On My Knees

Page 102

“Yeah,” I admit. “I guess it is.” I frown, thinking about what they’ve said. About being used to bliss and not knowing how to handle a fuckup.
And the truth is, as mad as Jackson made me, at the end of the day, I have two choices. I can walk away. Or we can move forward.
I ended it once before, and it just about killed me. I can’t do that again. Not if I can put this relationship back together.
At the very least, I have to try.
I take a step toward the living room.
“Where are you going?”
“The marina,” I say. “I need to go see about a guy.”
“You don’t have to,” Jamie says.
“No. I really do.”
“I mean he just got here. He was walking toward the pool as I was coming up the stairs.”
“Oh.” My stomach turns over a few times. I want to see him, yes. But I thought I’d have a long drive to get myself ready. “Right. Here goes.”
With my friends wishing me luck, I head toward the open front door, then through the crush of people lingering near the threshold. I turn left, intending to take the stairs that go directly down to the pool, and end up walking right into him.
“Jackson!”
“How did you know?” he says. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt and a black mask, much like the Lone Ranger.
I can’t help but smile. “I’d know you anywhere.”
He reaches out as if to touch me, then pulls his hand away, and his tentativeness twists my heart. Yes, I think, it’s time to get past this.
“You didn’t wear the biker jacket,” I say.
“My heart wasn’t in it without my old lady.”
I swallow. “Yeah. Well.”
He points to the mask. “But I thought if it wasn’t actually me, then maybe we could talk. We need to talk, Syl.”
“You screwed up, Jackson,” I say, which is not what I was planning to say at all. But it popped out, and behind the black mask, I see his eyes go wide.
In for a penny and all that. I press ahead. “You screwed up, and you hurt me. A lot. You were so concerned about protecting me that you forgot to see me.”
“You’re right. You are.” He takes my arm and tugs me to the side, out of the flow of traffic. The touch is simple and innocent, and yet it is electric. It’s a connection. And god help me, I have missed it.
“I screwed up on a massive scale. And I’m goddamn terrified that I screwed up beyond all repair. I should never have gotten between you and your dad. I should never have taken that decision—that choice—out of your hands. I was so full up with my own shit about what a father should do to protect his child that I lost sight of the fact that the decision was yours. The choice was yours. I stole it, and I’m sorry.”
“Oh.”
I feel weirdly anticlimactic. He’s saying everything that I wanted to force him to admit.
“I love you, Syl. I love you, and I fucked up, and I will do whatever it takes for you to forgive me.”
I draw in a breath, then take a step back. “Come with me.”
I turn and head for Jamie’s condo, and I don’t look back to make sure he’s following. I pass through the crowd in the door, then glance toward the kitchen as I head for the two steps that lead up to the bedrooms. Nikki and Cass and the gang are gone, and that’s okay. I don’t need moral support anymore.
Right now, I know exactly what I need.
I try the door on the right, and breathe a sigh of relief to find it unlocked. I open it, and step inside.
Jackson enters right behind me, and I close the door, then lock it.
“You hurt me,” I say.
“I know.”
I press my lips together to fight back tears.
His back is against the door and he’s looking at me warily. “Are we okay? Syl, I need to know if we’re going to be okay.”
I hesitate. And then, very slowly, I nod. “Yes.”
For a moment, his face is simply blank. Then I see the relief flood it, so profound and powerful that it seems to propel him across the room. And then he is there, his arms around me and his mouth on mine.
The kiss is wild, hard. With teeth and tongues, as if we are trying to devour each other.
I pull away, gasping, then grab the hem of his T-shirt and pull it out of his jeans, then struggle with the button of his jeans.
“Here? Are you sure?”
“God, yes,” I say. “Please, Jackson. I need you inside me.” I need to feel his hands. His touch. I need that physical connection that is so rare and special between us.