Jackson eyed her. “You seem worried about this. Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Let’s find out,” she said, far too brightly.
He sipped his Merlot and then set the glass to the side. “What do you want to know? Ask me something.”
“Oh,” she said, scanning her mind for ideas. “What kind of things did you do as a family?”
“We didn’t,” he said curtly.
“What does that mean?” she said.
“I had no family to do things with. Mom left when I was about seven or so. I never saw her after that. She was a heroin junkie. She probably OD’d in some alley. Dad was a drunk. He was in and out of our lives until I was about twelve. Then, he left for good on the Fourth of July. Jake gets twitchy around the Fourth. He was heartbroken to lose Dad. That’s partly why I wanted to go camping with him this summer.”
Her hand flew to cover her mouth. Once she was able to pry her hand away from her face, she said, “Oh, Jackson. That sounds awful.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t pleasant, but we survived.” His eyes narrowed. “What’s the next question?”
“Who took care of you then? You must have had adult supervision.”
He shook his head. “We took turns playing adult until I assumed the role permanently.” His brow furrowed. “That was about…let’s see…Jake was nineteen when he found the Patron Saint of Heroin to save him. So, I became a perma-adult at age seventeen, I suppose. He didn’t use a lot at first. And I didn’t understand what was going on. He’d come home, his eyes all pinprick bright, and he’d slump on the sofa for hours. When I’d rouse him, he’d say he was tired and to leave him alone. I didn’t have anyone I could ask about it. We stayed to ourselves a lot.”
“Wait a minute, what? How could you play adults? Surely someone must have noticed two kids growing up with no parental figures around.” Blaire’s mind galloped around the facts he’d laid at her feet, trying to assemble them into something meaningful. With a shaky hand, she took another swallow of wine.
He reached back and scratched his head, flexing his muscular arm. “Nah. Apparently, Mom and Dad had cut ties with their own families long before they conceived us. We knew of no one we could ask.” He blew out a breath. “As for someone noticing…” A short, sharp laugh left his lips. “Have you ever been to that trailer park at the end of Port Coyote? It’s a run-down joke. A lot of derelicts live there, including my brother. I’m sure one of our neighbors introduced Jake to heroin.”
Blaire sucked in a breath. She reached up and massaged her throbbing temples. The story he told landed like a bomb in her belly. No way could she ever have conceived of such a tale.
“Right. So, how did you…how did you survive? Pay bills and buy groceries and such?”
His brow creased together. “Are you shitting me? You think I’m making this story up? To what…amuse you? Wow you with my imagination?”
Her face grew hot. With a trembling hand, she placed her wine on the table. She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them. “I…no, I…well, you have to believe it’s a pretty out-there story. And you’re so good.”
“I’m really sick of hearing how good I am,” he said, thrusting his arms over his head. “I can deal with it when it comes from my brother…but not from you, babe. I grew up in unfortunate circumstances. I knew I wanted to fight fire from day one. I’m a fighter. That’s what I do. I fought to overcome my upbringing and move on. Jake didn’t.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Blaire said, unfolding her legs. “It’s just that I’m…” She searched for the right word. “I’m stunned that you grew up in such harsh circumstances.” She tried to paint an easy expression on her face. “So, how did you survive?”
Jackson squeezed the back of his neck and then took a gulp of wine. “Babe. Is this really necessary? I mean, I’ll answer your questions, but it doesn’t paint me in a good light.”
His face looked pinched.
“You’re such a good person, Jackson,” she said, then quickly retracted. “I’m sorry, you just got through saying how much you hate that—but it’s true. You are good. You do so much for the community, for me…I don’t see how anything you tell me could make me love you less.”
Jackson inhaled deeply, and then let out a long breath. He directed his gaze out the window. “Okay. So, how did Jake and I survive after Dad left? We got really clever. No way were we going to end up in the clutches of CPS or foster care. No fucking way. So…” His gaze shifted toward the ceiling as if searching for answers. “We dumpster-dived a lot. Restaurants and stores throw tons of produce and such away. And Jake stole food sometimes—mostly from farmer’s markets. He’d pinch a bag of veggies here, a loaf of bread…occasionally a cookie or two. I could never convince myself to try stealing, but I sure ate it when it came. We fished, too. We found an old fishing pole in a pile of junk and went down to the dock and caught rockfish. Those times were pretty fun. We’d compete to see who could catch the biggest fish. I usually won. But, man, Jake would gloat when he won.”
He chuckled, his soft expression reflecting a faraway memory.
Blaire tapped her hand against her mouth.
Jackson blinked and folded his arms across his chest before proceeding. “Some of our neighbors knew Dad came and went. They didn’t know he finally left for good and we made up a lot of cover stories. Sometimes they left us casseroles and such. As for bills, we both worked odd jobs—mowing lawns, doing chores for the neighbors, and the like. We got the electricity turned off many times for lack of payment.”
Blaire shook her head slowly. I can’t believe this is how he grew up.
He let out a guffaw and sat forward, leaning his forearms on his legs. “Jake and I—we’re both pretty bright where it counts…namely survival. We finally figured out how to siphon electricity from one of the neighbors, and the Internet from another. We had a beat-up piece of shit television, but we got a lot of channels from our efforts. Can’t siphon water, though, so we had to keep up with that bill.”
Blaire’s mood flopped about like a fish on the dock. I’m such a spoiled brat. Here I am, boohooing about a rough patch I had after I left home when Jackson lived a horrible life. I had a family who loved me, meals on the table, holidays with relatives—and he had nothing.
She blinked back tears.
“Oh, I really don’t like that look on your face, babe,” Jackson said, shifting in his seat. “It looks like a mixture of sympathy and sorrow. I don’t need that. That’s not what I was going for here.”
“I’m sorry. I just feel so bad you had to endure that. It’s not a happy story.”
Abruptly, Jackson pushed to his feet. “I need something stronger than wine. You?”
“What do you have in mind?” Blaire asked.
“We still have that whiskey we bought for the summer party?”
“Yes. But I don’t want any, thanks. I can get some for you, though.” She started to get to her feet, but he stopped her, putting out his palm to face her.
“I need some space for a minute,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
She slumped in her seat, feeling chastised.
After Jackson exited the front room, she chewed on her nails. She fought back the urge to let out a scream. And she understood all too well his connection with Jake and why it was so hard for him to cut ties and set boundaries. Those two had raised one another—not figuratively, but literally.
How on earth did he turn out so well? And how will we ever get rid of Jake and his mooching off the kindness of his brother’s heart?
The tinkling of ice in a tumbler split the silence, followed by a trickle of liquid.
She waited, anxiously, unsure what to do or say when he returned. But one thing rang clear in her heart. She loved Jackson even more for what he had shared, not less. Maybe Lola and her mom were full of shit. All she wanted to do was comfort Jackson in the best way she knew how—with her body. He might not want her now that she’d forced him to reveal th
ings he’d rather not share, though.
Jackson’s footfalls were sure and steady as he approached the front room. He leaned against the doorway, crystal glass in his hand, and sipped on his whiskey. “Anything else you want to know?”
“Why aren’t you fucked-off at your parents? I’d be furious and want to confront them, or, or…I don’t know…something!” Her teeth ground together.
“Because I don’t know where they are, I don’t want to know, and I’ve moved on. I want to live in the moment and create a good life…with you.” His expression was unreadable. “Anything else?” he said, in a voice devoid of emotion.
“No, I…” I want to scream, I want to find his parents and yell at them, I want to do something, anything, to protect him. What I don’t want to do is tell him about Karlos. How can I bring more shit into his life?
Feeling like her world had split apart with this new information, she drained her wine glass. Then, she lowered her head and studied him.
Outwardly, he seemed his usual calm, unruffled self. He stood in the doorway sipping his whiskey while a maelstrom of emotion blew inside of her, threatening to tear her apart.
“Okay, a couple more questions,” she said, shattering the silence.
He pursed his lips and blew out a lungful of breath.
“What about medical needs? Surely you two scraped yourselves up now and then or got sick.”
“We did. The library wasn’t too far from the trailer park, so when one or the other got sick or injured, the uninjured one would head to the library and research it. Neither of us could afford a mobile phone when we were kids, but the good old library is free. I guess you could say I got a head start on my paramedic training.” A soft expression transformed on his face. “Sometimes it got gnarly, though. We were each convinced we were going to die from the flu or scrapes and such. But, neither of us passed away.” He flashed his brilliant smile at her, warming her insides.
“And clothes? It couldn’t have been cheap to clothe two growing young men,” she said.
“Thrift store. And, by God, I went to school clean, every day, even if it meant scrubbing myself down using toilet paper. I refused to show up to school looking like the poor loser kid I’m certain people would have thought if they knew my story.”
A sinking feeling began to drag Blaire down into its abyss. No way could she reveal Karlos and the bullshit she endured for a short time when Jackson’s entire childhood had been shitty. Like Jackson, she needed to put it behind her, move on, and stop being so paranoid.
“Look,” Jackson said. “Here’s the important part. I never missed school, got good grades, did well in football and baseball. Neither of us could afford to attract attention. I never brought anyone home…ever. When I finally saved enough money to move out, I swore I’d never look back. I moved to Singer Springs, attended the academy, and when an opening came up with the department, I fought for it. Firefighter jobs are highly competitive. There are usually tons of qualified candidates. Someone was looking down on me when I got hired…” he said, and then hesitated, his gaze lingering on her, “and when I met you.”
Blaire sat still, blinking at him. I can’t tell him about Karlos…I just can’t.
Jackson drained his drink and stepped to the side table to place the glass down. He placed his hands on his hips. “Anything else, or am I dismissed?”
“Was it that bad?” she asked, her brows pinching together.
“That depends,” he said, striding across the room to stand before her.
“On what?” Her sex flooded with heat.
“On if you still want to be with me. I never let anyone get close before you. I worried that girls would consider me trailer trash. And I never revealed a tenth of what I told you just now.” He licked his lips and swallowed, but his open regard of her never wavered.
Her insides melted, and she pushed away all thoughts of telling him about Karlos.
“I want you more than ever,” she stated, simply. “Whoever considered you trash of any kind needs their ass kicked.”
He rolled his lips between his teeth and nodded. Then, he said, “And about that sex ban or sex cool down or whatever the fuck you requested? Must I take care of my needs by myself? Because standing as close to you as I am right now is giving me all sorts of naughty ideas.”
His eyelids lowered as he studied her. Then, he leaned over and placed his hands on either side of her along the back of the couch, trapping her legs between his.
Completely surrounded by his maleness, his intoxicating scent, his large, powerful body, she dropped her gaze to his groin. Sure enough, the bulge of his desire stirred beneath his jeans. Leaning forward, she hooked her fingers in his belt loops and tugged.
His body swayed slightly toward her.
She lifted his shirt and slowly rubbed her nose against his hard, hot abs. Her lips parted, and she breathed puffs of air against his skin, stirring electric sensations inside her groin. Everything about this man filled her with overwhelming need. And, if she thought the connection between them was volatile yesterday, today it burned like a rocket powering toward destinations unknown.
His hands pressed against her scalp. Using his fingers, he began making slow circles in her hair.
Like a cat, she pushed her head into his sensuous touch. Slowly, she unzipped his pants and peeled apart the fabric.
His large erection strained against his briefs.
She sucked in a breath. “You are so beautiful, Jackson.”
“I can say the same about you, sweetheart. If I have to spill my guts about my past to get to the good stuff, I’ll do it again. Nothing will stop me from loving you,” he said.
Flames of desire licked her core. She ran her teeth gently along his length, trapped beneath the flimsy fabric of his underwear.
He hissed, rocking into her.
She inhaled his musky scent. For a moment, she forgot about her own smells from her sweaty run. But then she caught a whiff of herself.
“I should shower,” she whispered. “You caught me off-guard with the Jake topic.”
“And I’m sorry for that,” he said, still massaging her scalp. “That was poor timing on my part. Let me make it up to you.” He lowered his head to her neck. His tongue darted out to lick a sensitive spot she didn’t even know existed.
Her head fell back, and she moaned, distracted from her need to take his hard length into her mouth.
“Jackson,” she breathed.
He moved his head to the left, fitting his mouth to hers.
The intensity of his kiss nearly had her slithering to the floor. She got lost in his passion. Nothing else existed when they collided.
His tongue performed a slow, sensual dance with hers, intoxicating her.
Jackson, it seemed, was on fire, consuming her soul.
He withdrew from her lips and met her gaze. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
Her breath caught in her throat.
“If it’s a tenth of what I feel for you, I’m a lucky woman.”
“Oh, it’s not a tenth,” he said, his voice a seductive purr. “I’ll match yours and double mine easily.” His breath whispered along her neck as he moved to her collarbone. “I’m so in love with you, I ache. It’s like a slow, torturous soul-bleed—one that I don’t care to stop.” Using his fingers, he pushed up her soft cotton shirt. His mouth covered one of her nipples through her bra and she gasped. Pleasure coursed through her veins. She reached out to grip his shoulders, massaging and caressing.
He moved to the other breast, gently biting her nipple through the silky fabric.
She arched into him, wanting to be devoured.
“Jackson,” she breathed. The need to lose herself and become one, giant writhing body of need and desire obliterated all other thoughts.
His fingers moved along her torso like warm feathers. Tingles cascaded along her skin. His hands slipped beneath her waistband.
She placed her feet on the footstool and lifted her hips.
He slid her leggings and panties to her ankles. His eyes darkened as he regarded her core. “You have the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen.”
She swallowed. “I probably stink. I just ran three miles.”
He crouched before her and inhaled deeply. “You smell like heaven to me, Blaire. Pure musky heaven. Now, hush.”
He spread his warm hands along her thighs and urged her legs open.
When he lowered his face between her legs, she knew she was done for. As he thrust his tongue inside her, all thick, hard and slippery, thoughts of big reveals and Jackson’s harsh upbringing flew from her mind as she submitted to the torturous pleasure that only Jackson O’Halloran could give her. Her secret sharing would have to wait. Or maybe, if she was lucky, she wouldn’t have to tell him a thing and Karlos could be shoved into a trunk in her mind.
A shadowy blip at the front window caught her attention. She tensed, turning her head toward the intrusion. Her heartbeat ratcheted up to a pounding beat in her chest. There’s nothing there. You’re making things up.
“What is it?” he said, lifting his head from between her legs.
“Nothing, it’s nothing,” she said, plastering on her most convincing smile. She reached down and snaked her fingers in his thick hair. “Keep going.” Closing her eyes, she let her head fall against the sofa. She tried to lose herself in the feeling of Jackson’s tongue, his fingers, his love for her. But a nagging little thought had her in its claws. If I’m being hunted, Jackson’s in the line of fire.
Chapter 9
A week after “Share-Gate,” the term he’d given to Blaire’s need for details, Jackson pulled his truck up to the local high school back parking lot, near the track. Today he had to successfully complete his Washington Fire Service pack test so he could still be on the Wildland Fireteam. The Department of Natural Resources insisted on the yearly test to assess each individual’s muscular strength and aerobic capacity.
Griffin, dressed in a short-sleeved t-shirt and shorts same as Jackson, stood with his foot propped on his bumper a couple of vehicles over lacing up his shoes. The morning sun drew golden glints over his ginger-colored hair.
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