by Jamie Beck
Then she glanced at the clock and sighed. “I wish I could stay all night, but I’d better go home in case my dad or Luc wakes up and needs me.”
For the first time in years, Jackson wasn’t happy for an excuse to uncouple and sleep alone. He almost resented the other men in her life, but he kicked the feeling aside and nipped at her lower lip. “Leaving me wanting more, are you?”
“Am I?” Her dimples deepened beneath twinkling blue eyes.
“You are.” He forced himself to release her and then sat up to watch her scurry around to get dressed. “I told you I don’t like to stop at just one of anything.”
She grinned, and it suddenly struck him funny that he could joke about his drinking with her. Maybe that was a good sign. Maybe he’d prove Doc wrong, and this relationship would help take him across the finish line with his recovery.
Once fully clothed, she sat at the edge of the mattress and clasped his hand. “Please don’t start regretting this as soon as I walk out the door. I know the odds are that this affair will be brief, and we’ll probably never be more than long-distance friends. But let’s see where it leads, one day at a time.”
Long-distance friends already sounded wrong. Of too little significance to carry the full weight of his feelings for Gabby. Yet, he’d known her for so short a time, how could he possibly consider them anything more?
“One day at a time . . . my new mantra.” He tugged on the ends of her hair, and pulled her in for a final kiss good night. “No matter what happens next, I’ll never regret tonight. I’m only sorry you have to leave now.”
He stood and followed her to the door, then watched until she disappeared into her dark house. The apartment suddenly seemed cold and empty, like the night he’d lost power.
Questions and judgments began circling his thoughts, threatening to destroy the pleasant buzz still surging through his veins. He shook them off, determined to sustain this sliver of happiness.
Closing his eyes, he recalled Gabby’s flushed cheeks and parted lips, then drifted into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jackson shook Doc’s hand before taking his usual seat on the sofa. It struck him then that the office, which initially had inspired a claustrophobic reaction, now seemed cozy. Too bad his change of attitude did nothing to soothe his queasy stomach this morning.
Ever since he’d first opened his eyes, Jackson had been dreading talking about his family and Gabby. Of course, while still in bed, the lingering perfume of pear-scented lotion and long strands of Gabby’s hair on his pillow had put a temporary smile on his face.
Doc’s gaze homed in on Jackson’s knee, which restlessly bounced. “Edgy?”
Jackson stilled his leg and cracked his knuckles, working up his courage. His dad had taught him to tackle the hardest part of any problem first because that made everything else easier to address. This occasion called for him to follow that good advice, although he didn’t look forward to facing Doc’s disappointment.
Jackson finally looked up. “I’ve got a confession.”
“Did you drink?” Doc leaned forward, his expression engaged but lacking judgment.
“No.” Jackson watched the man’s features shift quickly from relief to curiosity. “But I’ve met someone—a woman. Actually, I met her when I first arrived and, against your advice, I’ve let things develop.”
“In what way?”
“The usual way.” Jackson slunk deeper into the sofa. His muscles tensed under Doc’s scrutiny, reminding him of the time he and his buddies got busted for painting their senior class graduation year across the stadium parking lot.
Doc remained on the edge of his seat. “Friendship?”
“Sex.” Jackson then frowned and changed his answer. “Well, friends first. Then sex—last night.”
Doc nodded. His eyes remained fixed on Jackson while a few beats of silent contemplation passed. “The fact that you’re mentioning this tells me this was different from the kind of sex you’ve been having lately.”
“Yes.”
“In what way?”
“In every way.” Gabby offered compassion, understanding, desire, and connection all bundled up into an adorable package. Jackson shifted, as if finding a more comfortable position would magically alleviate his mental discomfort. “In every way better.”
“Better because . . . ?” Doc’s shrewd gaze never wavered.
“She’s a rare person. Brave. I really like her.”
“You didn’t like the other women you’ve had sex with since Alison?”
“I didn’t dislike them. I barely knew them.”
“But you barely know this new woman, either.” Doc rubbed his chin.
“I know her.” Time didn’t define the intimacy they shared. “Sometimes it feels like I’ve known her for years. She gets me.”
The minute those words left his mouth, he flushed because he sounded like a teenage boy with a bad crush.
Doc, however, didn’t smirk. “How so?”
“Can’t explain it.” Jackson shrugged. “It’s a feeling, like comfort or understanding. It just is.”
Doc narrowed his eyes, clearly thinking about how to phrase whatever had crossed his mind. “Why do you suppose this ‘friendship’ developed so quickly?”
“Circumstances pushed us together. I’ve been helping her until her father recovers.”
“So she’s dependent on you.”
“No.” Jackson shook his head. “Gabby can stand on her own, but I want to help.”
“And sex is helping?” Doc’s eyes twinkled above a goofy grin.
“In a manner of speaking.” Jackson laughed.
“Naturally.” Doc chuckled. “Although that’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
“Talk to me about this ‘feeling’ of connectedness. Why do you think it exists?”
Jackson rested his elbows on his knees while staring over Doc’s shoulder, thinking. “Openness comes easily to her. When I’m with her, it’s like her honesty taps into some hidden part of me. I feel safe sharing stuff with her that I haven’t been able to share with others. She’s not the kind of girl who’ll bail or betray me, either.”
“Yet you will be ‘bailing’ in a few weeks.”
Jackson stared at his feet while the gloomy reality settled around him, choking him like a room full of smoke.
When he made no reply, Doc cleared his throat. “Jackson, is it possible you’ve allowed yourself to confide in this woman because you know that it has to end?”
“No.” Jackson sat back and crossed his arms.
“Think about it. This girl can’t disappoint you because you won’t be sticking around long enough to let her. It could be that her temporary status, not some mystical bond, makes her safe.”
“No way.” When Doc failed to look convinced, Jackson pressed the point. “I’m telling you, I didn’t go looking for a confidant—that’s your job. But as soon as I met her, I knew she was different. I tried to resist, but I can’t walk away when being around her makes me happy. We’re both adults. We know the facts. I haven’t withheld the truth about my problems. But last night we decided to spend what time we have together, and then whatever happens, happens.”
“Which brings me to my initial concern. Three or four weeks from now, when you’re back in Connecticut working through your business and personal issues, how will you handle missing her and this newfound closeness?”
“People have long-distance friends and relationships.” Jackson squirmed on the sofa. “Vermont isn’t thousands of miles away.”
“For the sake of argument, let’s assume you want to and should get involved in a romantic relationship. Choosing a geographically undesirable woman doesn’t seem like the best move, does it?”
“What I want is for people to stop looking at me like I’ve got a major drinking problem. I want to leave my bitterness here,” he said, gesturing around the room, “and return to my family and business, and get on with my life. Gabby’s a co
mpletely unexpected complication, but I’m not sorry, and I don’t want to put the brakes on.”
“Even if being with her puts you at higher risk for slipping back into alcohol abuse?”
Jackson wished he could deny it all. The abuse label, the idea of Gabby hurting him, this whole conversation, really. But he’d always understood the risk. Problem now was, he didn’t care. “I’m not asking for your permission. I’m only telling you because I’m trying to be honest.”
Doc shook his head. “I’d rather see you focus on your other goals. Let’s talk about those. Have you given more thought to inviting your family to a group session?”
“Yes. Let’s do it. I want to get to the truth of the stuff between David and my dad.”
“Oh?” Doc’s amused expression warned of an oncoming question. “Not the stuff between David and you?”
“Their situation is the problem between my brother and me. Whatever happened between those two changed everything. And it’s still going on. I feel it, and my gut’s rarely wrong. I can’t pretend to be a big happy family, or to trust my brother, if they keep this secret.”
Doc raised a questioning hand. “Some might argue their secret’s none of your business.”
“Now you sound like my sister.” Jackson crossed his arms. “Anything so bad it forced David to move halfway around the world for eighteen months and have so little contact with Cat and me must have something to do with us. If David wants my trust, then he should give me his.”
Doc scribbled something on his notepad as he replied, “I guess we’ll see what happens if he and your dad agree to come. Would you like me to contact them, or do you want to handle that?”
“I’ll arrange it.”
Doc set his pad aside and tipped his head a bit. “And what about Alison?”
Jackson’s eyes widened. “What about her?”
“You need closure there, too.”
“No chance.” Jackson’s body grew hot. “I wanted to marry her and raise our baby, but she spat in my face and took it all away without a second thought. How could there be closure? It’s over. The baby’s gone.”
Doc stared at Jackson until he stopped fidgeting. When he finally responded, he did so slowly. “Are you upset because she made the decision without you, or because she didn’t want to be a mother and your wife?”
“Both.” Jackson fought that old beast—betrayal—from taking over by focusing on his breathing, but his pulse had its own ideas.
“Given her disinterest, she didn’t have many alternatives.”
Leaning forward, Jackson thrust one hand upward. “Couldn’t she at least have considered having the baby and letting me raise it?”
“Do you really think she should’ve borne the health risks and other adjustments of pregnancy just to make you happy?”
Jackson stood and began pacing. “Not ‘just to make me happy.’ There was a life—a future life—at stake, too. I know it was a lot to ask, but plenty of women who aren’t ready to be mothers have the kids and give them up for adoption. If Alison ever cared about me, she could’ve at least taken a week or two to think about it before she got rid of our child like yesterday’s garbage. And I’m not taking a political stance or saying women shouldn’t have choices. I simply hate that Alison made that choice about our child. It’s completely personal.”
He stopped and stared out the big window. The crystal threw no rainbows around the room today thanks to a flat, gray sky. Gray to match the unexpected burst of sorrow that swamped him.
Doc narrowed his eyes and hesitated. “I can empathize, Jackson. But given your trust issues, maybe the fact that you put your faith in a woman who wasn’t who you thought she was is why you can’t get over the past.”
“No.” Jackson frowned, beginning to crumble under the weight of the thirty-minute self-examination. Was Doc right? Was Jackson disgusted with himself instead of Alison?
“It’s worth considering, especially given your feelings about your siblings and Hank. In each case, you’re hurt because they did something without considering the impact on you, and you perceive that as disloyalty.”
“And?” Jackson shrugged, not understanding Doc’s point.
“And yet, you don’t apply that logic to your own behavior.”
“What the hell have I done wrong?” Jackson’s chin jerked back.
“Excessive drinking, random sex with women who may have cared more for you than you did them, refusing to let your brother make amends—aren’t those all examples of your needs coming ahead of others?”
Jackson’s defenses awakened, causing him to twitch. He plopped himself back onto the sofa. “You’re twisting it all around.”
“Why? Because unlike them you had justifiable reasons to be selfish and reckless?” Doc cocked a brow. “Is that it?”
“Hard to say, since they never really shared their reasons.” Jackson resented Doc’s misguided attempt to force him to shoulder the blame. “Besides, nothing I did hurt them.”
“Really? Your drinking obviously caused ongoing concern. Keeping your brother at arm’s length upsets him and puts your sister and dad in an uncomfortable situation. And your workplace altercation put your friend’s future at risk, right? All that suffering is a direct result of your response to disappointment.”
Jackson battled Doc’s logic, but it bound itself to his thoughts like a song refrain he couldn’t shake. Meanwhile, Doc kept staring at him with that damn patient look on his face. A look Jackson needed to escape.
“Listen, Doc, I’ve got a screamin’ headache now.” He rose off the sofa. “Let’s call it quits a little early. I’ll let you know when my family can make it up.”
“It’s your dime.” Doc stood and held out his hand. “I hope you’ll give some more thought to what we’ve discussed. If Gabby means something to you, don’t you owe it to her to be at your best before you get involved?”
Jackson wasn’t selfish when it came to Gabby. He’d done nothing but help her since he’d arrived. Any risk of pain arising from their new relationship had been assumed by both of them. Too tired to argue the point, he shook Doc’s hand and nodded without answering.
Of course Gabby deserved his best, but she didn’t seem to mind him a little bit broken, either. All he wanted now was to go to her and have her untangle the ugly knot of anger and confusion that had balled up in his lungs.
Gabby turned off the leaf blower when Jackson’s Jeep pulled into the driveway. It’d been sixteen hours since she’d left his bed. Sixteen hours of wondering what he’d been thinking all day, of tamping down the flutters that arose with each recollection of his touch, of plotting their next rendezvous.
“You’re home!” The words rushed out from a smile so enormous her cheeks hurt.
Jackson returned the smile, but then his faded, leaving her cold.
He glanced at the blower as he approached her, holding out his hand. “Hey, let me take care of that.”
Dumbly, she handed it to him while searching for any sign of the longing she’d battled all day. Didn’t he want to throw his arms around her and kiss her until the moon and stars lit the sky?
After an awkward hesitation, he gave her a quick, passionless kiss hello. “How was your day?”
Really?
“Awesome.” Gabby refused to play games or pretend like nothing had changed between them. If she only had a few weeks with Jackson, she’d be damned if she’d waste one second being nervous or awkward. “I spent most of my day thinking of you, so it flew by.”
At least her honesty cracked Jackson’s shell and forced a shocked laugh from him. Then his gaze warmed until her insides sizzled. He lowered his voice. “Now that I’m here, what do you plan to do with me?”
Gabby rose on her toes to whisper in his ear. “Naughty, wicked things.” Then she playfully withdrew. “But first, dinner. You’ll need a lot of energy.”
Again he smiled, though his eyes had that haunted look she’d noticed when they’d first met. “Gabby, I told my docto
r about us this morning. He thinks it’s a bad idea, mostly for me.”
“He thinks I’m bad for you?”
“No, it’s not you. He’s afraid I’ll start drinking when it ends.”
When it ends. Three words she didn’t want inside her head or her heart. She’d spent the day spinning scenarios where those words didn’t exist. Weekend visits, FaceTime, vacations: these options meant it didn’t have to end—at least, not in the next few weeks.
Then again, she hadn’t considered how the fallout could affect Jackson. Somehow she’d disregarded the real reason he’d come to Vermont. Perhaps it had been easy to ignore because nothing she’d seen of his behavior resembled anything she recognized as that of an addict.
Faced with his doctor’s concern, however, she couldn’t be so greedy. “I’d never want to jeopardize your recovery.”
He reached for her hand and brought it to his chest. When they stood this close, everything else faded away until her entire world centered on the stubble of his jaw, the heat of his body, the way his touch somehow reached beneath the surface and warmed her heart.
“The funny thing is, I don’t feel like I’m ‘in recovery’ when I’m with you.” Jackson brought her hand to his lips. “But some little voice in my head is buzzing around like a damn gnat. I’ve put a lot on hold to come here and figure stuff out, so it would suck to go home and backslide because I didn’t listen to good advice.”
Gabby pressed her lips together to try to keep herself from persuading him otherwise. She barely breathed while standing still, waiting, watching, hoping.
Jackson chuckled. “You look cute when you’re biting your tongue.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I can’t think of the right thing to say.”
“You don’t have to. The thing is,” Jackson said while he caressed her cheek, “I’ve never let someone else tell me how to live, and I don’t feel like starting now.”
Then he kissed her for real. Finally. She gripped his pullover, but refrained from climbing all over him.
When he eased away, he glanced at the house and said, “Not here, not now.”