My eyes stung with a new wave of tears. I pressed my lips together because my chin had the wobbles again. “You love me,” I said, trying the words on. They felt too good to be true.
“Hmm. You don’t sound too certain.” Jackson grinned, lifting an eyebrow, taking away the breath I hadn’t caught yet. Lifting himself up, he climbed down my body, saying between kisses, “I guess I’ll just have to show you again.”
Chapter 23
*Jackson*
“It’s nice to look back on your life and see things as lessons, and not regrets.”
Rihanna
Life was good.
We’d spent all day in the cabin yesterday, naked, with the AC on, despite the fact that I’d started believing Rae within the first hour. She knew I loved her. She knew it and believed it and accepted it.
And yet—as I’d repeated yesterday during hour four, five, and six—one could never be too sure.
I grinned at the memory, my blood heating as visions of her carefree smiles and laugher played through my mind. It had been the happiest day of my life—so far—because Rae loved me, I loved her, we were solid, things were fantastic. Life wasn’t good, life was superb. . .
So why had I woken up anxious, and why did I spend all day today looking over my shoulder, a sense of dread heavy in my chest, waiting for the other shoe to drop?
“Jackson?”
I shook myself, realizing I’d been staring into the past, and gave Florence my attention. “Sorry. Did you say something?”
She didn’t respond right away, her dark brown eyes looking me over for a tick, like she was looking for something, or expected to discover something new about my features.
Eventually, she stepped closer, glanced over her shoulders—left, then right—and leaned close. “Have you been online today?”
Careful not to exhibit any change in expression, I shook my head. “No. Why?”
She pressed her lips together, her eyes growing real big. “You might want to check Twitter.”
“I don’t have a Twitter acc—”
“Fine. I’ll show you.” She pulled her phone from behind her back and shoved the screen under my nose, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Next time, ask me to go get your condoms. I don’t mind. It’ll confuse the heck out of Charles, that’s for sure, and give both Nancy and me a laugh.”
I couldn’t focus on her words and what I was seeing. A picture of me at the convenience store?
“Swipe your finger to the left, there’s more,” she said. Flo must’ve been impatient because she reached over and did it herself.
The second photo showed a close-up of my hands, what I’d purchased. Great. Now the whole world knows what size I wear. The third and fourth photos showed me leaving the store, and the fifth through tenth were pictures of me and Rae leaving the boat together yesterday, hand in hand, smiling like lovesick fools.
Which I supposed we were.
“You two look so cute together.” Flo had twisted her neck to look at the pictures with me. “Nancy told me it was going to happen, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
I couldn’t think, my heart started hammering. I mean, this wasn’t good, right? Or . . . was this bad? Will this hurt Rae?
“And it’s so nice that Charlotte and Rae have become such good friends.” Flo was still talking. “Do you think she’d mind if I called her Rae? You ask and let me know. Anyway, when I called Charlotte this morning to check in on her, she sounded thrilled. Said she set the two of you up.” Flo gave my shoulder a little nudge, and I looked at her. She was smiling. Gleefully.
I tried to smile but wasn’t so sure of my success.
It didn’t seem to matter to Florence, though. Still grinning, and looking at me like I was treasure, she took the phone from my hand and straightened. “I bet Charlotte saw the chemistry between the two of you right away, it’s hard to miss, unless you’re blind.” She chuckled, then sighed. “I just wish we could find someone for Charlotte too. She’s such a lovely girl, and so hard-working. It’s a shame what that Kevin did.”
“Flo.”
“Hmm? Yes?”
My mind on Rae and whether or not this latest development would negatively impact her, I stood from my desk. “Do you mind if I take a minute to, uh, make a call?”
“Oh! Yeah, well. You can’t.” She gave me a plaintive look. “Sorry. I meant to tell you first, your father wants to talk to you. Now.”
I felt my façade slip at this news, my eyes cutting to the door of his office. “Oh. Okay.”
Flo patted me on the back. “Good luck,” she said, then walked off, leaving me to my fate like she hadn’t just dropped a bunch of bombs all over my life. Or shoes.
Gathering a deep breath, I walked between the aisles, taking the shortest route possible to the sheriff’s office while my mind stumbled over what this might be about. It’s about the pictures, and you know it.
Yeah, I guess I did know it. Did he think I was behaving irresponsibly? The thought made me frown, and honestly it made me mad. By the time I’d made it to his door, knocked, and he’d called for me to enter, I’d talked myself into quite a tizzy, reasoning that, although I respected the hell out of my father, his life was not my life, and I was going to love whomever I damned well—
“Momma.” I stopped short because my mother stood in front of my father’s desk, her hands clasped in front of her, a small smile on her face.
“Jackson,” she said. “Thanks for coming. Close the door, please.”
My father, who stood at his desk behind her, leaned to one side and gave me the look.
Now, all y’all will know this look. This is the look one parent gives their child when they’re warning him or her about what’s about to happen at the hands of the other parent. Typically, parent A—in this case, my dad—disagrees with parent B—in this case, my mom—but feels obligated to play a supporting role in the looming conversation.
“Take a seat,” my mother said, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of my father’s desk and moving to one side so I could.
On autopilot, I closed the door, splitting my attention between the two of them as I walked over. I knew better than to sit before a lady did, so I stood in front of the chair and let my mother reach up and set a kiss on my cheek. Then she sat, which was our prompt to do so as well.
“Jackson, honey, how are you?” she asked, her smile friendly and patient, her eyes a normal size. This was a good sign. I only needed to worry if her eyes grew big or small. Didn’t matter which, either spelled disaster.
“Just fine,” I said, my gaze flicking to my dad. He sat with this his hands folded on top of his desk. He wore a rather bland smile, not too big, not too small, not too interested, and his stare pointed forward at nothing. Okay, well, that’s a bad sign.
“And your boat? How’s your boat?”
“The boat is . . . is . . .” Oh.
She’d seen the pictures. My mouth went completely dry. My mother had seen the pictures of me buying condoms from Charles at the convenience store and then the photos of Rae and I leaving the boat.