I scoffed and shook my head as the horrid, disgusting feelings I tried so hard to overcome overruled my genuine love for my best friend. “So you didn’t stand over Will’s body and tell Josh that Will was where he was meant to be?”
Her widened eyes focused on Josh. “I…”
“What was it you said?” I tilted my head at my best friend. “He’s with Peyton. Right? And he could have gone on to get married and have a family, but no love would ever compare to what he felt for her. I hear those words every time I see your face.” They tasted like acid and ate away at what emotional defenses I had intact. I’d only ever spoken them to Dr. Circe.
“Fuck,” Josh hissed, shoving his hands in the pockets of his shorts.
“Morgan, that was…you were…” Paisley shook her head and glanced around our group like they’d give her the answer.
“What? Private? Do you honestly think anything in this group is private?” I accused. “Ember heard you, remember? And she got understandably upset because Josh wasn’t talking to her about what had happened over there, but he’d somehow managed to talk to you, right? So Ember called Sam for a little support, and Sam happened to be in my hotel suite checking on me.”
“Oh, shit,” Sam cursed. “I never meant for you to hear that.”
“I know,” I told her softly. “You were in the living room because I could barely pull myself out of bed, and you put it on speaker because Ember wanted Grayson’s point of view, too. I’ve never blamed you. I wouldn’t have made it through any of this without you.”
Her lips pursed as she struggled to compose herself, but she managed a nod.
“I didn’t mean that he wouldn’t have been able to love you,” Paisley swore.
“But not as much as Peyton,” I countered. “Just because my last name isn’t Donovan doesn’t mean I wasn’t capable of making him happy.”
“I didn’t think that!”
“You didn’t think of me at all,” I countered. “He was called home to your sister, right? Now they finally had a chance to be happy. That’s what you said.” My eyes stung, and my vision wobbled through the sheen of gathering tears.
Her lower lip trembled.
“How the hell can someone who calls herself my best friend stand there and say that his only chance at happiness was in death? You knew I loved him!” I jabbed a finger at her. “Am I that horrible, that unlovable in your eyes that you would rather see him dead with your sister than alive with me? I might not be as sweet, and kind, and perfect as you are, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t worthy of him.” Hot, angry tears fell from my eyes, and I didn’t wipe them away. Let her see them. Let them all see them.
“No. Sweet mercy, Morgan, no.” Paisley shook her head. “Of course you’re worthy, and loveable, and it kills me that you think that—”
“Then why?” The raw cry ripped from my throat. “Why would you say he was meant to be dead instead of mine?”
She took a deep breath and glanced at Josh. “Because it was what Josh needed to hear.”
“And just what the hell did you think I needed to hear?” The tears fell quickly now, their warmth stolen by the ocean breeze as they reached my jawline.
“I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “But I can see now that I didn’t say it to you.”
“You didn’t bother with me.” My voice fell. “You were pregnant, and Jagger had three billion surgeries. I know that, logically. You were exhausted, and scared, and dealing with a whole host of things. I remember because when you’d call, that’s all we’d talk about. And it was my fault, too. I should have told you back then, but I’d gotten so used to protecting your feelings that I didn’t know how to be honest with mine. So I kept quiet and faked my way through the days, and the weddings, and the phone calls. But the nights? I can’t fake those. And because no one saw fit”—I waved my hand at Josh and Jagger—“to take the time to show up and tell the woman who loved Will exactly how he actually died, I get to picture it playing out differently in every nightmare every night. But it’s okay since it’s just me going through it and not any of you. And hey, that’s better than making you guys relive it, right? Who cares that I don’t know as long as it doesn’t inconvenience you? But the thing is that my therapist wants me to have this imaginary conversation with Will that’s supposed to take place where he died, which is ludicrous, but I can’t argue because the therapy is working. But I can’t even do that because I have no idea what happened that night!”
“Shit, Morgan, I didn’t realize—” Josh grimaced.
“Don’t worry yourself. It’s par for the course around here. And I pieced a little together between what you said at the funeral and the bits Ember relayed from the cemetery—which wasn’t much. What was it you said, Josh? Paisley loved him more than all of us, right? That’s why you avoided her.” I leveled my stare on him, and he deflated.
“They had dated, and I knew they were still tight, and I felt so fucking guilty for living when he didn’t,” Josh said in explanation.
“She didn’t love him most!” I screamed the words I’d held back for far too long. “I did!” I turned back to Paisley, who now had Jagger’s arm around her waist. Even now, she was supported. “I loved him most. Not you. Not Peyton. She never chose him. She broke him. Then you had him and still chose Jagger, remember? I’m the one who always chose Will when I wasn’t prioritizing your happiness. I. Chose. Will. You didn’t. The fact that he didn’t bother to choose me back until he was on his way to become a martyr doesn’t change the fact that I loved him most!”
My gaze dropped to Paisley’s wings, the necklace she’d been given the night of the flight school ball.
“He might have died with Peyton’s name on his lips, but it was my necklace he had around his neck. The necklace that Grayson brought back with Will’s body. The one he and Sam helped me put into the casket with him the night before we buried him, because if I had his wings, then he should have mine. And now it’s two years later and you’re all just over it! Over him! You’re healed, and happy, and married, and parents, and pregnant, and even though I love you all, I hate you for it! He was supposed to come home to me, not get buried next to her!” A sob tore from my throat, and I crumpled.
Strong arms wrapped around me, and I was enveloped by the scent of the ocean and Jackson as he held me against his chest.
“It’s okay,” he murmured against my hairline as I sobbed into his shirt, grabbing fistfuls of the material to assure myself that he was real. He was here.
I needed to not be here.
“Morgan,” Paisley pled, but Sam stepped between us. “Sam, please. I just need to talk to her. Let me make this better. I. Need. To. Talk. To. Her!”
“Paisley, you know I love you, but this is not about you or what you need right now,” Sam replied in a tone that was kind but firm.
“Since when am I the third wheel around here? You might be the one she chose to come live with her, but that’s my best friend, Samantha! Move!”
“I know you are not yelling at me for your own fuck-up, Paisley Bateman. None of what’s going down right now is my fault. And I get that your emotions are high, and rightfully so, but you’re just going to have to let those suckers take a backseat to Morgan’s for once.”
I couldn’t see either of their faces, but Paisley’s indrawn breath said it all.
“And if you can’t do that,” Sam’s voice softened, “if you honestly can’t listen to the pain she’s in without trying to fix it, then you might need to pack up that beautiful baby and your handsome husband and take them home until you can. You can’t fix this, and she’s not asking you to. She’s just being honest for the first time in years and letting you know where she’s at. And I know you want to help her. I know you love her, and you’ve never intentionally hurt her. We both know that this is one giant mess made by some pretty all-around shitty circumstances, but that doesn’t change t
he fact that Morgan got lost and left behind.”
My breathing regulated with Jackson’s steady heartbeat as Sam gave me the time I needed to calm down. His arms felt so good around me. Safe. Secure. He held me like I was something he cherished, because he did. God, I didn’t deserve this man who held me carefully as I cried out my grief for another.
“I never wanted this to happen,” Paisley said softly.
My heart ached at the misery in her voice. I never wanted this, either. Never wanted my feelings to harm her. Never wanted to lose Will. Never wanted to tangle my heart up in another flyboy I’d have to bury.
“None of us did.” Sam answered. “But you can’t help her right now, as good as your intentions are. And as much as I value our friendship and the bond we all have, I can’t stand here and let you slap a let me make this better Band-Aid over a festering, infected wound just because it’ll help you sleep tonight.”
My eye caught on the invitation to Will’s ceremony as it dangled from Jackson’s fingers, and I felt that same rage bubble to the surface. Maybe letting the fire out of my soul hadn’t extinguished it but fed it instead.
“I need to regroup.”
Jackson nodded once. “Well, as fun as this is, we’re going to take a little break and feed my daughter’s guinea pig.” Jackson tilted his head and looked down at me. “We might need to feed the turtle, too.” He took my hand, put himself between my closest friends and me, and started to walk us toward the dune.
“Are you coming back?” Paisley asked, her voice breaking. “Do you want us to go?”
I paused, gathered my composure, and then turned around to face them without letting go of Jackson’s hand.
“I need a break, because when I look at that invitation, the only place I want to tell you to go to is hell, Lee. I’ll be damned if I’m going to watch you accept his posthumous award while everyone cheers, because we both know his mama isn’t going to sober up enough to do it.”
Her eyes flared, and then her face fell.
“Right, that’s what I thought.” My stomach turned at the prospect of watching it all go down. “Will made you his primary next of kin, and that gives you access to all the information, and I get it, you just wanted to honor him while trying to navigate my delicate feelings that you knew nothing about. But you do now. So I’m leaving in the hopes that by the morning, this feeling will pass and I can calm myself down enough that I won’t tell you to take that award ceremony and shove it up your perfect ass, because this is the last time I will ever let any of you think that your grief or your love for Will is deeper or stronger than mine. Losing that man drove me to actual insanity, and as far as I can see, you’re all doing just fine.”
They stared at me with varying degrees of shock, with the exception of Sam, who smirked.
“Ember, the coffeemaker is plugged into the dining room since I don’t have any counters. Sam can show you where I put the extra towels, and she knows how to work the alarm and the sliding windows. And Sam, if you wouldn’t mind making my apologies to our Outer Banks friends? Y’all have a good night. I sure do appreciate you coming all the way down here to see me.” My eyes narrowed. “And if any of you so much as touch his truck, so help me God, there will not be enough time and space in the world to calm me down. Night!” I flashed a fake smile they all would have accepted as real before this blowup and walked over the dune with Jackson…who had just witnessed my entire tirade over another man.
“Are you okay?” he asked, handing me the invitation.
“Are you?” I challenged softly. “I never meant for you to hear all that. I can’t imagine how you must feel right now.”
His jaw ticked for a second, but he lifted my hand and kissed the back of it. “I feel proud of you.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I shook my head. “I don’t want you to think you’re in some kind of competition with Will.”
“But I am.” He shrugged as we paused between our houses. “I have been since the moment we met. I’m not the guy to lay down my life—not with Fin at home. I’m the guy who figures out a way for everyone to live. But that out there”—he motioned toward the beach—“that wasn’t about me.”
“Jackson.” My heart sank with guilt.
“It’s okay.” He cradled my face. “And when it comes to you, I might be a few laps behind in this race, but I’ve got a slight advantage on the guy.”
“You’re alive?” Sarcasm rolled heavily off my tongue.
“I wasn’t going there.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “Time, Morgan. I have time and the persistence to use it. Now, what do you want to do with the rest of our night?”
“Take me to bed.”
His forehead crinkled. “I thought you wanted some space from your friends.”
“Right. Take me to your bed.”
Chapter Nineteen
Morgan
Here’s the thing. If I don’t make it back from this, you can’t lock that big, beautiful heart away. When that guy comes along, and trust me, he will, you have to take the chance.
Substantial, scrumptious warmth surrounded me as I opened my eyes.
I blinked rapidly to bring the world into focus and tried to make sense of the heavy, masculine furniture and hunter-green comforter.
I was in Jackson’s bed.
That was his arm draped over my waist, his strong body cradling mine. I waited for the panic to set in or a warning bell that I’d been reckless to crawl into his bed last night, but all I felt was calm, soothing heat.
His bedroom looked out over the ocean, and I watched the waves crash ashore with a steady rhythm that nearly lulled me back to sleep. The sky was gray and thick with heavy clouds as a storm moved in, but they didn’t worry me since Jackson wasn’t going to work today. Guess the weather hadn’t gotten the memo that Hurricane Morgan had already made landfall last night.
I’d ripped my friends apart, and though I probably should have been nicer—gentler about it—every word I’d spoken had been true. Will would have been horrified and ashamed of me for what I’d put Paisley through.
Jackson had been proud of me for finally being honest.
Careful not to wake him, I rolled slowly in his arms and watched him sleep like the borderline obsessed woman I was. He was so beautiful that my entire body heated just looking at him. It didn’t hurt that he slept shirtless, either. The man was cut in ways that had to be illegal in some states.
But even as incredibly good-looking as he was, it was his heart that held me in thrall. He was fiercely protective yet gentle when he touched me. His loyalty and persistence were unmatched by any guy I’d ever been around, and yet he never pushed me for more than I was ready to give. He let me move at my own pace without so much as hinting that it was too slow for him. He’d mastered the art of emotional seduction by patience, and that was hotter than the lines of roped muscles down his stomach or even the inked lines of latitude and longitude that ran along his side.
My heart—my stupid, foolish heart—ached with a sharp, sweet throb.
You cannot fall for this man. Not while you still love Will.
I did, right? I still loved Will. But every day that passed, every therapy assignment I conquered, softened the intensity of that emotion. The more time I spent with Dr. Circe, the more I realized that Will wasn’t a sea of grief anymore. He was a mountain in my life, maybe even the mountain. No matter where I stood, I could still see him to the west—but I’d gained enough distance that he didn’t dominate my existence anymore. He was a landmark I could guide myself by, comforting in his permanence. But somewhere in the last few months, it was Jackson who had become the ocean to my east. Deep, calming, and steady, just like those waves that pounded the shore behind me. And he was a touch reckless, too—bending the rules he found inconvenient and breaking the ones that got in his way. But for every danger he might bring, he was also gentle and tenacious eno
ugh to transform a broken bottle into a priceless piece of sea glass.
I examined the strong lines of Jackson’s face, so different from Will’s. And maybe it was wrong to compare, but I did it anyway. Jackson was bigger, taller, his body sharper than Will’s compact, lithe frame had been, but he was also soft in the areas where Will had been unyielding. Jackson had no problem standing his ground, but he also knew when to compromise, when to concede, and when to take the risk. I would even argue that he did the latter far too often.
Will had seen the world as black and white—right or wrong.
Jackson would argue that there were ten thousand shades between the two.
My chest tightened the longer I studied him, but the butterflies in my belly were nowhere to be found. There was nothing to be nervous about anymore when I was in Jackson’s arms. I couldn’t do or say the wrong thing, because he wanted me just as I was, hot mess and all. He hadn’t questioned my need to sleep next to him, either.
You didn’t watch the video last night. That’s twice.
The realization hit me at the same time that Jackson opened his eyes.
My heart skipped, and that ache increased a hundredfold as he gave me the sleepiest, sexiest smile I’d ever seen while he stretched.
You cannot fall for him. You. Cannot.
Oh God, it’s too late, isn’t it?
What I felt for Will was entirely separate from the emotions that overpowered me when it came to Jackson. How the hell was I capable of both?
“Good morning.” His voice was scratchy with sleep as his gaze raked over me. “You look incredible in my shirt.”
“Are you regretting last night’s gentlemanly concern for my virtue?” I teased, hoping he couldn’t see how unsettled I felt beneath my smile.
“Not even a little bit.” That smile shifted to a smirk.
The Reality of Everything (Flight & Glory) Page 27
