by JB Salsbury
“Let’s pretend I am.”
His scrutinizing stare doesn’t let up. “Mr. NYU didn’t get his degree in common sense.”
“Carey, just tell me.”
“She can hide it from my parents, but I know my sister and I watched her fall apart. She came home to visit and I caught her crying in her car, her room, and I’m pretty sure she cried during every shower she took, Jackson. If you care about her at all, you’ll stay away from her.”
“She always said she was fine—”
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you could take your seats. Dinner service will begin.”
Carey’s grin is about as friendly as a great white shark’s, all teeth and a lot of threat.
I walk around, searching out my parents and find them—oh, what do you know—at the same table as Jonah’s family. My sister, Axelle, and her husband, Killian, are next to my mom and dad. Sadie’s smiling at her dad while he tells everyone at the table a story, and when her eyes land on me, she frowns. I hesitate, wondering if I should fake an illness and excuse myself for the night.
“Jackson, you can sit right here next to Sadie,” Sadie’s mom says. She doesn’t seem to notice Carey’s glare aimed at me from across the ten-top table.
I lower myself into the seat and feel Sadie tense. Clearly I have something I need to apologize for. I only wish I knew exactly what that was.
Three hours into the event, after a video highlighting Jonah’s career, and after his acceptance speech brings a room of the toughest fighters in the world to tears, the festivities are winding down.
Clutched to his wife, Jonah moves from table to table, greeting those who came to honor him. I’m feeling the itch to get out of here, but I won’t pass up an opportunity to be close to Sadie.
I drum my fingers on the table. “Your dad’s journey to the octagon was fascinating. I didn’t know he struggled with a learning disability.” I’m only trying to make conversation with Sadie, who has pointedly ignored me all night.
“I hate to be a party pooper, but I’m tired,” she announces to the table while standing and grabbing one of those hand purses women carry. She looks at Carey. “Tell Mom and Dad I took a cab home.”
“I’ll take you,” I say a little too eagerly.
“No, it’s fine,” she says without really looking at me. “You stay.”
“Yeah, Daniels,” Carey says with a frown. “Sit. Stay.”
This fucking kid.
“I was leaving anyway. I have a-an early conference call in the morning.” I’m already up and fishing keys from my pocket.
“That’s good,” my dad grumbles. “Make sure she gets home safe. I don’t trust people for shit anymore. World’s going to hell in a used condom.”
“Gross,” my sister says, cringing. “Nice visual, Dad.”
“He’s right.” Killian smiles at me. “Such a gentleman, Jack. Gentleman Jack. Get it?”
I roll my eyes. “Funny, bro.”
That’s exactly why I started going by Jackson in college. I’ve heard enough Jack Daniels jokes to last me a hundred lifetimes.
“You don’t have to do this,” Sadie says through a clenched-tooth smile.
“I know. Come on.” I ruffle Carey’s hair as I pass him. “Good night, Care Bear.”
“I hate you,” he mumbles.
“No, you don’t.”
“Drive safely,” my mom says.
“Don’t fuck around. You’ve got precious cargo,” my dad orders.
I give my old man a thumbs-up and take the opportunity to touch Sadie by guiding her through the tables and clusters of people. The moment my palm touches her bare lower back, she stiffens as if she’s got a metal rod running from the back of her head to her sweet ass.
“When our families get together, it feels like we have twenty-five parents,” I say close to her ear.
She shivers. “Yeah.”
Not in the mood for talking? I smirk. We’ll see about that.
I hand over my valet ticket and leave Sadie to her silent brooding. I have a feeling she’ll be more likely to open up once we get in the car.
Her eyes do a double-take as the valet returns with the vehicle. “Oh my God, is that…?”
I grin inwardly.
Bingo.
Chapter Thirteen
Sadie
The valet guy pulls Jack’s white 4-Runner to a stop in front of us, and Jack jumps in front of me to open the door.
“I didn’t know you still had this,” I say as I carefully put my high-heeled foot on the running board and hoist myself inside.
He gently gathers the flowing length of my skirt to make sure it’s all safely in the cab before he closes the door, and my heart squeezes with nostalgia. He was always so cautious with me.
While he pays the valet, I run my hands along the worn leather seats and breathe in the familiar scent of high school Jack’s cologne—Fierce by Abercrombie. Every time I pass the store in the mall, I’m reminded of Jack. I noticed at our last non-date breakfast that he’s switched it up to something more manly, spicy, something that I’m sure costs a small fortune.
He slips off his tuxedo coat and tie and tosses them in the back before climbing behind the wheel. “My parents wanted to sell it, but I wasn’t ready to part with it.” He punches a couple buttons on the stereo and “Every Breath” by The Police comes on.
“Wow. How many times did we listen to this song in this car?”
He’s merging into traffic, checking mirrors and flipping his turn signal, but he couldn’t look more relaxed—knees wide, elbow propped in the open window, a little slouched. Such a familiar view, I almost forget I’m not still seventeen and lovesick. “If memory serves, we did a lot to this song, both in this car and outside of it.”
A furious blush explodes at my chest, crawls up my neck, and sizzles my cheeks. “That too.”
He turns the music up, signaling the time for talk is over, and allows me to quietly enjoy this small dip into the good ol’ days. The window is down and the warm breeze tosses my hair around my face, pulling strands free of my messy updo while the lyrics remind me of another lifetime.
Visions of his gentle hands on my body, his whispered affirmations that eased my nerves, and his warm lips as he kissed every inch of my exposed skin. Jack had a way of touching me that only ever felt like the purest kind of love. And even when he’d get wound up, pushed beyond what he could control, he would shake with the effort it took to hold back until I gave him permission to unleash his passion for me.
My nerves zap to life beneath my skin. How many times did we end up naked, sweat-soaked, and clutching one another in the backseat of his truck? More than I can count.
I notice belatedly that we didn’t take the exit to my parents’ house. “Where are we going?”
“You looked so at peace over there”—he looks back and forth between the road and me—“I figured I’d go for a little drive. If that’s okay? We don’t have to—”
“No, actually.” And I’m surprised to hear myself say it. “That sounds nice.”
“Africa” by Toto comes on next, and again my body remembers the many places we went together, music masking the sounds we’d make. U2, Queen—the playlist is the soundtrack to our entire relationship. I wonder if Jack planned this on purpose. As if bringing me back to a time when we were good might soften me up to his advances. Judging by the released tension in my shoulders, the heat gathering in my lower belly, and the warmth in my cheeks, his attempt is working. I’m enjoying the trip down memory lane.
The truck slows to a stop, and in the distance, I can barely make out a set of swings. I want to tell him his attempts are pathetic, but knowing Jack, he’d see right through my lie.
“Do you remember this place?”
I pinch the fabric of my dress, needing to give my hands a job in order to keep them from pulling Jack’s lips to mine. “How could I forget? We came here on our first date. You told me you were in love with me.”
“I was so nervous
.” He slides his gaze from me to the darkened park. “I wasn’t sure you felt the same way I did.”
But I had felt the same way. He confessed his feelings and I confessed mine right back. We kissed like two starving people who had been forced to hold back for way too long.
“Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if you hadn’t moved to New York?”
He nods. “I don’t need to wonder, I know. I would’ve married you the second I was out of high school. I would’ve worked for the UFL or at Braeden’s gym. We’d be living in some…” He blows out a breath. “Run-down, piece-of-shit apartment because it’s all I could afford. You’d be pregnant with our fourth kid we couldn’t afford and we’d probably be miserable.” He grins at me, but when he sees my expression, he frowns.
“How do you know we’d be miserable?”
“Because we’d be poor. And you deserve better.”
“Would you have loved me?”
“Of course.”
Now it’s my turn to stare blankly at the playground. “That would’ve been enough for me.”
“Women say that, but—”
“Do they? What women have said that to you?”
He must hear the accusation in my tone, because he looks at me and scowls. And dammit, that is one attractive scowl. “A few. The irony is all they really cared about was money and the lifestyle I could give them. What? Stop looking at me like that. You’re saying you haven’t been with any other guys since we stopped seeing each other?”
“That’s what we’re calling it? First it was we grew apart and now it’s we stopped seeing each other?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Yes, I have been with someone else since you.”
He makes a face like he ate something rotten. If he only knew the truth, he’d know I make the same face when I think back on my attempt at moving on from Jack.
He drops his head back on the headrest then turns and looks at me. “I owe you an apology.”
“For?”
“This wasn’t the plan I had for us. We were forever, ya know.”
I shrug. “Distance is hard on a relationship. Things change. People change. It’s life.”
He stares into the darkened park. “Four years. Then I was supposed to come back and we’d make a life together.”
No shit. Nice to see he remembers. I’m not sure I’m relieved by that or if it pisses me off more. Because the truth is, Jack didn’t only forget the promises he made when he left. He also forgot me.
He scratches his jaw. “I fucked us up.” His gaze fixes on mine. “Didn’t I?”
“I don’t know. I can’t let you take all the responsibility. Maybe we both did.”
He frowns, and as silent seconds stretch between us, I’m forced to look away from those pretty green eyes that always managed to captivate me. “I was so nervous the first time I kissed you.”
I smile. “I remember.”
“Sadie?”
At the pleading sound of his voice, I turn toward him.
“I miss us. I miss you. I really want to kiss you.”
My stomach seizes, and I swallow the lump swelling in my throat. If I say no, he’ll notice that something’s wrong with me. Do I even want to say no? Jack’s full, almost pouty lips were always so soft and gentle. I miss what we had too. I miss the Jack who promised me a future with such confidence that I couldn’t help but believe him. I miss the days when something as simple as a kiss didn’t make me want to crawl out of my skin.
His eyes drop to my lips. “Can I kiss you?”
Not trusting my voice, I nod.
The corner of his mouth tips up, and he adjusts his position to angle his body toward me. He leans over the center console, and even with my heart hammering, I meet him halfway. Our lips hover mere inches apart, and the scent of Jack is so familiar, so calming, that I’m able to close the distance and press my lips to his.
I’m seventeen again.
His eyelids flutter before they close, dark lashes fanning over smooth skin. He moans softly and tilts his head. His fingers slip into my messy hair, and his tongue licks at my upper lip, a polite request for entrance. I part my lips cautiously and he slowly, patiently coaxes my tongue to slide against his.
This isn’t a forceful invasion. A selfish pillaging.
Jack’s kiss is a humble request ripe with honor and respect.
Oh, how I missed these.
His hand stays in my hair as he allows me to set the pace, the depth, and advancement. His eyes remain closed. I know because mine remain open, even if only as small slits.
Our tongues work together as if they were trained by the other, which they were, and memories of intimacy with Jack come roaring through my body. His hands, strong body, arms bracing his weight above me because he was always so concerned with crushing me. I secretly begged that he would. I wanted to feel his suffocating weight on top of me.
I deepen the kiss as a moan of pleasure glides up my throat. His taste, the feel of his lips, the rough scrape of his five o’clock shadow is a heady combination. My eyes slide closed.
Phantom fingers grip my upper arms. My pulse pounds.
Pressure of a forceful thigh slides between my legs. I squeeze my knees together to prove it’s not real. Not real.
The hand in my hair makes a fist, tighter, tighter, so tight I yelp.
Jack breaks the kiss, his eyebrows dipped so low they practically touch his lashes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I pat his wrist, the one with the hand in my hair, and find it only loosely holding me. None of that was real. “I’m fine.”
He picks up my silent request for freedom and slips his hand free. “Your heart is racing.”
“Nah…”
He nods toward my neck. “I can see it.”
I cover my throat with my hand and feel it shake against my skin. He sees it too and scowls. I look out the window to hide his intrusion into my head.
“Maybe this time it’s me who’s nervous.” I laugh. The sound is shaky, believable.
“I guess I should get you home.” I hear a satisfied smile in his voice. He bought it. “Unless you’re in the mood for ice cream.”
My pulse slows and I plaster on my best fake smile. “You know I’d never turn down ice cream.”
Chapter Fourteen
Jack
I lied to Sadie.
Last night when I took her to our first date spot at the park, I lied about having been with other women. I tried, I really did. But I wasn’t lying about what the women I’d met in New York were after—a successful man with a fat bankroll.
In school, I had been devoted to Sadie and my studies. After that, I was on a raceway to the top that I couldn’t get off of if I tried. I’d meet attractive ladies in social settings and catch them staring at my watch or trying to peek into my wallet when I paid a bill. Some came right out and asked where I lived and what kind of car I drove. The money symbols flashed in their eyes, and I knew if I invited one into my life—even only to satisfy my most basic needs—they’d never leave.
After kissing Sadie last night, I realize that she’s the main reason I never moved on. My heart couldn’t allow someone else in. The space had been taken.
Is still taken.
And what the fuck am I supposed to do about that?
Doubled over a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, fruit, and whole wheat toast at my parents’ kitchen table, I lean back when my mom slides two more strips of pork onto my plate. “Thanks, Mom.”
“You’re welcome.” She winks at me, her face glowing with pride. The woman loves nothing more than to fill my bottomless stomach. “You got home late last night.”
Thankfully I have a mouthful of food, so all I can do is nod.
She takes the seat next to me. “How’s Sadie?”
I swallow, the mention of her name making my lips curve up. “Great.”
“That’s it? Great?”
I set down my fork and grab my coffee mug. “What
do you want to know?”
She props her elbow on the table, cups her chin, and leans in. “Are you guys back together?”
“No.”
She pouts. “Oh.”
“Not that I don’t want to. I mean…” I picture her in my truck, her lips so close to mine. Visions of us together flood my head and make me dizzy. Her hypnotic blue-green eyes shone in the dim light of my dashboard as she gave me permission to kiss those perfect fucking lips. I refuse to get a hard-on in my parents’ kitchen, so I push away those thoughts. “Did you see her last night?”
“I did.” Her voice is bubbly, and her grin brings out all her laugh lines. “She keeps getting prettier.”
“Right?” I pop a piece of bacon in my mouth. “I’ve got a few things to figure out—the first being how I’m going to convince her to move to New York. Once I do that, then I’ll lay out my proposal and hope it’s too good for her to refuse.”
My mom wrinkles her nose. “Are you trying to win her heart or get her business? Because it sounds like you’re planning an acquisition rather than confessing your love. And why does she have to move to be with you?”
I chuckle. “I appreciate what you’re saying, but you haven’t seen where she lives. I’m not trying to be a dick here. I’m being realistic. It’s logical that we’d live where it makes the most sense financially.”
“Hmmm, yeah,” she says, her eyes getting all dreamy. “Every girl’s dream come true. Logical love that makes sense financially.”
“Exactly—ow! Why’d you hit me?”
“Because you’re being an idiot. Sadie isn’t a damsel who needs to be saved and dragged off to your castle to be protected forever. She’s her own person, independent, and should have equal say in whatever happens or doesn’t happen between you two.”
“Listen to your mother,” my dad says as he breezes into the kitchen, sweat-soaked from a jog. “She’s always right.”
“See?” my mom says proudly. “Always right.”
My dad shakes up his protein and props his ass against the cupboards. “What are we talking about?”
