you were here?" I ask as we step onto the porch.
The cabin looks small, maybe one or two bedrooms. There's a porch that spans across the front with two rocking chairs on each side of the door. One of the shutters is falling off as if it hasn't been tended to in years. The front door has paint chipping off it, as does the siding. It's cute, but in need of a little work.
"A while," is all he says as he slides the key into the lock.
Dropping the subject because I detect a note of sorrow in his voice, I follow Jackson quietly inside. It's quaint, perfect for the two of
us. In the living room on the left, a small sofa and a recliner face a fireplace. I'm guessing that's his dad's favorite spot. On the mantel are a flat-screen TV and some family photos.
On my right is an open door to a bedroom. Peeking my head inside, I find there are two sets of bunk beds in there. Has it been that long since his family has come up here together?
Keeping up with Jackson, I follow him into the kitchen, the focal point of the main room. For such a small place, the kitchen is large. There's an island with six stools and a giant refrigerator.
"Over there is the bathroom," Jackson says, pointing to a closed door. "Back there is our room."
Walking toward the only other door off the main room, I turn the handle and run my hand along the wall for a light switch. Flicking it on, the room comes into view. What I see not only amazes me but surprises me as, well.
"My parents wanted this to be their retreat after we all grew up. They were planning on moving up here about five years ago. My dad even spent an entire summer up here remodeling the place for mom."
"What happened?" I ask.
This room is unlike any other. You would never expect such a nice space judging from the outside. The walls are light blue with white wainscoting. The ceiling has been lifted. There's a fireplace on the wall facing the giant king sized bed. The bedding is even pristine, rivaling some of the nicest hotels we've stayed in.
"He ran out of funds. I told them I would send them money, but they refused to take it. He went back to work so he could finish, but a few months in, he threw out his back. He had to retire again. Now, he can't work on it with his injury. My brothers are too lazy and neither of them has any idea how to use a hammer. That leaves me, and I live too far away to make it happen."
"It's going to be amazing when it's done. I think your parents will love it, especially your mom."
"She hasn't seen it yet."
"Any of it?"
"Not any of the remodel. Dad told her she couldn't see it until it was finished. I don't think he thought it would take this long."
I walk over and run my fingers over the bed spread. "I don't think we should stay in here. This is your parents’ room."
"Well, I'm not staying in the kid’s room, so it's our only choice."
Chasing Fate Page 14
