Stay With Me

by Cross, Cassie

  “The short story he told you was getting published was something he encouraged me to submit, and I refused no matter how much he nagged me about it. He submitted it behind my back, and when I found out it had been accepted, I was terrified.”

  Jackson presses his lips together, his hands clenching into white-knuckled fists. “That asshole,” he grits out.

  I give him a grateful smile. “You can’t go back in time and kick his ass, but I do appreciate the desire.”

  “I’m sorry he did that to you. I wish you could’ve told me,” he says without accusation.

  “I wish I would have. Back then I felt…it was like something had been stolen from me and put on display without permission. I do tend to put a lot of my actual feelings into the situations I write about, but it’s really important to me that you understand that I wasn’t intentionally or consciously hiding anything from you.”

  He’s quiet for a minute or two. “Thank you for explaining,” he says, reaching out and taking my hand. I’m more than happy to let him hold it.

  “Were you ever going to ask me about it? At the time I thought you were just irritated by school stuff, but now I understand that it was much more than that.”

  “Honestly?”

  I let out a small, bitter laugh. “What’s the point of this if we’re not being honest? So far that’s only brought us years of misery.”

  “True,” he says, sliding his fingers across mine. His skin is warm and comforting, his touch sends a shiver of want down my spine. “I don’t know if I would’ve brought it up. I didn’t want to be one of those assholes who asked for more than you wanted to give. I like to think that I would have said something, but then we got into the accident and it didn’t seem to matter anymore.”

  The accident. Finally addressing the thing we’ve been skirting around since we got here sets my teeth on edge. I can only imagine what it does to Jackson.

  We’d gone to DC one Saturday morning to celebrate his parents’ 25th anniversary. They’d planned a huge party, pulled out all the stops. It was the beginning of the end of our last semester, and our plates were full. Jackson’s parents wanted us to stay the whole weekend, but he was stressed out and wanted to be at school so he could get some work finished.

  We went to the party, and headed home right after. We left later than we’d planned, and had the roads pretty much to ourselves. Avoiding construction work and an accident on 81 sent us to hilly, badly-lit two-lane backroads. Jackson had experience driving on them, but all the experience in the world doesn’t matter when a truck comes flying at you driving 65 miles an hour.

  It happened in a split second. One minute we were cresting a hill, the next we were wrapped around a tree trunk. Sometimes, on my worst nights, I still hear the sick crack of the windshield shattering and the groaning of the metal frame of the car as it bent around the tree.

  I walked away with a broken wrist, a concussion, a black eye and some scrapes and bruises. The left-hand side of Jackson’s body was completely destroyed. Broken arm, broken ribs, shattered leg, fractured pelvis. Not to mention his head injuries.

  It’s the most terrified I’ve ever been in my entire life, thinking he was dead beside me, begging him to breathe. I had panic attacks every time I got into a car for the next six months.

  I have no idea how Jackson manages it now.

  “Do you remember that night?” he asks.

  I nod, tears welling in my eyes the way they do whenever I think about it. “Yeah.”

  I could never forget.

  Jackson squares his shoulders, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I saw the headlights coming at us and I hit the brakes and swerved. The only thing I could think was, please let Birdie be okay. I saw the trees to our right and just…figured if the car could make it around, I would take the brunt of the impact and we’d be better off than being hit head on.”

  “Jackson,” I whisper. It’s the only word I can manage. That he got hurt to keep me safe rips a hole in my chest that makes me want to scream.

  I rest our entwined hands on my lap and place my free hand on top of his, offering what little comfort I can. I know reliving this and talking about the aftermath is difficult. We haven’t ever done that before, and it’s long past due.

  “I don’t remember the impact, which is probably for the best. I don’t remember a lot of what happened after, either. But I remember waking up for a few seconds. You were crying and holding my hand. It was the only part of my body that didn’t feel like it’d been broken into pieces. You kissed my knuckles, and your lips were so soft. I focused on that feeling.

  “You told me you loved me over and over. You said, ‘Stay with me, Jackson. Stay with me.’ I’d never wanted to do something so badly in my entire life.”

  His eyes fill up with tears, but he smiles through them.

  Mine fall, I can’t hold them back any longer. I can barely breathe past the lump in my throat, but I don’t want to break down. Not when Jackson’s finally opening up, and certainly not while he’s able to hold himself together.

  If he can do it, I can too.

  “I woke up I don’t know how many days later.”

  “Three,” I tell him, my voice completely shattered.

  “It was another few days before I was coherent, and there were times when I was just…” He drops his head, giving it a shake. “I was in agony. I felt helpless and angry, like my life was over. My mom was crying all the time, you were crying all the time, my dad just stood quietly in the corner while doctor after doctor filed in to tell me all the things I wasn’t going to be able to do anymore. The road ahead seemed impossible.”

  Jackson squeezes my hand and slides his thumb across my knuckles.

  “I wanted to die. I wished I had died. I was so…pissed at you for talking me out of it. On my worst days, I convinced myself that I hated you for it.”

  He looks up, his eyes full of shame, his lashes damp with tears. As difficult as this is for me to hear, I know it’s a thousand times worse for him to say it.

  I reach up and cup his cheek, needing to let him know that it’s okay. That I’m okay. He leans into my hand for a few seconds, closing his eyes.

  Then he sits up and takes a deep breath, clearing his throat before he begins again.

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about what a burden I was. On my parents. On you. I knew you would’ve stayed, because that’s the kind of person you are. I didn’t want to do that to you, and I thought I was losing you anyway. I figured the best thing for both of us would be to break up. The last thing I wanted to worry about was being an obligation, and holding you back.”

  “You were never an obligation to me, Jackson,” I say, putting every bit of feeling I can into it. “I would’ve stayed because I loved you.”

  “I know I broke your heart, and I know I can’t ever make that up to you,” he replies, looking at our clasped hands. “I’m so sorry that I hurt you. I still can’t help but think it was the best thing I could’ve done for us. I was so miserable. I made my parents miserable. I would’ve tied you down, and I would’ve made you miserable too.

  “It took me a long time to change my attitude. When I started going to physical therapy, I was laser-focused on my goals. I’d hit one milestone and move on to the next, I didn’t give a thought to anything else. Once I got to the point where I could move again, I focused on doing the things my doctors told me would be impossible. Proving them wrong was the only thing I had time for in my life.”

  “You’ve always been stubborn,” I say, attempting to lighten the mood. “It worked out for you for once.”

  He lets out a genuine laugh. “It was exhausting being that stubborn.”

  “I’m glad you were.”

  “Once I started feeling better—both mentally and physically—my anger toward you faded, and all I wanted was to have you back in my life. I missed you. I regretted letting you go.”

  He hadn’t fallen out of love with me, he didn’t decide all of a sudden that
our relationship wasn’t worth it. I knew he was hurting, but he wouldn’t let me in. I didn’t know how to get through to him then. He finally told me what I’ve wanted to hear for so long, but I’m left feeling sad instead of reassured.

  I wish he hadn’t had the opportunity to miss me. I wish I could’ve been a source of love and support for him while he was hurting. I wish none of this had happened to him at all.

  “I thought about getting in touch with you,” he continues. “I looked at your Facebook occasionally. Sometimes I’d ask one of the girls about you. Audrey texted me when you got your publishing deal. I even went to one of your singings. I took the train up to New York, and—”

  I’m breathless. My lungs have completely stopped working. “You did? I never saw you.”

  His smile is wistful. “I had all these ideas about what I was going to say to you. I had planned on asking you to dinner, to see if you’d let me explain…it was selfish. When I got to the bookstore, you were so happy. I knew seeing me would rattle you, and I didn’t want to do that to you. I stood in the back and watched you for a few minutes, then I bought a signed copy and left. I read it on the train home.”

  I wish I could tell him that he should’ve said something anyway, but he’s right. That would’ve rattled and distracted me.

  “I kept thinking about how different your life would’ve been if you’d stayed with me. You wouldn’t have had time to write, because you would’ve been helping me, and you would’ve been exhausted. I left feeling like I’d done the right thing. You’ve accomplished so much, Bird. I’m so proud of you.”

  I start crying, I can’t help myself. The anger and hurt that I’ve been holding onto all these years rushes out of me, leaving me feeling raw and totally in awe of Jackson.

  He pulls me in, holding me close. I wrap my arms around him, hugging him like I wish he would’ve let me all those years ago.

  “I miss you so much,” I tell him through my tears. He’s bared his heart, the very least I can do is bare mine. “I’m so sorry you were hurting. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to talk to you. When good things happened, when bad things happened. I wish I could’ve called you. I missed your laugh.”

  When Jackson and I broke up, I didn’t just lose my boyfriend. I lost my best friend.

  “I’m here now,” he whispers, his warm breath against my ear sending a shiver through me. “Feel free to make me laugh all you want.”

  I nod wordlessly, hanging onto him a little longer. When I pull away, his eyes are red and wet. I reach out and gently wipe away his tears. He caresses my cheeks with the backs of his fingers.

  We simply look at each other for a few tender moments before Sam interrupts with a wet-nosed nudge against my leg. He plops his paws on the swing and attempts to pull himself up before Jackson gives him a hand. Sam’s so excited to be sitting with us that he licks at our faces while we laugh.

  This gazebo holds so many special memories for Jackson and me. It’s fitting that this is where we finally worked out our issues. Sam rests his head on my lap and the three of us swing while the sun sets. I feel whole and happy in a way I haven’t since the night our car crashed.

  That alone makes this whole trip worthwhile.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jackson and I sit together at dinner. It’s a nice change from the tense gatherings we’ve had since we arrived. I’m relaxed and engaged, happy to be rid of all the relationship baggage I’ve been carrying around with me. That must be translating into my demeanor, because my friends are definitely noticing.

  Audrey keeps giving me these weird looks involving wide eyes and raised brows. I have no idea what she thinks she’s communicating, but she looks like a complete idiot. I laugh every time she makes a face. She seems frustrated that I’m not reacting to this however it is she wants me to, but the amusement is worth it.

  Apart from the good company, the food is phenomenal. Tonight the chef is doing a test run for the dinner service that’s planned for opening day. The meal is served family style, complete with roast lamb, locally sourced veggies, macaroni and cheese, and wine from a neighboring vineyard.

  Everything goes relatively smoothly with only a hitch or two. The staff is great, and the company of my friends is what’s been missing from my life since I moved to New York.

  It feels like my world has shifted back into place after being off-kilter for the past four years.

  Jackson and I are flirting, but trying to be discreet. I know other people are picking up on it, but they’re much less obvious about it than Audrey.

  I excuse myself to the ladies’ room before dessert, and I’m not surprised to see her waiting for me by the sink when I step out of the stall.

  “I like that you’ve given up even pretending like you’re here for anything other than getting the dirt on me and Jackson,” I say with a grin as I turn on the faucet and lather up my hands.

  “I think I’m pretty well known for being clear about my intentions.”

  I laugh. “That’s true. I’m surprised you’re the only one in here.” I lean back and glance at the door. “I saw the way you, Ayanna, and Miranda were looking at each other. You couldn’t be more obvious if you tried.”

  “As always, I was elected the dirt getter of the group. We have an agreement: I’m going to find out what’s going on between you two and then I’m going to report back later. We’re all very interested.”

  I toss my towel in the bin. “Yeah, I can tell.”

  “So, what’s up? I saw you guys in the gazebo before dinner. You looked pretty cozy.” Audrey’s about to burst out of her skin from excitement.

  “We talked.”

  She raises her brow.

  “We…set the record straight on some things.”

  “He told you about Trevor?”

  Not sure why, but that question surprises me. It really shouldn’t. “He told you about Trevor? When?”

  She shrugs. “Last month. I saw him here one weekend when he was working. I picked up a brush and helped him paint. We talked. He didn’t spill his guts, but he said a few things, and I can put two and two together.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It wasn’t my story to tell. Besides, I’m not even sure you would’ve believed it coming from me. You know I’ve always had a soft spot for you two, and I know you would’ve thought I was making excuses for him. There’s a reason why I told you on our way out here that you should tell him you still love him.”

  “I figured that was just because you don’t know how to mind your own business.”

  Audrey laughs. “To be fair, I’m not the only one in this group with a vested interest in you two working out your issues, especially since we all saw you kissing at Ruby’s last night. But, I am a hopeless romantic, and I’m sorry that I’ve been pushy. I’ve gotten wrapped up in all of us being together again, and maybe I’ve been trying to make it a permanent thing.”

  I sigh. “I don’t know if Jackson and I should get back together.” The thought of being with him is thrilling, but scary. And it’s risky, too. I managed to make it through our last breakup with all of my friendships intact, despite the distance. Who knows what would happen if things didn’t work out between us a second time.

  “Why not? You two lost four years, and now you have a chance to make up for that.”

  “I don’t even know if Jackson wants to get back together with me.”

  Audrey rolls her eyes. “Oh, he wants to.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “Well…no, but have you seen the way he looks at you?”

  “It’s probably because being here with you guys makes it easy to pretend like we’re back in college, like the breakup didn’t even happen. Maybe it’s just nostalgia that will fade away in the real world.”

  “Please tell me you don’t really believe that.”

  “He lives here, I live in New York. Clearing the air between us about something that happened a long time ago doesn’t mean we can just
pick up where we left off.”

  Audrey huffs. “C’mon, Birdie. Don’t be this dense. You’re a four-hour train ride away. It would be easy to make this work if you wanted to.”

  “I don’t know if I want to. I mean…I want to, but I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do.”

  Am I guarding my heart? Yeah, maybe, even though I desperately want to be reckless with it right now. Especially when Jackson smiles at me after I say something funny. Or when he scoops some roasted veggies onto my plate, leaving out the tomatoes because he knows I don’t like them.

  “I’m just trying not to get carried away,” I admit. With Jackson, it would be so, so easy to do that, and I don’t know if I could take losing him again. We finally worked things out, and it’s good between us now. Maybe we should just keep it that way.

  “You’re scared, I get it,” she says. “But I know you. You’re risk averse, and scared to take chances. But Birdie, the two times you’ve been willing to really put yourself out there have completely changed your life in the best ways. Maybe this will too.”

  I can’t argue with that. Moving to New York and finding an agent were the two biggest steps I’ve ever taken in my life despite being scared to death of failing. Those risks were worth it. Maybe this one will be too.

  Audrey reaches out and rests her hand on my arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m not trying to be annoying or nosy. I just love you so much, and I know you’ve been hurting. I see happiness right there for you, and I don’t want you to miss out on it just because you’re scared. Promise me you’ll think about it and make a decision on what you really want, not what you’re afraid of. If you do that and still don’t think it’s a good idea, I promise I’ll never mention it again. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I say with a sigh.

  “Okay.” She hooks her arm through mine. “We better get back in there. There will be a murder in this house if someone steals my mousse.”

  Chapter Twelve

  After dinner, our friends coincidentally disperse to attend to very urgent matters, leaving Jackson and me on our own. We’re standing on the back porch of the main house, looking out at the moonlight glimmering on the surface of the lake.