I Wish You Were Mine
Page 18
“Do you think Madison wants Jackson back?” Mollie blurted out.
“Thought we weren’t talking about her.”
“Kimmy.”
Her friend sighed. “Fine. I don’t know, babe. But if I know anything about your sister, I’m guessing that if she didn’t want him back before, she definitely does after that phone call. Did you really think there was any way she was going to let her hot little sister move in with her ex without some sort of ulterior motive?”
“She’s not like that,” Mollie said automatically, leaning against her friend so that her hair tangled with Kim’s black locks.
Kim kissed the side of her head. “She’s exactly like that.”
Mollie swallowed, knowing she should defend her sister. Once upon a time, she’d exhausted herself trying to make sure people understood Madison. But recently Mollie wasn’t even sure she understood her sister.
“Do you think I’m making a mistake?” Mollie asked her best friend. “Moving in with Jackson?”
Kim was uncharacteristically silent for a long moment. “I think you’re taking a risk.”
“Because he’s my former brother-in-law?”
Kim patted her knee. “That. And the fact that you used to be in love with him.”
There was that. There was definitely that.
Chapter 7
“You seriously didn’t have to hire movers,” Mollie said for the hundredth time as she watched two burly dudes easily maneuver yet another stack of boxes to Jackson’s guest room.
Jackson pointed at a barstool. “Sit. Relax. Want a beer?”
“No, I still need to unpack,” she muttered, reluctantly plopping onto the stool.
“Have a beer, Molls. Unpacking your nightstand contents isn’t like operating heavy machinery,” he said, going to the fridge and pulling out two beers.
“Clearly you don’t know what’s in my nightstand.”
Jackson lifted his eyebrows. “Exactly how big is your vibrator?”
“I meant I have like a zillion books.”
“Which are not breakable,” he said, handing her a beer. “And is that a no on the vibrator?”
She gave him a look as she took the bottle from his hand. “I just want to state for the record that I have moved several times, on my own, without the help of movers, and I could have done it again.”
“Moving yourself is for college kids. You’re an adult. Hire movers.”
“No, moving yourself is for people without extra income,” she said. “Snob.”
“So what was the plan?” he asked, tipping the bottle to his lips. “You were just going to maneuver all those big-ass boxes around with those skinny sticks you call arms?”
“Don’t be silly. I was going to hire some big beefy dudes from campus to help me. Perk of working at a university.”
Jackson was about to set his bottle on the counter but his hand froze, just for a second, and Mollie felt a sting of regret as she realized she’d inadvertently hit a nerve. Not so long ago, Jackson Burke had been absolutely the type of muscled guy friend who’d’ve been really helpful to have around on moving day. Her eyes flitted to his shoulder. Now he was the guy who wouldn’t be doing any heavy lifting for a long time. Maybe ever.
She looked away, her brain scrambling to come up with a quick subject change.
Only maybe that wasn’t what he needed—for people to dance around his injury like it was the elephant in the room. Physically, he was on the road to recovery. He needed to get there mentally as well.
“You said the other night that it didn’t hurt,” she said. “Was that a big macho man moment?”
He stared at the counter. “I’ve told you. It’s fine.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. Be a little more vague and manly.”
“Well, what do you want me to say, Molls?” he ground out. “That the pain wakes me up at night? That any motion more vigorous than brushing my teeth hurts like hell?”
“Are you going to physical therapy?” she asked, purposely ignoring the wounded-bear routine. That might scare off other people, but she was made of stronger stuff. Knew him better.
He looked away.
“Oh, Jackson.”
He shrugged. “What does it even matter? All the PT in the world isn’t going to help me play football again.”
“Well, gosh,” she said dramatically, “you may as well be dead.”
Jackson was in the process of taking a sip of beer and choked. “Jesus. You are such a smart-ass.”
“I’m just saying, you have a lot going for you,” she said, gentling her tone. “You don’t need a football in your hand or to help a girl move to be an amazing guy.”
“Yeah?” he said as he leaned on his forearms across the counter. “Want to tell me more about how I’m an amazing guy?”
If I did, I might never stop. Mollie cleared her throat. “Well, I would, but I’ve got to save up all my best compliments for my first-date script.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You’re dating?”
“Try to be a little more insulting,” she muttered.
“I just meant that I didn’t think there was anyone serious since that Shawn guy in grad school.”
Mollie was careful to hide her flinch. She told Jackson most things, but she’d never told him about that night. One did not ruin a marriage without proof, and Madison had sworn up and down that she’d only invited Shawn over to give him a don’t-mess-with-my-baby-sis talk.
“Thought we weren’t talking about her.”
“Kimmy.”
Her friend sighed. “Fine. I don’t know, babe. But if I know anything about your sister, I’m guessing that if she didn’t want him back before, she definitely does after that phone call. Did you really think there was any way she was going to let her hot little sister move in with her ex without some sort of ulterior motive?”
“She’s not like that,” Mollie said automatically, leaning against her friend so that her hair tangled with Kim’s black locks.
Kim kissed the side of her head. “She’s exactly like that.”
Mollie swallowed, knowing she should defend her sister. Once upon a time, she’d exhausted herself trying to make sure people understood Madison. But recently Mollie wasn’t even sure she understood her sister.
“Do you think I’m making a mistake?” Mollie asked her best friend. “Moving in with Jackson?”
Kim was uncharacteristically silent for a long moment. “I think you’re taking a risk.”
“Because he’s my former brother-in-law?”
Kim patted her knee. “That. And the fact that you used to be in love with him.”
There was that. There was definitely that.
Chapter 7
“You seriously didn’t have to hire movers,” Mollie said for the hundredth time as she watched two burly dudes easily maneuver yet another stack of boxes to Jackson’s guest room.
Jackson pointed at a barstool. “Sit. Relax. Want a beer?”
“No, I still need to unpack,” she muttered, reluctantly plopping onto the stool.
“Have a beer, Molls. Unpacking your nightstand contents isn’t like operating heavy machinery,” he said, going to the fridge and pulling out two beers.
“Clearly you don’t know what’s in my nightstand.”
Jackson lifted his eyebrows. “Exactly how big is your vibrator?”
“I meant I have like a zillion books.”
“Which are not breakable,” he said, handing her a beer. “And is that a no on the vibrator?”
She gave him a look as she took the bottle from his hand. “I just want to state for the record that I have moved several times, on my own, without the help of movers, and I could have done it again.”
“Moving yourself is for college kids. You’re an adult. Hire movers.”
“No, moving yourself is for people without extra income,” she said. “Snob.”
“So what was the plan?” he asked, tipping the bottle to his lips. “You were just going to maneuver all those big-ass boxes around with those skinny sticks you call arms?”
“Don’t be silly. I was going to hire some big beefy dudes from campus to help me. Perk of working at a university.”
Jackson was about to set his bottle on the counter but his hand froze, just for a second, and Mollie felt a sting of regret as she realized she’d inadvertently hit a nerve. Not so long ago, Jackson Burke had been absolutely the type of muscled guy friend who’d’ve been really helpful to have around on moving day. Her eyes flitted to his shoulder. Now he was the guy who wouldn’t be doing any heavy lifting for a long time. Maybe ever.
She looked away, her brain scrambling to come up with a quick subject change.
Only maybe that wasn’t what he needed—for people to dance around his injury like it was the elephant in the room. Physically, he was on the road to recovery. He needed to get there mentally as well.
“You said the other night that it didn’t hurt,” she said. “Was that a big macho man moment?”
He stared at the counter. “I’ve told you. It’s fine.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. Be a little more vague and manly.”
“Well, what do you want me to say, Molls?” he ground out. “That the pain wakes me up at night? That any motion more vigorous than brushing my teeth hurts like hell?”
“Are you going to physical therapy?” she asked, purposely ignoring the wounded-bear routine. That might scare off other people, but she was made of stronger stuff. Knew him better.
He looked away.
“Oh, Jackson.”
He shrugged. “What does it even matter? All the PT in the world isn’t going to help me play football again.”
“Well, gosh,” she said dramatically, “you may as well be dead.”
Jackson was in the process of taking a sip of beer and choked. “Jesus. You are such a smart-ass.”
“I’m just saying, you have a lot going for you,” she said, gentling her tone. “You don’t need a football in your hand or to help a girl move to be an amazing guy.”
“Yeah?” he said as he leaned on his forearms across the counter. “Want to tell me more about how I’m an amazing guy?”
If I did, I might never stop. Mollie cleared her throat. “Well, I would, but I’ve got to save up all my best compliments for my first-date script.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You’re dating?”
“Try to be a little more insulting,” she muttered.
“I just meant that I didn’t think there was anyone serious since that Shawn guy in grad school.”
Mollie was careful to hide her flinch. She told Jackson most things, but she’d never told him about that night. One did not ruin a marriage without proof, and Madison had sworn up and down that she’d only invited Shawn over to give him a don’t-mess-with-my-baby-sis talk.
