Bunk beds? No, thank you.
"Fine," I reply, caving, "but I'm not having sex with you in your parents’ bed."
Slowly making his way to where I'm standing, Jackson wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. "I can think of a few places I'd rather have you anyway."
Kissing the side of my neck, Jackson pulls my jacket off and tosses it to the side. Spinning me in his arms, he captures my lips as he continues undressing me. My hands fly to his belt, ripping it off him. It's not until we're both naked that I realize he's pushed me down onto the bed.
"No, Jackson!" I scream. "It's too weird."
Lifting me effortlessly, Jackson carries me out of the bedroom and sets me down on the kitchen counter.
"Better?"
"It's about to be," I say, and I slide to the edge of the counter, pushing my body against his.
Lying in front of the fire, Jackson tells me more about the cabin. It's remote, at least a mile from the closest house. Lake Michigan is in the backyard. He wanted to show me the property–all thirty acres of it–but it's starting to get dark, so we'll do that tomorrow.
His parents bought it when he was a baby. They wanted a place to escape from the city in the summertime. Jackson and his family spent most of their weekends up here, playing in the water and running through the woods. His childhood sounds amazing from what I can tell. I think it has a lot to do with his parents.
His mother was a school teacher until a few years ago when she retired. His father was an executive for one of the big automobile companies. Needless to say, they were both busy. Having a place like this to hang out with their kids was what they always wanted. I wish his father had been able to finish the remodel. I can see them living here happily.
#8 See the northern lights
Once the darkness sets in, Jackson and I take a walk down to the lake. There's a slim chance we'll be able to see the northern lights tonight. It's overcast, and there's a storm headed this way. It might be a few days before we get our chance.
Two days. The storm is fierce, dumping almost six inches of snow on the ground. Once it clears, so does the sky. That night, after putting on an extra layer of clothes, and grabbing a blanket, Jackson and I head down to the water to view the show.
Greens, yellows, reds, and blues swirl across the sky. It's as if they're dancing around each other and with each other at the same time. My body is cold, my hands numb, yet I can't look away. I may never get another chance to see them, so I'll cherish the time I have right now.
"What do you think?" Jackson asks. We've been sitting in silence for almost an hour.
"They're amazing."
"I've seen them when they're bigger and brighter."
"Really?"
"Yeah. This is my favorite time, though. Sharing it with you. The look of awe on your face–nothing is better than this."
"Thank you. This is perfect."
"You made the list, Jessa. I'm just helping you check everything off it."
"I made most of the list," I say, remembering the one item he added.
"You'll find out soon enough," he replies as if he knows I'm about to ask again if he'll tell me what he wrote.
Cuddling up, I rest my head against Jackson's should and watch the sky. We're going to have to go in eventually. Until then, I'm going to enjoy this moment with Jackson the best I can.
We have three days to get to Green Bay. We don't have enough time to stop and see all the things I wanted to see. Not to mention the storm that hit us the other day also hit the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. They got close to a foot of snow in some places. Not the kind of weather I want to hunt for waterfalls in.
Crossing over the Mackinac Bridge is scary. I can feel the wind pushing the car. Jackson's hands are gripping the steering wheel, his focus on the road ahead of us. Neither of us is talking as we make our way across. Time seems to stand still as the car pushes forward.
Once were safely on the other side, on solid ground, I let out a sigh of relief. Who knew driving across a bridge would be so scary? It's not like it's the first bridge I've ever crossed or even the longest. The wind, though, as it moved the car slightly left and right, felt like it was trying to either push us off the bridge or pick us up and carry us away.
Never again.
No matter what the circumstances.
Will I ever cross that bridge again?
No way. No how.
"That was bad," Jackson finally says. "It's never been that windy when I've crossed before."
"Let's not do that again," I say, letting go of the handle above the door. When I was in high school, we called it the "oh shit" handle. Since I was reciting those words over and over again the entire time, it was fitting that I was holding onto it.
Stopping to get gas, I stretch my legs and stock us up on snack food and water. Walking out of the gas station, I catch sight of Jackson. He's staring off into space as he leans against the car. Even bundled up in bulky winter gear, he looks sexy as hell. The best part is that he's all mine.
My thumb gravitates to the band of my ring, moving it back and forth on my finger. What am I doing? Why did I agree to marry him if I know that I'm probably going to die before I can even plan a wedding? I'm setting us both up for heartbreak. Maybe it would be better if we ended this trip now.
Or maybe I should finish the trip on my own. Once we land in Kansas City, we can part ways. He can go back to his normal life, and I can carry out the rest of my mission alone. Maybe if I let him go now, it won't hurt so much to say goodbye later. The last thing I want is to hurt him more than I already know I will.
"Ready?"
Blinking twice, I realize I'm staring at Jackson. I probably look like a crazy person.
"Yeah," I say in a breath.
"Well, let's go. It's cold out here."
Forcing a smile, I walk the final few feet to where the car’s parked and hop in, tossing the snacks at my feet. As soon as we're on the road, I hand him a bottle of water and a bag of... of... Shit! What are these called? How do I not know? I've eaten them a million times.
Staring at the bag in my hands, I rack my brain for the answer. One word. They're crunchy and salty. They're twisted into an awkward heart shape. Baked, not fried. What the hell? Why can't I remember?
This is going to piss me off.
"Can I have the pretzels or are you going to murder them?" Jackson asks.
Looking down, I see that I've tightened my grip on the bag, causing it to not only pop open but also crushing some of the pretzels in to pieces.
Pretzels.
A simple word that my brain refused to remember.
This is not happening. I'm not going to let it.
"Yeah, sorry."
"What's going on, Jessa? I can see that something is wrong. Don't think I don't notice. I can tell when you're sad, when you're angry, or when you're frustrated. Right now you're a combination of all three."
My gut tells me the truth is the way to go here. I should confess my problem. It's not like it happens all the time, though. It's not like it even happens every day. It's been weeks since I've forgotten anything. No need to worry him over something so small.
"It's nothing, really."
"I don't buy it, but you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I understand."
No, no, he doesn't. Or at least he shouldn't understand. Unless he's losing his mind, too. It doesn't matter. He's not going to pry, and I'm going to change the subject.
"Where are we headed now?"
"I was thinking we could head up to the pictured rocks, stay the night, and then head to Green Bay. It's going to be a beautiful drive, but it's going to take us a while."
"No rush. Let's just enjoy the drive. It's beautiful up here, completely different than Kansas City."
"It sure is. When I first moved there, I was shocked at how different things were. I knew it would be, but I didn't realize how different. I expected snow in the winter like we get here. The first few years, I didn't miss it. Aft
er a while, though, I craved the cold winters and the seasons changing. Most of all, I missed pelting people with snowballs."
"You would."
"Well, I'd never throw one at you, but you aren't related to me. My brothers and I took it very seriously when we were growing up. Every man for himself. There were always three snow forts in the yard. Whoever got home from school and finished their homework first got to work on their fort until the others were done. Mine was always the biggest. I had the least amount of homework."
"Sounds like fun."
"It was until someone got hurt. Someone always got hurt. ‘Man down’ meant snowball fight over. We always aimed at the head even though we knew that meant someone was going to get hurt. Devin threw one at Tommy so hard, one time, he ended up with a black eye."
"What'd your mom say about that?"
"She was at a conference for the weekend. Dad covered for us. Tommy never told him who threw the snowball. We all ended up grounded. It was worth it, though. It was the best snowball fight ever."
Jackson tells me war stories of growing up the youngest boy as we make our way farther and farther north. Darkness quickly falls, making it hard to see. We decide to pull off and find a room for the night. It's taken us longer than planned to make it this far.
The hotel is crap. Well, it's not, but when you compare it to the amazing places we've been staying, it's worse than crap. All I care about is that it's warm and the sheets are clean. I'm sure if I take a black light to them they won't look as clean as they do right now, but that's beside the point.
"Want to order some food and call it a night?"
"Yeah," I say, yawning. I've done nothing but sit in a car all day. It's the little things that drain me these days. Doing nothing is almost as tiring as attempting to do everything.
Laughing as he picks up his phone, Jackson orders us a pizza. Turning on the TV, the news pops up, warning us of an impending storm. It's supposed to hit tonight, last until tomorrow night, and then break the following morning. If we're lucky, we'll make our flight. If not, we may be stuck here for a few days.
"Well, nothing we can do about that now. I guess we make ourselves comfortable and wait it out."
"Are you sure we can't keep going? How bad can it really be? It looks fine outside," I say, praying it blows over quickly.
"Storms can be tricky. Things can look fine one second, and then the wind will start to blow, snow will start to fall, and you won't be able to see past your outstretched hand. Winter isn't a joke up here. When they say hunker down, they mean it. Plus, it's not like we don't have each other to keep us entertained," he suggests.
"You only think you're entertaining," I retort, a hint of laughter in my voice that I can't hide.
"Oh, Ms. Kline, I think I've done very well entertaining you these last few months." Scooting closer to me on the bed, Jackson pushes me back and hovers over me. "Do you disagree?"
"Why no, Mr. McCall, I don't disagree."
Kissing me lightly on the lips, he asks, "Are you sure?"
"Mmmmm." It's all I can manage now that my lips are occupied other ways.
There's a knock at the door just as Jackson is about to slip his hand down my pants. We both moan in protest as Jackson leaves me to answer it. Pizza. My stomach is happy, the rest of me is craving something else now. Something spicier.
Chapter 17
Jackson was right. The storm was no joke. After we ate pizza, Jackson ran to the store in town and bought food to get us by for a few days. The snow began to fall just as he returned and didn't stop for thirty-six hours. The news said it dropped almost twenty-four inches of snow. It looks like it was more than that.
The car is covered on all sides. Borrowing a shovel from the front desk, Jackson has to dig the car out before we can leave. It's amusing to watch until he touches me with his cold hands for laughing at him when he slipped.
As soon as the car is warm, we pack up our things and hit the road. Our plan is to head straight for Green Bay. We have an entire day before we need to be there, but Jackson's not sure how the roads will be, so we're going to play it safe, take our time, and get as far as we can today. If we make it all the way there, we can always try to catch an earlier flight or stay in the city.
The trees are covered in snow. It's one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen. What amazes me most about them is the fact that the snow is piled high on each thin branch and not falling down. It's almost as if they're little walls of snow. How can the branch withstand so much weight? How is the snow standing straight up and not toppling over?
The farther we get across the state, the more snow we encounter. We drive through areas where the snow has been cleared from the roadway and others where it looks as if they haven't even bothered. It takes us almost a full nine hours to make the trek, and by the time we're less than fifty miles from Green Bay, I'm excited to be done with this part of our trip.
Jackson did great, traversing the snow-covered, icy roads, but my oh shit handle got a workout. I'm a horrible passenger when I feel like something is going to happen. That feeling crept into my bones the moment we left the hotel. Knowing that I was agitating him, I tried to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, I pictured the car skidding off the road and crashing into a tree.
"Do you want to go to the airport and see if they can get us on a flight tonight, or do you want to find a place to crash until tomorrow?" Jackson asks as we get closer.
"Whatever you prefer. If you're tired, we can just grab a hotel."
I'm ready to get home, but at the same time, I'm not ready for what happens next. Telling my parents is going to be one of the hardest things I've ever had to do or ever will do. Jackson thinks telling them that we're engaged will soften the blow. I don't think that's how it works. I'm not sure the happy news is going to make the bad seem less devastating.
"I vote for getting a room, then. I could use a little time alone with you before I meet your parents, and as much as I will miss gripping this steering wheel for dear life, I'm ready to relax for a little bit."
"Take me to bed!" I holler in delight, eliciting a laugh from Jackson.
As soon as we get settled in our room, I call dibs on the shower. My body has a chill that doesn’t seem to be going away on its own, so I want to try scalding my skin to see if that works. It does, but only until I turn the water off. Then I'm back to shivering, only it's not as bad as it was.
Jackson must have been more exhausted. Walking back into the room, I find him fast asleep still fully dressed. I contemplate waking him until I hear him softly snoring. Instead, I admire his beauty for a moment before I remove his shoes and throw a blanket over him. I'll let him sleep. He obviously needs it.
The next morning, we head straight to the airport. Our flight isn't for hours, but we have nowhere else to be. Jackson offered to drive us around town to check out the city, but I declined. Nothing sounded interesting. Maybe it's because I have other things on my mind. Maybe it's because I'm not a huge fan of cheese. He seemed disappointed until we found out we could catch an earlier flight home and I promised to make the extra hours we have alone worth his while.
He had been upset I let him sleep in the hotel. He had wanted to "have his way with me" as he likes to say. I wasn't waking the sleeping giant, though. Plus, he looked too damn cute to wake. I watched him sleep for hours before I finally fell asleep myself.
As we land back home, in the city where I grew up and have lived all my life, a feeling of nausea washes over me. Today, it all becomes a little more real. I told Jackson and Amber weeks ago, and when I did, it made being sick my reality. When I tell my parents, it will become not only a reality but my future. Instead of running from death, I'll be chasing my own fate.
I don't like it.
Today is day one of the rest of my life.
Jackson's apartment is just as he left it. In fact, it looks as if someone has been living there all along. It's clean, not a speck of dust on anything. There are few plates and glasses
in the dish rack in the sink, clean and dry. His bed is made, but you can tell someone sat on it recently.
"Who's been here while you were gone?" I ask as I quickly strip off all my clothing.
"One of my employees has been staying here every couple of days so it doesn't look like it's vacant. I didn't want anyone to notice I was gone and try to break in."
"Good plan," I reply, crawling on top of a now naked Jackson.
"I have lots of good plans," he playfully growls at me. "Let me show you what I have planned for the next two hours."
God, does he ever have good plans. He makes every second of those two hours count until we're almost late to my parents’ house. Running two blocks to the gym to pick up Jackson's car, we pull into their driveway five minutes early. With all the rushing around we were doing, I forgot to panic. Until now. Now, I'm frozen in my seat, freaking out about anything and everything as it all bombards my brain.
That's the problem, my brain is the problem. All my life. it's done great things, exceeded expectations, and produced above-average results. Until now. Now, I'm stuck with a brain that's infected and worthless.
"Jessa, it's going to be fine. I promise. We'll get through this together. I'll be right there. Just tell them the truth, as much as you can get out, and we'll go from there."
"I can't do it. I can't break their hearts, Jackson. It's not fair to them. They worked so hard to give me everything I ever wanted, they're raising my son so that I could pursue a career and create a better life for myself. Now, I'm going to die on them. No one should ever have to bury their child. Ever. I can't do this to them."
I keep repeating it over and over again until Jackson grabs my hand and give it a squeeze, calming me.
"I won't tell them for you, and I can't make you tell them, but I think you should. Remember, we're still getting a second opinion. You might not think it's worth it, that they won't tell you anything different, but you need to at least give it a shot. If not, you're giving up without a fight. That's not you; we both know that."
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