Page 60 of When the Sun Rises
The whole time I waited for Jackson to show up, nervous energy rumbled low inside me, and I couldn’t find a comfortable place to wait. There was no way I could have this conversation in the living room, even if the couch wasn’t so damn hard. Not with an actual visual reminder hanging on the wall of the man I used to be and the person that man loved more than life itself.
Sitting at the kitchen table was where I’d started, but I went fromdrumming my fingers on the wooden surface to rubbing my hand along it as I remembered just how thoroughly Jackson had taken me apart against it. I had to stand up, adjusting the erection that had grown from the images flashing in my head. This wasn’t a conversation I could have hard as fucking rock, which was how I found myself pacing back and forth, praying my dick would calm down, when Jackson showed up at the back door.
His eyes were full of a warmth that eased just a little of the uncertainty in me as he leaned in to kiss me. My hands found his face instantly, falling into the relief of being able to press my lips to his as our tongues slid against each other.
He tasted like mint toothpaste, and the hard press of his body against mine was everything I needed to soothe over the gnawing sensation I’d been nursing all day. Jackson’s hands found my hips, pulling me tight against him like there was an ache inside him too that was made worse by the inch of space between us. All too quickly, though, he was pulling away.
“Is this our new routine? Late night rendezvous after everyone else is tucked into bed?” He chuckled, pushing me further inside so he could shut the door.
For a moment, I considered losing myself in him one more time, to fall into an easy place where the worries and nagging feelings couldn’t touch either of us. But all it took was one thought of that hollowed out smile and those green-brown eyes filled with anything less than their blinding light, and I knew I couldn’t do it.
“Granger came to see me today, and as we were talking, he mentioned you’d been acting a little off. And I’d noticed it too,” I started, deciding it was better to jump right in rather than beat around the bush. “And when I really started thinking about it… I just wanted to make sure we were okay.”
“Of course we’re okay,” he responded easily, but I saw the way the warmth behind his eyes flickered.
“What’s going on, Jackson?” I whispered, not letting him brush me off when I could see the signs. “Talk to me.”
There was a split second where the look on Jackson’s face nearly made me crumple to my knees. It was pain. That same pain I’d seen the other night when I’d walked him out. But then he glanced away, smoothing out his features as he cleared his throat.
“There isn’t really anything to talk about. I—” He paused, sucking in a short breath as if to fortify himself. “I’m being unreasonable, and I know that. It’s just taking me a little bit to get over myself.”
“Get over what, though? You don’t need to be dealing with whatever this is alone,” I urged.
Jackson opened his mouth as if he were going to say something before shutting it once again. When he finally looked back at me, the hurt from before was written clearly on his face. “This isn’t just sex for you, is it? You… You want something with me, right?”
Pressure built behind my ribcage at his words, and I let out a broken sound. “What? Of course this isn’t just about sex for me. Where is this coming from?”
Instead of answering me, he took a step back, putting some space between us that made my stomach drop out from under me. “I just keep feeling like you’re holding back from me. And I know it’s going to take time for you. I swear I’m not trying to put pressure on you… I just haven’t felt right for a little bit, but I’ll get over it.”
“Why though? What brought this on?” I pressed, wanting nothing more than to pull him back into me.
Jackson chewed his lower lip before running both his hands through his hair. “You haven’t wanted me to stay over,” he muttered softly. “Why don’t you want me to stay?”
“It’s not that I don’t want you to…” I said slowly, truthfully, but the reality was a dagger ready to slice through us both if I let it go, and I was so fucking tired of bleeding. “You know I’m not a good sleeper, and I don’t want to keep you up or wake you too early. You have enough of that with Weston.”
Hazel eyes whipped to mine, and just with one look I knew he saw right through me. “Is that really the issue? You’re worried I won’t sleep well next to you?”
I desperately wanted to tell him yes. To let him believe that the biggest obstacle that laid between us was my inability to sleep through the night. But when I looked into his eyes, I saw the ever-changing seasons that blanketed this property, and all the birthdays and holidays we’d yet to celebrate together. I saw a future I’d never let myself picture before now swirling in those green-brown eyes, and I knew I couldn’t lie to him.
“It’s his bed, Jackson… The bed I shared with him.”
The words were like a sledgehammer to my heart, and they seemed to shatter just as much of me as they did him, and I fucking hated it. He shifted his jaw back and forth, sucking at his teeth as he tried to pick through the pieces of the wreckage left behind from the bomb I’d just dropped.
Seeing him like this tore at me like thorns raking across my skin in shallow cuts that burned and ached. All I wanted was to hold him. To let him know that even if there were pieces of my past I couldn’t let go, the future I wanted with him meant just as much to me now.
“I think I knew that,” Jackson finally whispered after a moment, his words soaked with every ounce of emotion he was holding back. He rolled his lips between his teeth, and when he lowered his eyes from mine, every shattered and broken piece of my heart screamed out. “So where do we go from here?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly, my voice barely audible.
Jackson started to pace, and if I’d been in any better state of mind, I might have poked at him slowly turning into me, but the heavy thump of my broken heart against my ribcage was too much to ignore. I watched him as he made fragmented patterns with his walking before he abruptly turned back to look at me. “Does it have to be?”
The question caught me off-guard, and my confusion must have been evident because Jackson followed it up with, “The bed. Does it have to be his bed? Can we not… I don’t know, think of it asyourbed?”
A slow creeping sensation of something unsettling built in mygut, like the shifting sand of an hourglass sinking below me. “I—I don’t know…”
“Can we try?” Jackson cut in, an edge of desperation to his voice that set off all sorts of alarms in my head. “You were hesitant about taking your wedding ring off, but we found a compromise, didn’t we?”
“That’s true,” I conceded, still not feeling on steady ground but wanting to alleviate this trepidation and doubt Jackson held.
