by Jaci Burton
Almost.
The memories of them, of the last time he saw them, were so painful he tried his best to forget.
“You’re quiet.”
He lifted his gaze to find his dad staring at him. “Your comment about the door always being open made me think back about old times.”
“Which ones?”
“When I first came to live here.”
“So, some good times, some not so good.”
He clapped his dad on the back. “All good times with you and Mom, Dad.”
His dad smiled. “You’re a good kid. Always were.”
Jackson grinned. “Except that time when I was fifteen and I took your truck for a joyride in the middle of the night.”
“Yeah, well, no kid is perfect. And as I recall, you spent a month with no TV, no phone and no video games as a result of that lapse in judgement.”
Jackson winced. “That was the longest month of my life.”
“You deserved it.”
He laughed. “I did.”
They walked along the beds, occasionally pulling weeds they saw.
“So . . . about Becks.”
He knew the subject was going to come up. If not from his dad, then definitely from his mom.
“What about her?”
“Girlfriend? Roommate? What?”
“Just a roommate. I’m not in the market for a girlfriend.”
“Have you ever been?”
His dad knew him all too well. “No. Not my thing.”
“That’s what concerns me.”
This was new. He stopped, straightened, and looked at his father. “What?”
“That you don’t form attachments.”
“Dad, I have plenty of attachments. You and Mom and Rafe and Kal. I’m attached to all of you.”
“That’s family. We’ve been together a lot of years, and even that took an enormous amount of work to make happen, for all of us to bond together. I’m talking about a relationship. Someone to care about.”
He shrugged. “I’ve had other things on my mind. My education. Fire training. Building my career. It wasn’t exactly conducive to bringing a woman into my life.”
“Maybe not in the beginning, but you’ve been settled into your firefighting career for a while now, Jackson. And yet you still seem to hold yourself away from forming any kind of bond with anyone.”
Jackson didn’t see it that way, and he was being honest with his father when he told him that his career had come first.
“I’ve dated plenty.”
“Dating isn’t the same thing as falling in love with someone. Have you ever even been in love?”
“No.”
“Hmmm.” His dad walked away, focusing his attention on his tomato plants.
Jackson followed. “What does that ‘hmmm’ mean?”
He looked up at Jackson, a warm smile on his face. “It means that maybe it’s time to give that love thing a try, see how it feels.”
Jackson already knew what it felt like to love people. To lose the people you loved. He wanted no part of that ever again.
“We’ll see.”
“Becks seems really nice.”
Jackson glanced up at the porch where Becks sat with his mom. They were both drinking iced tea and engrossed in conversation as if they’d known each other forever.
He hadn’t spent much time talking to Becks tonight. He didn’t know why. Maybe because his mom had grabbed her right off and taken her into the kitchen to talk over . . . whatever it was the two of them had talked about.
Hopefully not him. Because while he had an attraction to Becks, that was all it was. That was all it ever could be.
“Yeah, she’s nice.”
“And you two have a lot in common.”
He could see where his father was going with this. “I didn’t even remember who she was when we first saw her again, Dad.”
“That’s because you try to shut out that part of your past. Maybe if you tried digging into it again you’d remember Becks more clearly.”
“She was just a kid back then. I like the woman she is right now. That’s enough for me.”
“Hmmm.”
His dad walked off, leaving Jackson feeling irritated and out of sorts.
Him and his hmmms. Jackson knew exactly what his dad was about. He meant that as a way for Jackson to start thinking about what he was doing and how he felt. He knew exactly how he felt. He felt just fine about the way things were going between Becks and him.
In the present. Today.
He didn’t need to dig into the past to feel any differently about Becks.
And he sure as hell never needed to fall in love. With anyone. Ever.
CHAPTER 13
Becks had had a great night with Jackson and his family. His mother was warm and compassionate and they’d spent most of the evening together talking. Kal had joined in at one point and the two of them had regaled his mother with stories of their time on the streets. Not the bad stuff, just the fun times they’d had. And there had been a lot of fun times.
It had been fascinating to hear the story about Laurel’s connections as a social worker and how she’d played an integral part in arranging for them to be placed in the Donovans’ care as foster parents. Her connections had also helped pave the way for their eventual adoption.
The entire thing had been amazing and fortuitous. She’d told Kal she was so happy things had turned out for him like they had. He’d said he’d been lucky to end up with parents who loved him, considering what he’d started out with.
She knew he’d had bad circumstances with his birth parents, but back then none of them had ever delved too deeply into their pasts. She also knew she could probably ask him about it and he’d likely talk to her.
Unlike Jackson, who sat beside her on the ride home clammed up and not saying a word. Which wasn’t unusual for him, but for some reason she got a vibe that he was irritated.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
“Nope.”
Okay, then. Definitely pissed. She’d barely had a conversation with him all night, so it couldn’t have been anything she’d done or said.
“Would you like to talk about it?”
“Nope.”
“Of course you wouldn’t.”
He shot a glare at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you never want to talk about your feelings.”
“I talk plenty about my feelings. I talked about my damn feelings all damn night. I’m just talked out.”
“Okay. Sorry.” Wow, definitely a bug up his ass. She intended to steer clear of Grumpy Firefighter for the rest of the night.
So she huddled against the door and checked social media, determined to pretend he didn’t exist.
When he pulled into the driveway, he shut off the engine. She was about to hop out and go hide in her room when he said, “Sorry, Becks.”
She turned to face him. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not. My dad said some things that upset me and I barked at you and that’s not fair. I shouldn’t take it out on you. I’m sorry.”
“You’re forgiven. I’m sorry you’re upset.”
“Thanks.”
They got out and went inside. She’d noticed neither Rafe nor Kal were home.
“Where are your brothers?” she asked.
He laid his keys on the hook just inside the door. “Friend of ours has a club. They mentioned they were going there after they left Mom and Dad’s.”
“Oh. Are you going?”
“The club scene isn’t my thing. I’d rather swim a few laps and work off some of tonight’s dinner.”
“I’ll let you get to it, then.” She started to head upstairs.
“Hey, Becks.”
She st
opped at the landing where the stairs curved. “Yes?”
“Wanna take a swim with me?”
She tried to ignore the little flutter in her stomach elicited by his invitation. “I’d love to. I’ll be right back.”
She kept her steps slow and even as she ascended the stairs, trying not to run.
When she closed the door to her room, she stifled a small Whee! of excitement.
Honestly, girl. It’s not like he asked you on a date or anything. You’re just going for a dip in the pool. As roommates.
Yeah, right. Roommates who’d kissed.
Her lips still tingled from that kiss. Her sex still tingled from that kiss, and she remembered every detail he’d told her of the things he wanted to do with her.
She wanted all those things.
But for right this minute? A swim sounded great.
She changed into her swimsuit and slid into her flip-flops, threw a cover-up over her suit and went downstairs. She didn’t see Jackson, so she assumed he was already outside.
He was, in the water doing laps.
Apparently he hadn’t been kidding about the swimming laps part. She walked out there and kicked off her flip-flops, pulled off the cover-up and laid it over one of the chairs, then stood at the water’s edge.
He apparently hadn’t noticed her, which was good because she was enthralled watching the way his body knifed through the water, his arms cutting in without even making a wake. His movements were smooth and sure, the mark of confidence as he made his way to one end, dipped under and propelled his body forward before surfacing and stroking his way to the other edge.
He was mesmerizing to watch. She finally sat at the edge of the pool and dipped her legs in the water, wondering how long he’d be able to continue.
He did two more laps, then disappeared into the depths. Since it was dark outside and there were no lights on in the pool, she had no idea where he’d gone. She searched the water for him, looking for him to reappear on the other side of the pool, but he didn’t.
Until she felt his hands on her ankles and he surfaced next to her, spraying her with water. She yelped.
“You scared the shit out of me,” she said, kicking water at him.
He laughed. “Were you worried about me?”
“No. Yes. Dammit. Asshole.”
He grinned. “You coming in?”
“I might.”
“Come on. Jump. I’ll catch you.”
“I can swim, you know.”
He gave her a devilish smile. “More fun if you let me catch you.”
She got up, then jumped in, feeling his hands along her sides as she slid into the water. When she surfaced, he was right there. She swiped her hair out of her face and wrapped her legs around his waist.
“You saved me,” she said.
“Yeah, you were in real danger in five feet of water.”
“Hey, don’t ruin my lifeguard fantasies.”
He swept his hands around her back and bobbed them up and down in the nicely cool water. “Lifeguard fantasies, huh? Did I ever tell you I was a lifeguard for a couple of years?”
“Really. That explains how well you swim.”
“Yeah. Dad got us all into swimming right away after he and Mom fostered us. The first time they took us to the beach they realized we didn’t know how to swim. After that weekend all three of us were signed up for swimming lessons.”
“And you liked it.” What she really liked was having her legs wrapped around Jackson, the two of them floating along the water while they talked.
“I liked it a lot. I’d always been drawn to the water. But, you know, it wasn’t like we had family vacations at the beach or anything when we were kids.”
“What about before?”
He frowned. “Before? Oh . . . I don’t remember.”
She’d bet he did remember, but he didn’t want to talk about it. She wasn’t going to push him. Not tonight. “Obviously you love the water.”
“There’s nothing like it. The buoyancy, that feeling of freedom you get when it’s just you and the water. I always felt that. Even before I knew how to swim. You know?”
“I understand. I loved the water, too. Sometimes when I’d go off by myself, I’d sneak out to the beach on weekends when it was crowded with people and just hide out and watch, imagining myself as part of one of those happy families.”
He smoothed his knuckles over her cheek. “That’s like a form of self-torture, Becks.”
She shrugged. “Not for me it wasn’t. It was like a game of fantasyland. I liked to imagine that someday it could happen.”
“And did it?”
She shrugged. “Sort of. That nice family that fostered me also liked the ocean. And they only fostered four kids, so they’d take us to the beach sometimes. They also had a pool in the backyard and my foster dad taught me to swim.”
“That’s nice.”
“It was.”
“Do you still see them?”
“My foster parents? After I first aged out I visited a few times. They always welcomed me. But they ended up having to move up north when Rosie—that’s my foster mom—when her mother got sick. So they moved to Vermont.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I liked her, but she wasn’t my real mom or anything.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Sometimes. I don’t have a mom person to talk to about mom-and-daughter things. Then again, I never had that anyway, so how can you miss what you never had?”
He shifted her so he held her in his arms. “You’re so matter-of-fact about it. Doesn’t it hurt?”
Some people would be bothered that he was digging. She liked that he wanted to know more about her, about her past and her feelings. “Yes and no, which I know doesn’t make sense. We didn’t exactly have traditional childhoods. I’ve been to friends’ houses and seen relationships they have with their parents—both good ones and bad ones. You and your brothers have a wonderful relationship with your parents.”
“Yeah.”
“My friend Margie? Her parents are awful people.”
He frowned. “How so?”
“Always fighting with each other. Margie says it’s tense there, all the time. She moved out when she was eighteen, just to get away from the constant bickering. She said they should have gotten a divorce a long time ago, but they’re that couple that stayed together because of the kids. Margie has two younger siblings. Anyway, she said her parents play the blame game and she and her siblings have always been dragged into the middle of their fights.”
“That can’t be fun.”
“No. My parents were awful people, too. But they were just criminals and drug dealers. At least they got along. Which isn’t saying much.”
“So what happened with you and your parents?”
“I got in the way. Can’t make money selling dope when there’s always a kid who wants to be fed and taken to school and has homework. So they just up and took off one day when I was at school.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
She shook her head and pulled away from him, letting herself float in the water, the awful memories of that day making her wish she could escape them. “Not kidding. When I got home the apartment was empty. Not that there was much there to start with.”
“Christ, Becks. I’m sorry. What did you do?”
“Sat there for a really long time and cried. I was eight years old, so I didn’t know what to do. Then I waited for them to come home, figuring they’d gone out.”
“How long did you wait?”
“Three days. I went to school, came home, stayed alone at night, scared and huddled in my bed with all the lights on, hoping they remembered they had a kid they were supposed to come home to. I waited as long as I could, but the food ran out and I got so hungry I h
ad to tell my teacher at school that my parents hadn’t come home for several days. They called child services, who collected me and placed me in foster care.”
“How long did you last in foster care?”
“I made it two years initially, then I bailed when I was ten. That was after the experience with creepy foster dad. I had a hard time trusting people after that, and one of the kids I was housed with told me you were often safer on the streets if you could hook up with a group you trusted.”
“What about your parents? Did they ever come back for you or try to get you back?”
She lifted herself out of the pool and sat on the edge. “No. Child services and the cops searched for my parents, but I was never told they’d been found.”
He swam over and hoisted himself next to her. “Well, that sucks.”
“Yeah.”
He waited a beat, then asked, “Did you ever look for them when you were an adult?”
She nodded. “At first I didn’t want to know, but once I graduated from high school I researched. My dad’s doing thirty years in the federal penitentiary in Tallahassee for armed robbery with a deadly weapon. My mom died of a drug overdose ten years ago.”
He drew her into his arms. “Goddammit, Becks. I’m sorry.”
She’d cried buckets of tears for what seemed like days on end when she’d found out about her mom and dad. Why, she had no idea, since it was obvious they’d never cared about her. And then she vowed to never think about them ever again, to never let them or thoughts about them enter her universe again.
And they hadn’t. Until tonight. Strangely enough it didn’t hurt as much talking about them as it had before. Maybe because Jackson had been holding her, and their tone had been conversational. He’d never once pressed her to give up information she might not have wanted to.
And right now the comfort he gave her by holding her in his arms was all she needed to banish those ghosts from her past.
“Thank you,” she said, letting her head remain on his chest.
“For what?”
“For letting me talk about it. I know you don’t like to relive the past.”
“Hey.” He tipped her chin so she was looking at him. “This is your past, not mine. And you can talk about it anytime you want to.”