by Meg Harding
While she’s getting him water, Jackson brings his hand up and pokes at the part of his injury covered by hair. The look of relief on his face is comical. Aaron buries his face against Jackson’s arm to hide his smile. He so called that. He makes a humming noise when Jackson pets his hair, nuzzling against his skin. He doesn’t smell like Jackson. He smells like the ocean and the hospital.
“Thank you,” says Jackson. “I just hope someone filmed your heroics.” Laurence makes an indignant noise. “And yours as well. Thank you, both.”
“Oh my God,” mutters Aaron, back to his somewhat hysterical giggling. At least his heartbeat is finally returning to normal. Apparently it was just waiting for Jackson to awaken. He lifts his head to meet Jackson’s gaze. The whites of Jackson’s blue eyes are very red currently. “Please don’t thank us for saving you from drowning. Like we weren’t going to.”
“It’s still the polite thing to do,” insists Jackson. “Does anyone know what happened to Calvin?”
Anna shoves Bastien and Dorian out of the way so she can run a hand gently through Jackson’s hair. “We didn’t stick around long enough. But I’d imagine charges are being pressed.” She gives a watery sounding laugh. “I don’t know what you were thinking, stepping in front of him like that. Why didn’t you just push him?”
“Here. Mom, move. I’ve got his water.” Georgina wiggles into a space that wasn’t there before, thrusting the water toward Jackson. “I got you three Advil too. I know you’re only supposed to take two, but I don’t think three’s going to hurt you. I asked one of the nurses, and she didn’t think it would.”
Jackson doesn’t talk until he’s swallowed the pills and completely drained the paper cup. He stares down into it, working his jaw from side to side. “Maybe I should have asked for gum. I still taste salt.” His stomach gives a loud yowl. “Or food. I could really go for some food right now. Can I leave? I’m totally fine. We can go out to eat.”
“I’ve got gum,” says Tristan.
“I can go ask a nurse about letting you go,” says James, already halfway out the door.
“You’re such a dumbass,” says Anna with nothing but affection in her voice despite the words. “A brave, stupid dumbass.”
Aaron has a feeling that if Jackson didn’t have a head injury, she’d be smacking him across the back of it.
Jackson frowns stubbornly. “I wasn’t going to let him push her off the boat. And in my defense, I didn’t think he’d be able to shove me over. It was a split-second decision.” He looks at Tristan. “I’d appreciate that gum.”
Tristan obligingly digs it out of his pocket and hands it over. “If you don’t mind me asking, you said you’ve had worse. What exactly is worse?”
Jackson pops the gum packet right over his wide-open mouth, and the tiny square drops in. He hands the rest back. “Well, I mean, I’ve never done the whole drowning thing before. But as for head injuries…. Laurence nearly cracked my skull open when I was, like, six.”
“I did not!” protests Laurence. “That was as much your idea as mine.”
Aaron laughs as Jackson waves his hand airily and continues on over Laurence’s angry muttering. “Either way. We went racing down a hill, sitting on skateboards. I hit a tree. Laurence hit a car. Kid stuff, you know? I had a splitting headache for weeks.”
“No,” both Tristan and Aaron say in horror. Aaron can’t speak for Tristan, but he never did anything like that as a child. His parents would have had a fit. The dumbest thing he did was get thrown off his bike when he ran it into a ditch. And that certainly wasn’t on purpose.
“Well,” says Jackson. “We did. It seemed like a good idea until we realized we couldn’t stop the boards. And it worked out all right, yeah? We both survived.” He pats Aaron’s cheek, smiles disarmingly. “If you can walk when it’s all said and done, then it’s a success.”
Aaron wonders if Jackson has any idea how ironic that statement is.
IT’S NOT the worst head injury he’s ever had, but that doesn’t mean the headache that jolts him from sleep doesn’t make him want to scoop his brains out and toss them. He groans, massaging at the noninjured part of his forehead. He flings his free hand out, thinking he’ll get Aaron up and have him get more Advil.
Except the other side of his bed is empty.
He squints his eyes open. The room is pitch-black around him, the curtains pulled shut over the balcony doors. The bathroom door is shut, but there’s no light coming from underneath. He frowns. Aaron was quiet since they left the hospital, barely talking during the casual family dinner in the condo’s living room. He put it down to the stress of the day. But is Aaron mad at him? Did he go to sleep on the couch?
Jackson climbs from the bed, padding out into the living area. There’s no one on the couch. He gets his pills while he’s out there, but by the time he gets back to the bedroom, he can’t remember how many he took. He spends the whole time trying to figure out where Aaron could have disappeared to.
He checks outside. Logically, if Aaron isn’t in the condo, he has to be on the beach.
Even with the moon and the stars, it’s not exactly easy to see if he’s there. And what if he’s gone for a walk? Jackson can’t track him down. Well, he could try. It just wouldn’t be all that smart.
With bare feet and in nothing but his briefs, he makes for the waterline and strains his eyes to see if he can make out an Aaron-shaped shadow.
“What’re you doing out here?”
He shrieks and almost falls over as he spins around, only stopped by Aaron’s quick grasp on his arm. His heart feels like it’s going to leap from his chest. “What the hell?” he gasps. “Warn a guy, yeah?” He rubs at his sternum, frowning thunderously at Aaron.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
Aaron sighs. “I’d rather you not. Can we do this tomorrow?”
Jackson fidgets, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Do what tomorrow? That doesn’t sound good. He hesitates. “All right.”
Aaron kisses him, just a brief brush of lips. “Thank you.”
Once they’re back in bed, Aaron drops right into sleep, his soft snores filling the room. Jackson finds that something other than his headache is keeping him up, though. What could Aaron possibly want to talk to him about tomorrow? Is he going to end their arrangement? The thought makes Jackson feel nauseated, sends his brain spinning into overdrive as it thinks of ways to convince him not to.
And that… that’s a problem. It hits him a lot like that coral in the water.
He’s not supposed to be attached to his fling, because one way or another, this thing is ending. It has an expiration date that occurs in mere days.
He covers his face. How has he already managed to complicate the one thing that was supposed to be simple?
Chapter Thirteen
ONE OF the wonderful things about being an escort is that he’s always dating people—and he never has to break up with them. Because it isn’t real, and there aren’t feelings. They hand him money, he hands them a business card, and everyone continues on with their lives. He can’t do that with Jackson.
But he can’t keep sleeping with him either. He hates that he feels awful about ending things. He has absolutely no idea how he’s going to do it without hurting Jackson. It’s distracting him, making him feel sick. He’s been stress eating jelly beans he bought from the store before they headed out for their golf excursion at the Sea Mountain Golf Course. It’s supposed to be incredibly scenic. Aaron’s a little worried about the Carlisle family whacking hard balls around each other.
The drive to the course took an hour, they’re not even on it yet—they’re getting equipment still—and he’s eaten four bags. At this point he can’t tell if he’s sick from anxiety or from a sugar overload.
It’s probably a mixture of the two.
As he’s mulling this over, he’s stuffing yet more jelly beans into his mouth.
Jackson’s with James
and Bastien, testing the swing of different clubs. He’s been quiet all morning, and a paranoid part of Aaron thinks maybe Jackson knows what he’s going to do. He didn’t kiss him when he got up for his morning yoga, didn’t invite him into the shower when he came back all shiny with sweat and flushed from the sun.
Not that Aaron can complain. He’d have had to come up with excuses if Jackson had. So it’s ridiculous that he feels hurt that he didn’t. He rubs his head, then pops another handful of candy into his mouth. This right here is his problem. His feelings—not the candy.
Tristan bumps into him, putter in hand. It bangs against Aaron’s shin. “What’s wrong?” asks Tristan.
“How do you know anything is wrong?”
Tristan gives him a dead-eyed stare. “You’re eating candy by the pound. The last time I saw you do that you were knee-deep in textbooks and ranting about your economics professor.”
Aaron looks guiltily down at the jelly beans. Damn them for giving him away. He darts a sidelong glance at Jackson. “Can we talk about this later?”
Sharp blue eyes narrow. “Hey, Jackson,” says Tristan, raising his voice, “can Aaron be my partner?”
His stomach sinks when Jackson shrugs, not even looking at him when he says, “Sure.” That’s not like Jackson at all. Something is definitely going on. He scrapes the side of his tongue he bites down so forcefully on his jelly beans.
“Motherfuck,” he swears, bringing his hand up to his mouth like that’s going to do any good.
Georgina strides up, hips swaying and a disarming smile on her face. All of Aaron’s instincts tell him to run. “What’s going on?” she asks, bright gaze jumping between the two of them.
Tristan shrugs, and his voice drops a level when he starts to talk, explaining how he just wants to spend some quality time with Aaron. Aaron wants to roll his eyes. Tristan only ever does that when he’s trying to distract people with his accent. Somehow Aaron doubts that’s going to work on Georgina.
She pokes Tristan in the chest. “I know when you’re fibbing. You better tell me what you’re up to later.”
“Of course.”
Tristan waits till they’re out on the course and Jackson and James are a good distance ahead before he starts pressing for information. “What’s going on? Did Jackson do something? Do you not like him? You know you don’t have to do this. Georgina told me you’re sleeping with him. You know you didn’t have to, right?”
Aaron puts a hand over Tristan’s mouth. Trust Tristan to hit every base at once. “Jackson didn’t do anything. He’s been wonderful. Yes, I’m sleeping with him. I wanted to. As if I’d sleep with him otherwise.”
Tristan yanks his hand away. “You didn’t answer two of my questions.”
He hums in agreement. “I didn’t.” He doesn’t want to say it aloud. It doesn’t seem right to say it to someone other than Jackson.
“Oh, Aaron,” says Tristan, a wealth of understanding in his voice.
He smiles bitterly. “‘Oh, Aaron’ is right.”
Tristan shakes his head. “I should have known. You never sleep with people you work with. Even after they’re not your clients anymore.”
“That’s not true,” says Aaron, putting his hand in the middle of Tristan’s back to push him forward. It’s their turn to tee. “Five years ago I dated an ex client for almost a year. It happens in this business.” It’s better when it doesn’t, but escorts are only human. His and Jake’s romance had been a nice one, and it fizzled out naturally.
“I forgot about him,” mutters Tristan, lips pursed. He swings the putter, and the ball goes sailing. So does some grass.
Aaron lines up for his shot. “No you didn’t,” he says. “He ran over that stupid cat statue you loved, and you never forgave him.” His shot is far cleaner than Tristan’s. Maybe in another life he could have been a golf pro.
“A grown man should know how to back down a driveway without taking out precious possessions.”
There’s only one way to derail this rant. “Yes, he should.” He has to work not to laugh at Tristan’s stupefied expression when he realizes there’s nothing to argue with there. It’s harder to hold back when Tristan harrumphs before heading off toward where his ball has landed.
Tristan waits until two holes later to ask, “What’re you going to do?”
His swing goes wide, and he turns to scowl at Tristan for distracting him. His stomach does its new favorite thing and rolls nauseatingly. “The right thing,” he says, and redoes his swing. It goes wide again. He winces as his ball disappears into one of the many natural ponds dotting the breathtaking landscape.
Even with his less-than-stellar mood, he can appreciate just how beautiful the mountain view of the ocean and the surreal black sand beach leading to it are. And the way the palm trees look like they’re reaching for the sky with their branches spread wide, offering small pools of shade, is gorgeous. He wonders if it’s natural or if they trim them to look like that. The ground is a mix of rolling grass and volcanic rocky patches, making for an interesting and challenging golfing experience.
“What does that even mean?” demands Tristan, following him as he goes to see if he can fish the ball out or if he needs to get a new one.
“Well,” says Aaron, being purposely obtuse. “When the ball goes off the course it means it’s out.”
A putter hitting one’s ass does not feel fantastic. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. If you think you’re going to get hurt, you need to back out now. Don’t keep doing this because you think you’ll hurt him.”
Aaron sticks his club in the water and tries to corral his ball to the edge. He sighs. “I’m going to end the ‘fling.’ I do have some self-preservation, you know. Not a lot, evidently. But a little.”
Tristan clears his throat. “Maybe you could… you could try to actually date him? I mean, I’ve never seen you go for a guy so fast. Maybe it means something. I’m just saying.”
“It’s not realistic,” says Aaron. “Can we please drop the subject?” If he allows the thought to linger, he might begin to believe he’s making the wrong decision.
AFTER A day spent avoiding everyone (while surrounded by them), Jackson feels like he’s a mirror about to crack. He’s eaten nothing but a grapefruit all day, and even with his stomach feeling like a gaping pit, the thought of food is an instant no. He’s not entirely sure the headache pounding away in his temples is due to his recent head injury either. He’s pretty sure it’s got more to do with the emotional battle he’s waging in there.
He’s been so selfish. So absolutely horrible. And it’s ironic, he thinks, that he somehow managed to muck it up even more. It’ll be easy, he thought. You can’t develop feelings in a matter of days. That’s for the movies and the books. It doesn’t happen to real people.
He pinches himself. Maybe this isn’t real and it’s all a dream. But nothing changes, and yeah, that’s what he figured. He drags his hands over his face. During his morning yoga, he came to a conclusion about what he needs to do. He just wishes it didn’t make him feel so awful. Aaron’s going to think he did something wrong, but really it’s Jackson who did. Jackson who couldn’t keep a lid on his rabid feelings. Jackson who now has to scramble to protect himself from getting hurt all over again (even if unintentionally being hurt might be a change of pace for him).
But he’s doing more than that too. Because he’s realized just what a dumbass he’s been, and he can’t ignore everything anymore. It’s time to start fixing things.
His heart in his throat and his stomach doing the Tilt-A-Whirl, he seeks out Aaron after dinner. He’s sitting on their balcony, hands under his head and impossibly long legs stretched out. His feet hang off the end of the lounge chair when he doesn’t bend his knees.
“Can we talk?” he asks him, hands shoved in his pockets to keep from nervously picking at his nails.
“Yeah,” says Aaron. He looks serious and a little sad. Does he know what Jackson’s about to say? “I was just about to
come looking for you.”
Jackson swallows heavily, feeling like there’s a rock lodged in his esophagus. He takes the chair beside Aaron but doesn’t relax in it. He props his elbows on his knees. “Can I go first?” If he doesn’t, he might not be able to get the words out.
“Sure.” Aaron sits up and mirrors his posture.
He’s tempted to hide his face, to avoid looking Aaron in the eyes. But that’s not right, and he may be a coward and a jackass, but he isn’t that big of one. He can give him this much. “I…. You said we could stop our… fling at any time. If it wasn’t working.” He twists his fingers together. “I’d like to end it now. I’ve dragged you into a situation that should have never been.” He laughs harshly. “I’m a grown man, and I lied to my family and brought you into this mess because I’m acting like a child. I need to get over myself. I need to stop dwelling on the past.”
He gives in to the urge to bury his face in his hands for just a second. “You have to understand—well, no, you don’t, but it would be helpful if you did—that I’m the problem.”
Aaron starts to protest, and Jackson puts a hand out to stall him.
“No, let me finish.” Aaron goes silent. Jackson sighs. “I ignore the stuff that sucks. I pretend it isn’t there. I look for the easy way out of a situation. I don’t like conflict. I’m not the person who cheats. Or the person who lies to my partner. Or the person who steals your stuff in the morning. I don’t cause scenes. But I don’t stand up for myself till it’s over. I’m never the selfish one, and I think, for a relationship to work, sometimes you have to be. Sometimes you have to say this is what I want.
“And I am so beyond sorry that I’m realizing this now. That I’m going to ruin your trip by being selfish at this moment. But I don’t want a fling. I am completely not equipped to deal with something like this. I want a relationship. I want someone to come home to. I want someone who I can look at and think ‘you’re perfect to me’ even if they’re not to anyone else.” He smiles, his eyes watering. “You have been absolutely fantastic this trip. You’ve dealt with my neurosis, my complete and utter lack of self-confidence. I am beyond grateful for that.