In the Dog House

by Traci Hall

  Jackson met her gaze, a smile dancing along that sexy mouth, his eyes promising a million pleasures—later.

  Later. Emma grinned and hugged Bandit close. She didn’t know what the future might bring, and even if it wasn’t a happy outlook, she couldn’t turn her back on what she felt right now. One day at a time.

  Matthew scooted next to Jackson, searching the sky for a brilliant flash, but there was nothing. Then suddenly a sparkling array of color crossed the night sky, followed by booms as more rockets were launched, one after the other.

  “Beautiful,” she said, staring upward into the night.

  Bandit left her to join Jackson and Matthew. She noticed Bandit put his head in Jackson’s lap with a whine. Jackson gave an imperceptible wince at the explosions of light, noise, and color.

  Emma hadn’t considered what the fireworks might bring on for a man used to war. She watched with concern, but Jackson dug his hand into Bandit’s ruff and petted the pup, his shoulders tight, as he handled the display. Her heart flipped with emotion as she saw him study Matty’s excited face as each new brilliant shower of sparkling light decorated the sky—as if that made the explosions bearable.

  When the last firework faded, Emma got to her feet, her eyes bright with tears. “Spectacular.” She held out her hand to Jackson to pull him up, maintaining eye contact. “Every year it gets better.” Not just the fireworks, but the anxiety. I’m so proud of you.

  Jackson’s tense shoulders eased the slightest bit. “Ready to go?”

  Emma folded the blanket and they walked back to the truck.

  Bandit and Matthew climbed into the rear seat while she sat in the front next to Jackson. Jackson reached across the console for her hand, giving her a single squeeze before starting the truck.

  Was he sorry that he’d shared his feelings? She was sorry only that he hadn’t shared them before now.

  “Is Aunt Pepita going to be sad?” Matthew asked, his head over the seat between them. “Because of dumb Ernie?”

  Maybe. “I bet she’s read an entire love story and eaten at least two bowls of ice cream. She’ll feel better tonight but have a tummy ache in the morning.”

  Matthew frowned. “When I had a stomachache, Mom made me chicken soup.”

  “That’s a good idea.” Emma smiled at Matthew and then Jackson. “I’ll keep that in mind. But you two are going to have a busy afternoon.”

  Matty sat back, arms crossed as his expression turned pensive. “I know.”

  Jackson drove out of downtown; the normally quiet area was congested, but he was patient. Controlled.

  “I’ll be around if you want to talk about things, okay?” She made sure to look at Matty until he nodded. “Whatever you’re feeling is all right. Scared, or excited, maybe a mix of everything.”

  Matty gave a quick nod and looked out the window, his chin quivering.

  Jackson drove up the winding mountain road. “It’s too late to unpack tonight, so let’s do it in the morning.”

  “Okay.” Turning down her long driveway made her wish the night didn’t have to be over. But it did. She eyed Jackson’s profile, his strong jaw, his slim nose. Being together had reawakened her passion for him, only him.

  But at what cost? It was going to hurt, she knew that, either way. Was she brave enough to open her heart? What a joke, she realized with a pang. She’d been acting like she had a choice in the matter, but her heart had already accepted that her soul mate was home again.

  The epiphany didn’t make her feel very intelligent.

  Jackson pulled to a stop next to her SUV.

  “Night, Bandit. Don’t get out, guys. Tonight was really fun. Thanks for everything.”

  Jackson leaned over to kiss her, and she turned so that his mouth grazed her cheek. She was in trouble, emotional trouble. Emma stuck her purse strap over her shoulder, getting out of the truck alone.

  The porch light beckoned, but she didn’t want to leave.

  She blew them a kiss, her eyes locking with Jackson’s. Love blazed, and she stepped backward at the impact. He loved her, yes. She loved him too.

  But he was still going to leave her.

  “How much of a fool are you, Emma?” She watched their taillights disappear down the drive. Love made you stupid.

  Chapter Twenty

  Emma woke cranky the next morning after an angst-filled night. She kicked the covers back and crawled out of bed, going to the bookshelf and her high school yearbook—the one she shared with Jackson.

  She took it to her comfy chair that overlooked the fountain in the yard—the sun’s morning rays caught the drops and created rainbows on the grass. She loved this spot, loved this house that had welcomed her as a frightened girl and guided her to the woman she was right now.

  Flipping the pages, she found the picture he’d set aside of them, kissing at the Harvest Dance. Was he her fate? Did she believe in that? Love always. Another page showed a candid shot of Jackson laughing after a football game, head back, carefree. As a man, he had burdens now that he hadn’t then, but the integrity he carried them with made him stronger and more desirable in her eyes.

  Her phone dinged. Her heart skipped. It was Jackson.

  Can you talk?

  She picked up the phone and typed. Yes.

  He called, and Emma answered on the first ring. “Morning. How are you?”

  “Fine,” he answered in a subdued tone. “I was wondering if I could come over about ten?”

  “Sure.” She hesitated at the undercurrent of emotion in his tone. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. I just wanted to see you before heading to Seattle today with Matty, for Livvie.”

  He wanted to talk in person? Wary, she said, “I’ll help you unpack the truck.”

  “I’ve been up for hours and already did that. Matty’s headed over to a soccer game with a friend. I thought I’d stop by.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  She hurried into the shower, dressing in shorts and a lightweight T-shirt. By nine she’d made coffee and there was no word from Aunt Pep, who must still be sleeping in her room.

  Emma let the dogs out and thumbed through her mail, opening and reading one letter in particular. And yet, even that good news couldn’t dent the apprehension of what Jackson might want to discuss.

  What would she say if he wanted to continue a relationship? How could she honestly say no? It wasn’t smart, but this was Jackson.

  At ten, she was waiting outside when he pulled up on his motorcycle—he offered a spare helmet. Her stomach clenched. “Hi!”

  “Hi,” he rumbled, looking sexy as he stayed on the bike. “Thought I’d take you for a ride down to the beach. Should we see if our old place is there?”

  She looked back to the house, but Pepita was not in sight. Her aunt had told her to give the hottie on the bike a chance. Getting on the back of Jackson’s motorcycle took a big dose of positive self-talk and yes, trust.

  “Sure.”

  “It will be fun, Em. I promise not to take any sharp curves at less than a hundred miles an hour.”

  “Funny.”

  “You think I’m joking?”

  She accepted the helmet he handed her and lifted her chin so that he could adjust the strap—all from his seated position on the leather seat. His green eyes challenged her, and she couldn’t back down.

  Didn’t want to. The pad of his thumb lingered at her lower lip.

  She climbed on behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist as the engine rumbled to life. The power of the motorcycle beneath her was a thrill, but not as thrilling as the feel of Jackson’s torso between her thighs.

  She closed her eyes as the bike jetted down the road, and after a few minutes she dared to look around her at the passing landscape. Pine trees, ivy, blackberry bushes, the feel of the wind against her face, the scent from the bay.

  “Their” spot was an older park with an overgrown emerald-green path that led down to a rocky beach. Driftwood collected in grayish heaps, and
white shells dotted the thick gray sand. Jackson helped her off the bike and onto her wobbly legs.

  He caught her to him, and she looked up. Just the two of them, walking hand in hand to the shore. He dusted off a log and they sat, hip to hip, facing the cresting dark water. Pine trees shaded them from the heat of the summer sun.

  “I can’t believe this is still here.” She looked around in surprise.

  “Waiting for us,” Jackson said.

  As if time had stood still, but that wasn’t possible. Ten years had passed since they’d been here last. “You broke up with me here.”

  He sucked in a breath and turned to look at her. “I am sorry.”

  “I know.” She shifted and leaned down to pick up a white shell, smoothing the edges with her thumb, fighting back tears.

  “I thought you would be long gone right afterward.” He scanned the water. “You were smarter than me. Driven to get an education. I know that you loved me enough to stay in Kingston and get married. If I hadn’t left for the military, you wouldn’t have accomplished everything that you have.”

  She bristled. “You don’t know that, Jackson.” He was right that she would have married him. Would she have given up her education? That didn’t seem possible. “You should have asked me. You chose for us.”

  “For you.”

  “It wasn’t just for me,” she countered. “You had an agenda. To make your dad proud.”

  He scraped a hand over his hair in frustration. “I wanted to be worthy of you, to make you proud, too.”

  “I am. I was then.” She rubbed the shell, loosening flecks of dried sand. “Why are we here, Jackson? Do you regret telling me that you loved me?” And here she’d been thinking he might want to move forward. Fool.

  He picked up a round dark gray rock and tossed it into the water where it landed with a splash. “I wish I would have waited.”

  “For what?” Tears burned her eyes, but she held herself stiff with pride. “You want to break up with me again?” Her laugh was hollow. “We never agreed to date. You are safe.” She threw the shell into the bay. “What are you so afraid of?”

  “Nothing.” His jaw clenched tight.

  “I’m calling you out on that, Jackson.” Her body numbed against the pain of his pushing her away. Because he thought she deserved better? Ha. “I am not some love-struck teenager who is going to let you call the shots. I have a say.”

  He leaned forward, his forearms on his knees, and stared out at the water. “What are you talking about?”

  “You. You think you aren’t good enough, and I happen to disagree. The military is a career, a job, but it does not define you.”

  Jackson scoffed.

  “Have you thought about who you could be outside your unit? Without constantly putting your life in danger? Your life matters to me, to Matty, to Livvie.”

  He folded his hands together, not looking at her. “Men like me are needed on the front line.”

  She briefly closed her eyes. “I’m not taking that away from you, Jackson. You are so brave. I don’t have your courage to stand up for what is right in the middle of a war. I try to do my part right here.”

  He chose another rock and tossed it up and down in his palm. “Just how do you think a sniper would find a job in Kingston, Washington?”

  “You told me you were good with your hands. Help me build Heart to Heart.”

  Before she could tell him her good news, Jackson stood and chucked the rock into the surf. “That’s not who I am.”

  “It could be.” She also got to her feet, taking his hands, the sun bright at the back of his head as it dappled through the trees.

  “Em. I’m a soldier. It’s who I’ve always been meant to be. Don’t you see that who I am would only hold back who you are?”

  “I don’t believe that, and I wish you wouldn’t.” She grasped his upper arms, demanding that he listen to her.

  “My commander expects me back with my unit by August first.”

  He’d told her that he trusted her, but it wasn’t true—he guarded his heart. Just as she had guarded hers. Not fated lovers, but ill-fated.

  In a daze, Emma kissed him for all she was worth, holding him and memorizing him. Knowing that this was goodbye.

  …

  Emma spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning the house and mowing the lawn. She had a ride-on mower, and it soothed her mind to make the neat rows in the grass.

  Pep mopped the floors and didn’t question Emma’s mood, which was just as well, since Emma couldn’t pick one emotion to feel. She ran the gamut between sadness and anger and a smidge of self-pity.

  She washed the dogs and brushed them out, crying between the strokes through their fur. At dusk, she went inside to find that Pepita had created a lavish spread of flatbread pizzas with various toppings. Sliced tomatoes, black olives, onions, and sweet peppers from their garden.

  “I saw you run over the begonias twice,” Pep said, handing her a tall glass of iced tea. “You’re a master on the John Deere. Time to tell me what’s wrong.”

  Emma accepted the tea and cringed. Twice? “Sorry about that.”

  “Those are just flowers. It’s you I’m worried about.” Her aunt motioned for her to sit down at the long kitchen table. “Comfort food. Melted cheese. I figure this has to do with Jackson.”

  She started to protest, but her aunt raised a hand.

  “Don’t waste your breath. I have eyes, and I saw you together yesterday. You are meant for each other, Emma.”

  Hot tears poured down her cheeks. “Nothing has changed,” Emma choked out. “He’s going back to Afghanistan as soon as Livvie is situated.”

  “Any word from the hospital?” Aunt Pep cut a piece of the flatbread and added sliced black olives, putting it on a small plate.

  “No. If Jackson hasn’t texted me before bed, I’ll call. Just because Jackson and I can’t make it work doesn’t mean that I won’t be there for Matty, or Livvie, if she wants.”

  Emma took another drink of the tea, hoping to cool the rush of emotion flushing her system.

  “He thinks he isn’t good enough for me. I tried to reassure him, but he won’t let his guard down enough to believe it.”

  Pep stared at her over the rims of her orange glasses. “Jackson Hardy loves you.”

  “I know,” she said, her words catching on an awful sob.

  Aunt Pep crumbled her napkin. “It’s obvious that you love him.” She took a bite of flatbread.

  “I do.”

  Her throat closed with hurt, and she picked an olive into tiny pieces. “To be fair, I am not willing to let my guard down, not after he broke my heart before.” She dropped the olives. “And he would do it again, for my own good.” Anger dried her tears. “How am I supposed to fight that?”

  Pep frowned. “I really hope you aren’t hiding behind the kennel, because you know we could find a way to run it without you being here.”

  Her mouth dropped and she quickly snapped it closed. “I was thinking about that, actually.” She got up and retrieved the letter she’d opened earlier, bringing it back to the table. “My grant was approved.”

  Pepita lifted her fist and whooped with victory. Sweetie barked from under Pep’s feet. “Wait, does Jackson know?”

  “He didn’t give me the chance to tell him. Well, that’s not true. I asked him to stay with me and build Heart to Heart.” She scanned the approval letter again with disbelief. She’d never seen so many zeroes. “He said no. But this gives us funds to hire Cindy, and Sawyer, to get started, if I was to travel with Jackson. I mean, I’ve never left the United States.”

  She looked at her aunt and blinked back tears. “I thought it was a good plan.” Home was where the heart was…and she wanted to give Jackson hers. Stubborn man didn’t realize it was right there.

  “It is—it still is,” Pep insisted. “Only this time when you talk to Jackson, be clear, Emma.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. We just aren’t meant to be.”r />
  Her cell phone dinged, and all emotions turned to joy within her. She leaped up from the table. “Aunt Pep! Livvie is breathing on her own.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jackson zeroed in on the guy in the mirror and faced his biggest enemy—himself. Writing down his dreams had helped, just as Bandit had helped, and now he was able to accept that he was not guilty of killing Remi. He was not responsible for Iowa’s death. He’d been lucky as a soldier, but he’d also taken precautions.

  Emma’s hazel eyes came to mind. He didn’t want regrets in his life, and losing her would be the ultimate in bad decisions. She loved him and yet he’d walked away from that love once before. How stupid could a man be to do it twice?

  He shaved the scruff from his neck, angling to make sure he hadn’t missed any rough patches. In the past week, Livvie had come around quickly—the doc said it was miraculous, but Jackson knew it was because of her love for her son. She was in a private room at the hospital, and Matty read out loud to her for hours.

  She would need physical therapy to help relearn some motor functions, but she would be home next week. He’d hired a team of people to be with her at the house whenever she was ready to transfer.

  They’d talked about being in the service. Well, he had talked while she had listened. Speech was something that was slow to return, but the doc was certain it would. If her eyebrows were anything to go by, then she was supportive of his decision to find a home here in Kingston and transfer to a desk job in Seattle. Dr. Leonard was helping facilitate that.

  He’d told Livvie about Emma, and she’d squeezed his hand, a lopsided smile forming as he shared his plan to woo her.

  Bandit scratched outside the bathroom door, and Jackson leaned down to splash water over his skin, then patted it dry with a towel. He opened the door, and Bandit eyed him with canine approval. He’d ask Matty, but he was at his friend’s house for the day.

  Jackson dreamed of a future with Emma Mercer—not that she knew it. He prayed that she wouldn’t slam the door in his freshly shaved face.

  He called, and Aunt Pep answered the house phone. “Is Emma there?”