by Tigris Eden
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to town?” He asks with a scowl on his face.
“I wanted to surprise you Jax.”
Jax?
Who the hell is she calling Jax?
“Well you succeeded. What do you want?”
Vivian smiles at him with stars in her eyes. She clearly still has feelings for him and from the look of hurt on Jackson’s face, he probably still has feelings for her.
Welcome home, Annabelle Macon.
The woman who is obviously the nanny steps up next to Vivian holding a sleeping Ava. I can’t see her face, but I do see her curly dark brown hair.
“Jax, I’m so sorry,” Vivian begins. “Jax, things were happening so fast. Then there was Ava. I didn’t know how to tell you, or whether you would even take me back.”
I’m standing way too close to Jackson, and I want to run. Need to get as far away from their intimate conversation as possible. Clearly, Vivian doesn’t see me as a threat. She may have even counted on him being in a relationship with someone when she arrived. But Vivian knows she has an ace in the hole, and she’s right. But I can’t bring myself to leave. I have to hear it all. Witness it. Otherwise, I’d go crazy. Making up shit in my head of what I think could, or did happen between the two of them. Don’t make yourself crazy. How could I not make myself crazy? I’m standing here, bearing witness to what most women want to avoid. Baby mommas.
“Ava? Who’s Ava?”
I want to blurt out the answer, but can’t. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. Somewhere inside my throat is a thick wall blocking all the accusations and hurt I want to say but can’t. This is just too awkward of a moment to have an Anna meltdown.
“Our daughter.”
Silence follows then. It’s as if everything stops. Time. People. Life. Hell, I think the weather is on standby right now.
Vivian pulls the sleeping child from her nanny and the little girl wraps her arms and legs around her mother, content to go right back to sleep. There is suspicion in Jackson’s eyes as he looks at the woman and her child.
“Why now, Vivian? Albert not to your liking? Paris not enough for you? How about Milan or New York? You show up here five years later with a kid in tow and expect what exactly? You want me to play daddy? Support you and the kid? No. I don’t think so, not without proof. You might as well turn around get back on that plane. I’m not a sucker, Vivian.” He sneers her name. She really must have done a number on him in the past.
“Jax, you don’t mean that. I know how much you wanted kids.”
“Yeah, I want kids. I plan on having a shit ton with my Anna.”
Hold up, what? I look up at Jackson’s face, but he is still staring at Vivian. This isn’t exactly news, but we haven’t really talked about kids since the first night we were together. I’ve been taking my pills, religiously.
Jackson didn’t like that I was, but until I got the words, and knew he was going to be in my life permanently, none of that was going down until he put a damn ring on my finger.
“Anna?”
She looks to me and then back to Jackson.
“What, you two married or something, because I don’t see any rings?”
“Anna, get your stuff and let’s go.”
Jackson pins Vivian with a stern glare.
“You go home. I don’t want you here causing trouble in my town. Take your kid and go back to Albert.”
I grab my bags, still in shock, wondering if I’m in some induced coma from breathing the plane’s recycled air. Jackson pulls me past others as we make our way outside to covered parking.
“You’re walking too fast, Jackson.”
His two strides are four of mine. He doesn’t answer me, but slows his pace.
Once in the truck, he starts it up and takes off down the highway. We have at least an hour before we make it to my mom’s house. I’m not scared of Jackson by any means, but the situation back at the airport made for an extremely awkward moment.
“Are we gonna talk about what happened back there?” I ask quietly.
“Fuck no. We’re going to your mama’s house and then to my place to get you unpacked.”
“Okay, but at some point, we’ll need to talk about it.”
Jackson’s knuckles tighten on the steering wheel, his jaw tenses. I can tell he’s pissed. There’s nothing but dead silence. Trying to get him to talk is like trying to lead a dead horse to water.
Mom is on the porch watering her plants when we pull up. She adores Jackson with every bone in her body.
“Ah, my sweet baby girl. Mama’s so glad you’re home.”
She pulls me into her arms, hugging me tightly.
“How’s my Anna?”
Pearl Macon always calls me her baby girl. It is a comfort that makes me feel extra loved.
“I’m good mama, how about you?”
“Oh, you know me. Surviving. Your Sheriff’s been moping around town. When you’re not around, he’s a surly one. Even tried to give me a ticket for speeding.”
I mock gasp and turn to wink at Jackson who is still stuck in a rut. My mother looks over my shoulder and steps out of our hug so she can go to him.
“Get over here and give Mama Pearl some lovin’.”
“Ma’am,” Jackson says, pulling her into a hug. It was mechanical. He’s still angry over the whole airport situation and I have no idea how to make it right. I am at a total loss.
“I made some sun tea. Ya’ll come on inside and sit a bit. Then I’ll let you two go and break some walls down.”
“Mama!” I scold. She’s never held back words, and feels the need to over share, or in our case, insinuate we only want to have sex.
“I was once young too. I know what y’all are going to be doing when you get home.” My mother smiles wide, grinning from ear to ear.
Jackson again says nothing. He’s usually talkative when it comes to my mother. Instead, he walks inside and takes a seat in the front room.
“Baby, can I get you some tea?” I ask. Hopeful that he’ll at least respond.
He doesn’t.
I don’t ask again. Maybe he is in shock. Jackson remains quiet for most of our visit. Tea with my mom goes normal. She talks and I listen for what lasts more than an hour. I feel bad because I know my man has a lot on his plate. There’s a knock at the door and in walks the Mayor of Beauville.
“Well, hello there Annabelle, just stopped by to have a talk with your mama.”
Which simply means it was time for their visit.
“Sheriff Storme.”
“Mayor.” Jackson tips his head before standing. The sound of the plastic scrunching beneath his body is loud.
“Anna, we need to get to the house.”
Back to the house. Not home.
This is a lot more serious than I took it for, and I already placed it high on my ‘uh-oh’ scale. This feels more like a shit storm.
Give and Take: Chapter 5
When we make it back to his place, I’m pissed. Jackson hasn’t said one word. Not one. I watch as he manhandles my bags, almost breaking my camera.
“Don’t take it out on my bags, Jax.” I nearly sneer the last part. Which is the wrong thing to do, because when I used the nickname Vivian had obviously given him, his back straightens and the look in his golden orbs are murderous.
“We’re not going there tonight, Anna. Got too much shit on my mind.”
“Like Vivian and your daughter Ava?”
“Grow the fuck up. I don’t have time for baby shit.”
Baby shit.
“Baby shit, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“Something like that,” I whisper. “Something like that.” I say more to myself than to anyone else. I storm into his kitchen and start pulling out pots, screaming at the top of my lungs as cabinets slam and pots rattle loudly. I slam the pot in my hand down on the counter. I don’t want there to be any mistake about how his words make me feel. I’m not confrontational, but today
has been a doozy. Like any sane person, if enough buttons are pushed and I feel cornered, well, people better back the fuck up.
“Something like that my ass, Jackson!” I scream.
I find a pot for grits. That’s what I need. Grits. I place the pot under the sink, filling it with water.
“Anna, what the fuck are you carrying on about?” Jackson asks, standing in the entryway to his kitchen. His kitchen! Not our kitchen, his.
“What the fuck am I carrying on about? Oh, I don’t know, I’m over here flipping out over baby shit, Jackson! Baby shit! Honest to God, Jackson, you can be such a dick sometimes.”
I walk over to the stove with my pan, the water sloshing over the sides as I drop it down on the burner, and set the flames on high. I totally understand we were both thrown for a loop. I get it, but people who get the shock of their lives are supposed to talk things out. At least that’s what I’d been taught. Not go dark and just brood about it. Either he does or he doesn’t have a little girl who is five years old. I can’t begin to understand how finding something out like that could put a damper on things. But I’d at least try to talk about it. That’s the normal thing to do.
I push past Jackson, heading towards the bedroom. I’m moving my shit into the guestroom. No way am I going to speak to a man, let alone sleep with one, who doesn’t want to communicate. Oh hell no. He has another thing coming if he thought for one second, one single second that I was going to put up with his shit.
He did say you were having his babies. So, what did that matter? Men left all the damn time. I’m not stupid, nor do I have my head stuck in the clouds, thinking everything is going to work itself out. I am trying to be smart about everything that’s happened. I’m nobody’s fool. I may be madly in love with him, but I’m deeply committed to my need to survive. I know I need to be cautious and keep my head out of the clouds. I need to be careful. That is the only way this will work.
Jackson’s on the phone when I make my way back to the kitchen. Moving from his room to the guestroom didn’t take that long.
“What the hell, Mom? You don’t just take her in.” I hear him say.
Corrine Storme never had a soft spot for me growing up. With Joey as my best friend, I was privy to her brand of mind games. I was a constant reminder of where she came from. At least, that’s what my mother said. Corrine told Joey once that my mother was the ruin of a great man. She was talking about the mayor, of course. My mother isn’t one to hurt people. You can’t help who you love. At the time, I was too young to understand that Joey was the product of Corrine hurting Jackson’s father, Logan. Pot meet kettle. Corrine needed to look in the mirror before she went on to pass judgment on other people. My heart wants Jackson. If little Ava is his daughter, and Vivian is here, that meant she wanted him back. She wanted to make her family whole. Maybe a better woman would have stepped aside. I don’t know for sure, but what I do know, is– I’m not going to stand around and let another woman come in and disrupt what I have with Jackson. The question I have to ask myself is– am I ready for the type of responsibility that comes with loving Jackson? Am I getting in the way of his ready-made family? Is my love for Jackson enough to sustain the life I envision with him? Hard questions that require a yes or no answer, Anna.
“Your wrong mother—I don’t care—So—You marry her then—If, and that’s a big if, if Ava is my daughter, I’ll take care of her. I always take care of my responsibilities.”
I know the conversation is over when he appears in the kitchen and leans against the counter. He crosses his arms over his chest and scrunches his brows. He looks all kinds of confused. My heart would have had me walking over to him, but my mind keeps me on target. We were so going to talk this shit out. Jackson looks to me and then the boiling pot on the stove.
“Seriously, Anna?” He raises a concerned brow in my direction. “I know about the pot and the grits.”
“I’m hungry,” I lie.
Every Southern man south of the mason Dixon knows when a woman puts on a pot of grits in the middle of the day or night for that matter, it’s time to back down, fess up, or admit defeat. Otherwise, said man will suffer third-degree burns.
“Right.”
“Well I am. Long flight. Surprise attack from a model you not only dated, but possibly knocked up, producing your offspring. Oh, and apparently I’m not good enough to be seen with you in public.”
Jackson’s eyes widen before he pushes off the counter and walks toward me. Stomp is a more accurate description.
“I am not now, or ever gonna be ashamed of you, Anna.”
“Yeah?”
“Woman, are you deaf?”
“Maybe. But I sure as hell ain’t blind. You let go of my hand the moment you could get free.”
“Because I was angry. She threw me for a loop. Me letting go of your hand was so I wouldn’t squeeze it to death. Last time I saw Vivian was the night before our wedding.”
I flinch. Literally, flinch as if my momma’s hand, or any hand for that matter was going to come down and slap me across the face.
“Your wedding?” I whisper. Still shocked.
Wedding?
What wedding?
How did I not know this? Why hadn’t Joey told me something as significant as her older brother getting married?
Because you made sure to steer clear of all things Jackson.
True. I left Beauville to make a name for myself, but my biggest reason was so I could rid myself of Jackson Storme and his long line of bed partners. I figured if I wasn’t going to be one, I didn’t want to watch others get the honor I was constantly denied. Absolutely pathetic, Anna.
“You were going to marry her?” I say a little louder, my voice cracking. In my mind I’m thinking, of course he’d marry her. I wasn’t his type. I’m just some random girl to him. Someone he ran game on at the Annual Fourth of July picnic. I just happened to hang tight longer than any of the others. My insecurities are rising faster than I can calm myself down. I was turning into that girl. The girl that was stupid crazy for a man that wanted nothing real with her.
“Dammit, Anna, how is that even relevant? I got bigger issues to worry about.”
“Right. Like your ex-fiancé and your five-year-old daughter.”
Jackson lets out a long, tired sigh and places both hands on the fridge, caging me in. His forehead’s resting against mine and he is just as angry as I am at this point. Both of us are at the end of our rope.
“Baby. It’s been a rough day for us both. You want to shut the stove off? I’ll order us some Chinese food, and we can be lazy tonight.” He kisses the top of my forehead before stepping back and heading for the bedroom. He didn’t give me any more explanation. But, do I really want to know about his past? That will only let trouble in. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s you leave the past in the past, and focus on the future. But it seems his past was staying at his momma’s house with a five-year-old kid!
I walk over to the stove, completely deflated, and turn off the pot of water. I figure the best thing to do is shower and wait for takeout. Tommy Anderson would be making a delivery from Chou’s.
I was showering in the guestroom when Jackson burst in, all but breathing fire.
“You wanna tell me why the fuck you’re showering in my guestroom and your shit is unpacked in here, and not my fucking room?”
Well there you have it. I thought. I’m unpacked in the guestroom because his room isn’t our room. His home isn’t our home. Just days ago we were an us. Now we’re a you and me. Or mine and yours.
Jackson is holding a fluffy white towel out towards me. I step out of the shower and quickly wrap it around my body. The man is intense, all the damn time. He doesn’t know how to have gentle disagreements. Even though I considered this particular argument an all-out war, I at least expect a modicum of civility. But he’s always been this way. It’s one of the main reasons I fear losing him. Eventually, he’ll figure out I’m too much work and just get rid of me. I’m se
cure about myself when it comes to my work, even when it comes to knowing my head. But matters of the heart are a different story. I am completely ignorant when it comes to relationships. I’ve never had a serious one before, because in the back of my mind I’m always comparing them to him.
“I don’t think I should sleep in your bed tonight.”
“You don’t think you should, huh?” His tone is condescending.
That only pisses me off more.
“What? You thought after the way you were all warm with me, I’d melt in your arms. Let you take me to bed and what? Fuck my brains out?”
“No darlin’. I was expecting we eat first, and then fuck. Then, fuck some more.” He has that devious look in his eyes as he sweeps his gaze over my body from head to toe.
So not happening, buster.
“Well sorry, but you expected way too much.” I push past him into the room. Pulling out a pair of sweats and a tee-shirt, I sit my clothes on the bed. I even find some granny panties. I’m not going to dress up for him. Not tonight. Not ever again, if we don’t at least talk it out as a couple.
“Annabelle.” He’s frustrated now. His voice has gone quiet, but it still packs the same power it always does when he speaks. Dark. Dangerous. Delicious.
I’m so screwed.
Only if I give in.
“I just got you home. I don’t want to fight.”
“I don’t want to fight either. I want to talk.” I step into my panties and sweats, pull my tee over my head, and pull my brush through my now curly hair. Jackson stands in the doorway, watching.
“Anna, just because you throw on sweats and a wrinkly tee doesn’t mean I don’t want you. I’ll always want you.”
I look at him through the mirror and huff. I take off my contacts and put on my thick, black glasses. Jackson comes up behind me, arms going to my hips. He brings me into his chest and we both stare at our reflection.
“We look good together, darlin’.” He whispers against the sweet spot behind my ear. His lips make their way down my neck to my shoulder where he places an open-mouthed kiss on my skin.
