Stay With Me

by Cross, Cassie

  “Weird how our friends keep disappearing, huh?”

  Jackson laughs. “You picked up on that too?”

  “I did. Do you think they planned this whole trip just to Parent Trap us?”

  “Well…not the whole trip.”

  A gentle breeze picks up, and I tuck my hair behind my ear to keep it from blowing in my face.

  “I can’t say I’m too upset about it,” I tell him.

  “Me neither.” He smiles and my heart flutters. “Since we have some free time on our hands, wanna go for a walk?”

  “Yeah,” I reply. “I’d like that.”

  I thought often about how this trip would go after I booked my plane ticket. I never imagined Jackson and I taking a late night stroll across the property would be a possibility. Now that it is, I can’t imagine just going back to my room. I can’t imagine being anywhere but here with him.

  “Which trail?” he asks.

  There’s the shorter one that hugs the lake, and a longer one that winds around the perimeter of the property, dipping down by the water at points along the south and east sides.

  I pick the longer one.

  “Let’s go this way,” I say, leading him down the steps to the walking path. I make out the happy grin on his face in the path lights.

  “So,” he begins. “Tell me about New York.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Anything. Everything.”

  “Well…I have an apartment.”

  He drops his head, looking at the ground as he huffs out a laugh. “That’s always a good start.”

  I smile. “It’s on the Upper West Side, in a building on a relatively quiet street. It’s a rental, but I got a pretty good deal on it. It’s definitely an upgrade from the studio I was sharing with three other girls when I first moved up there.”

  Jackson’s eyes are on me; his gaze has weight. Back when we were together, we hadn’t made a whole lot of plans for our future after graduation. New York wasn’t ever on the table. Moving there had been an impulsive decision, born from my need to get away from anything that reminded me of him.

  It didn’t work very well.

  Life has a way of making you remember people you’re desperate to forget.

  “There’s a park at the end of the street that runs right along the Hudson, where I go to write in the spring. There’s this community garden with these bright blooming flowers. Kids play and ride their bikes. I love it. The lady who lives next door is a pastry chef who owns a bakery in Midtown, and she uses me as a guinea pig for all her newest treats. I have a few friends that I brunch with, go to the movies with, things like that.”

  Jackson looks saddened by my description, like there’s something about my words that telegraph how lonely I get sometimes. “Are you happy there?”

  I purse my lips, giving the question time to settle so I can answer honestly.

  My work makes me happy, despite my recent writers’ block. I like living in New York. I’m happy, but I could probably be happier. Being around this group of people who know me better than anyone else makes me feel like maybe New York isn’t the place for me. Like maybe I belong back here, with them.

  “Yeah.” It’s not exactly a lie, but the answer feels wrong. “I’m happy. What about you? Tell me about your life.”

  “Well,” he says with a cute, playful grin. “I have an apartment.”

  I want to pull him off the trail until he stumbles on top of me and kiss him senseless. Somehow, I keep my composure. “That’s always a good start.”

  “There’s a dog park nearby and Sam loves it. His best friend Pepper lives a few blocks away. Pepper’s owner, Mark, travels a lot, so she stays over with us.”

  “Aw, you’re a surrogate dog dad,” I tease.

  Calling out Jackson’s soft spot for temporarily orphaned mutts makes him bashful.

  “Mark and I grab beers sometimes, we go to Nats games every once in a while. I see Audrey and M&M pretty often. Work is work, not much to talk about there.”

  I want to ask him if he’s considered going back to school so he can start doing what I know he loves, so he’d have something to say about it other than, ‘work is work.’ But it’s really none of my business, and most of all I don’t want to do anything to rock the boat right now. I like this new truce between us. I want to bask in it a while longer.

  “And you’re happy?”

  He gazes at me like I’m the answer to all his questions. “I could be happier.”

  It’s a look that makes my belly flip, makes me want to jump into a relationship with him headfirst. Tonight I’m remembering why I loved him so much, what made it so hard to let go of him. I have to remind myself that I struggled through years of heartache to get here, and there’s no guarantee that we won’t wind up hurting each other again.

  If there’s an again.

  Jackson’s reasons for ending things with me were understandable, but knowing there’s a good reason for your pain doesn’t make it hurt any less when you’re going through it. But like Audrey reminded me tonight, taking risks has led to unbelievable happiness in my life.

  Maybe risking my heart again would be worth it.

  I take a deep breath to refocus. Getting carried away only leads to bad decisions.

  “How are your parents?”

  I would’ve missed the slight disappointment on Jackson’s face if I didn’t know him so well. “They’re good.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “The accident was really hard on them. They argued about my treatment, argued about whichever one happened to be coddling me that day. Me being pissed off all the time took its toll on them. I took my toll on them.” His brows knit together in a worried line. I know this doesn’t sit well with him. “I still have my bad days, and…it’s difficult.”

  “Jackson, I’m sure they—”

  “It’s okay,” he replies quietly. “It wasn’t for a while. They actually separated for a couple of years. But they’re back together now. They’re actually vacationing in Aruba.”

  I let out an impressed whistle. “Jealous.”

  “I’m not,” he replies.

  He’s serious, and I’m…surprised. Happy. Unsure whether I should encourage his flirting, or distance myself and guard my heart.

  We keep walking and navigate to safer topics. He talks a bit more about his parents, and then asks after mine. I manage to get him to elaborate on his job, even though it’s like pulling teeth.

  When we come to a stop at my cabin, I’m not ready to say goodnight. It’s getting chilly, but we can’t go inside. Being in such close proximity to him has me feeling reckless, and if we go inside, I’ll ask him to stay.

  If we go inside, I’ll kiss him and never stop. I’ll remember the safe thrill of the weight of his body on top of mine. I’ll let him become a part of me again and I know I’ll never be able to let go.

  We sit down on the cabin’s steps, a safe zone. Crickets sing a tune in unison that could probably lull me to sleep if I let it. Neither one of us speaks for a minute or two, just enjoying each other’s company.

  “It’s nice talking to you again,” Jackson says, turning to look at me with earnest eyes. “I took it for granted when we were together, and I missed it when you were gone. You make everything brighter, and you could talk me down from anything. There are still days when I could really use that.”

  It’s an admission, not a request, and that makes me want to give him whatever he needs.

  “Do you have your phone?”

  He reaches into his pocket and fishes it out, then unlocks it before depositing it into my outstretched hand.

  I dismiss the low battery warning, giving him a judgmental side-eye for being so irresponsible. “You really have to get better about charging this thing.”

  “And not forgetting where I left it.”

  “That too. You should hook it to a chain fastened to your belt loop or something.” I press on his contacts icon, tap the little blue plus sign
in the top right corner, and type in my phone number.

  I hand it over. “When you need someone to talk you down, you can call me. You can call me even when you don’t.”

  He looks like I’ve just given him a precious gift.

  “Can I have yours?”

  I bite back my smile as I plop my phone into his hand, my fingertips brushing against his calluses. The inconvenient thought of what they’d feel like sliding across my skin makes me shiver.

  He types in his number and passes it back.

  “Everything feels right again.”

  I don’t disagree. “You were my best friend,” I tell him, blaming the two glasses of red I had at dinner for making me vulnerable. “Losing my boyfriend and my best friend at the same time…it was hard.”

  “I’m sorry I did that to you,” he replies. His voice is gravelly, his eyes sincere.

  “I’m sorry you were hurt.” I hook my arm through his and rest my head on his shoulder. “Sometimes I wished it’d been me instead.”

  With a deep inhale, he presses a kiss against the top of my head. “Don’t say that.”

  We sit together in the comfortable quiet.

  “This isn’t how I expected this trip to go,” he admits.

  I lift my head and turn toward him. “What were you expecting?”

  “Worst case? Shutting the doors on us forever. You never wanting to see me again. Slightly better case, I thought we’d work things out and maybe keep in touch.”

  “Was there a best case?”

  “Best case…best case seemed impossible, like something I shouldn’t hope for.” He reaches up and tenderly traces my cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. “Do you remember this cabin?”

  I turn around and get a good look at it, even though the lighting isn’t great. “No. Should I?”

  “We stayed in it one of the first times we came out here, right after we started dating.” His gaze is soft as he looks at me. “All of us were sharing a cabin, so you and I were huddled up together on a cot. The windows weren’t insulated for shit, and our blankets were thin.”

  “Oh,” I sigh. “I remember that weekend now. You had all sorts of ideas on how we could warm up.”

  Jackson ducks his head, barely hiding a mischievous, dirty grin.

  “Rain had muddied up the roads to the cabins so you had to park by the main house,” I continue. “You ran out to your car to get another sleeping bag so I would be warm.”

  “I’d do anything for you, Bird.” His voice is light with a hint of underlying seriousness.

  A sudden burst of nostalgic love for him hits me square in the chest.

  “You were always a great boyfriend, Jackson.” I playfully bump his shoulder. “That’s what made it so hard to try to stop loving you.”

  His body stiffens, his breath catches. “Did you manage to do it?”

  I wish I could say yes. If I could say yes, the rest of this is easy. We have a pleasant time, and we go home to different cities. We lead separate lives. We find happiness in the arms of other people, we wear gold bands they slip on our ring fingers in some distant, content future.

  There would be no fear of history repeating itself between us. Jackson Poole would never break my heart again, and in exchange for that security, I’d live a life that’s slightly dulled around the edges.

  Saying yes is tempting. It would be easy, but it would also result in an existence full of what-ifs, regrets, and second-place love.

  I don’t want that. I want Jackson.

  Maybe there’s a chance—if it all works out—that I’ll get to keep him.

  He’s hanging by a thread waiting for my answer, his eyes full of love. That love pierces right through me, shatters my remaining doubts into dust. The air between us crackles.

  I answer the best way I know how, by gripping his soft cotton shirt between my fingers and pulling him close. I press my lips against his. Unlike the kiss we shared at Ruby’s, this one is soft, sweet, perfect. It’s full of promise.

  When we break apart, we stay close, breathing each other in. He smells like soap and pine, the scent of so many of my happiest moments. I want to bury my head in his neck and breathe deep so I can remember them all.

  I pull back and look at Jackson, who looks like he wants to devour me.

  I bite my lip to keep myself from making some embarrassing, high-pitched noise that he’ll tease me about forever. I want him so badly, but sleeping with him tonight would be a mistake. We’ve had such an emotional day, I need a night to let things breathe.

  I’m dipping my toes in the water. If I jump in now, I’ll drown.

  “I should probably go inside,” I say, not making any effort whatsoever to actually do it.

  “Yeah. I should let Sam out.” He doesn’t move.

  He kisses me again, gentle and slow. Jackson always kissed me like he was savoring every second, committing it to memory. It’s nice to know that some things never change.

  “Jackson,” I breathe through a smile.

  “I like it when you say my name like that.”

  “Jackson, Jackson, Jackson.”

  He laughs as he kisses me again and again and again. I could get drunk on the sound.

  “I gotta get inside before this gets to be too much.”

  He hums, chasing my lips with another soft peck, reluctant to let me go.

  I finally find the strength to stand up. Jackson remains in place with his eyes closed, wearing a serene smile. I take a mental snapshot of this moment, and file it away to look at later, whenever things seem bleak.

  I reach out and skim my thumb across his brow. He looks a thousand pounds lighter than he did when I first arrived. How could anything that makes him look this beautiful be a mistake?

  I take a step up, willing myself inside. He catches my hand and kisses the back of it before he hoists himself up on his feet.

  “Do me a favor?” he asks, tangling our fingers together.

  “What is it?”

  “Come out with me tomorrow. I wanna take you somewhere.”

  I smile, probably looking like a lovesick teenager. He brings it out of me, I can’t help myself. “Okay.”

  “Wear your suit.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.” He grins, hops up on the second step and gives me one last kiss.

  “‘Night, Bird.”

  “‘Night, Jackson.”

  I float inside and flutter down onto the bed, touching my tingling lips and smiling up at the ceiling.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jackson’s truck still smells new. The bed’s a little worse for wear—he obviously uses it for work—but the inside is clean. That’s a welcome change from the car he had when we were together.

  “I know, I know,” he sighs as he clicks his seatbelt. “It’s not a mess anymore. Having stuff shoved wherever it would fit gave me anxiety. I didn’t want a hundred potential projectiles around me in case…”

  He trails off, understandably. It’s still a little weird to talk about the accident so casually.

  My eyes wander around the cab, taking in my surroundings. There’s a photo of Jackson and Sam taped to the dashboard, just above the vents. Jackson’s laughing and Sam’s tongue is hanging out, curving his mouth up in a smile. They both look happy.

  I tap on the corner of the pic. “This is cute.”

  Jackson’s whole demeanor shifts. “Yeah, well…he’s my boy.”

  I grin. He’s always loved that dog so much, which makes him even more stupidly attractive than he naturally is. “I’m glad you had him to keep you company.”

  Jackson pulls out of his parking spot and starts down the long driveway that leads to the main road. “Having Sam is what got me off of my ass in the first place. He was patient while I was healing. We started small. I’d toss him the ball, he’d bring it back. When he saw me moving around more, he followed me around the house with his leash in his mouth.” He lets out a soft, affectionate laugh that lights up his whole face. I want to kiss his smi
le.

  “That sounds like him. He’s always been such a good boy.”

  “Once I could make it down the street and back, he started pulling me around the block. Eventually we went for miles like we used to. He really eased me back into things.”

  I make a mental note to give Sam extra pets and a few treats when we get back to the B&B later.

  We settle into a comfortable silence as we drive down Dandelion Gap’s main drag, then take the backroads through wine country. The radio is a low hum in the background, tuned to a station that plays Top 40 hits from the early/mid-aughts. I catch the melody of one of the songs we used to be obsessed with, so I crank the volume and sing along. Badly.

  Jackson tilts his head back with a full-throated laugh when I screech through an impossible high note.

  I decide it’s my personal mission to always make him look and sound as happy as he is on this car ride to our unknown destination.

  We stop for lunch at a rickety old roadside cafe with chipped red siding and white-trimmed windows in desperate need of repainting. There’s a sign outside that promises the world’s best apple fritters, so we ask for a couple to go.

  We devour them in the car as we keep on driving. After a turn or two, a prickle of deja-vu makes its way up my spine. There’s something familiar about this place, but I can’t put my finger on it. I feel like I’ve been here before, but we’re approaching from a different direction. It’s like watching a movie in reverse.

  I recognize a dilapidated fence along the property line of a farm house just beyond a copse of trees in the distance.

  My heart beats faster, my breath catches.

  Jackson hears it. I see him looking over at me out of the corner of my eye. There’s a smile on my face, but that’s because I’m actively ignoring the part of me that’s terrified we’re moving too fast. It’s saying, Watch yourself, Birdie. This will all end in heartache for you.

  I turn the music up louder, drowning it out. I don’t want to hear from it again for another week, at least.

  We take a left down a well-worn dirt road, and a very bumpy minute later, we pull to a stop in front of the lake we used to disappear to when we wanted some alone time. The grass is overgrown, in need of mowing. I wonder how long it’s been since an actual human has been here.