THIS IS THE SAME EPILOGUE I POSTED ON UNDER THESE LIGHTS. If you have read that, you don't need to read this.
So this is for Donna who is awesome and has been betaing my other story, By Way of Sorrow.
There is one more after after this for those of you who are interested. This might be a little unexpected.
I own nothing and I love you so much for reading!
"Where are you going?"
The sleepy mumble makes me smile.
"Home," I reply, trying to get out of bed without further disturbing his slumber. I know from experience that if he falls back to sleep now I'll be able to sneak out easy as anything, but wake him anymore and the chances of me sleepin' in my own bed tonight drop down to about zero.
A sheet wraps around my ankle and I tumble off the bed, catching myself on my elbows. My lower half stays tangled up in bed while I keep my body still, trying to listen to see if I disturbed the snoozing boy in bed further.
"You okay?" he asks, voice nowhere near as sleepy as it was a moment ago.
"Aw, fuck," I mutter, kicking my ankle around until it's finally free. I slide the rest of the way out of bed and roll to lie on my back, collecting myself for a moment.
Although my eyes are closed, I hear him rustling around on the bed. He's peaking over the edge no doubt to check on me.
"You don't look like you're hurt too badly," he murmurs. "You are very pretty, all sprawled out on my carpet."
A slight smile tugs at my lips, but then I remember myself and I scowl again. I tug the cursed sheet from the bed and wrap it around my body, ignorin' his pout. He never likes me covered up, but the way he looks at my naked body just makes me feel that much more guilty.
"Have you seen my panties?" I ask primly.
Grinning down at me over the edge of the bed, he shakes his blond head at me and I just know he's lying.
"You've got to stop doing this," I scold.
"I really haven't seen them."
"A likely story, bucko."
"Seriously. I don't see them but when I find them I'll throw them in the wash and put them in your drawer."
This time, I don't even have to force myself to scowl at him. With as much dignity as I can manage, given that he's just screwed the coordination right out of me, I scramble to my feet and march over to the adjoining bathroom.
"Aw, come on, babe," he calls after me. "Don't be like that."
I whirl around, beyond frustrated and angry with this whole thing. At him, for wanting more, at me, for giving him way too much already.
"I don't have a drawer and don't call me babe," I yell. He sits up in bed, propped up on his elbows. Something about the position makes his already ridiculous arms and chest look that much more pleasing. "We're just sleeping together here, buddy. It's not a big deal. Stop trying to make it a big deal."
"God, you are such a brat."
And to that I can't do anything but gape in shock. With angry movements I collect my clothes from the floor and take up my march once more.
"Find my panties!" I demand as I slam the bathroom door behind me.
I wrap the sheet around me a little tighter and lean against the counter as I try to collect myself. This thing I'm doing here is just so beyond ridiculous but even after six months of screwing around with him I can't seem to find the self-control to stop. I thought I got enough of him in high school, but here I am, about to sneak back home in the middle of the night.
Seriously, what is wrong with me?
I pull my dress on over my head, not bothering with the bra. When I left my house earlier this evening, I looked so nice. It was supposed to be a girl's night out on the town, but I got bored of that scene real quick and found myself knocking on his door, as I do so often these days.
Now my makeup is sweated off leaving nothing but faint black smudges under my dark brown eyes. I frown at myself in the mirror and splash water on my face. It feels nice and makes me want to hop in the shower, His is so much fancier than mine and the water pressure is much better, but it's already so freakin' late and I have so freakin' much to do tomorrow.
There is absolutely nothing to be done about my messy, chin length hair so I reluctantly leave my little sanctuary.
He is sitting up by the headboard now, staring as if his gaze hasn't left the bathroom door since I went in there. His beautiful arms are crossed over his beautiful chest, and a slight frown mars that classically handsome face of his.
After everything that's happened, I can't really believe I'm back here again.
I consider storming out without so much as a "bye now," but this is a boy I've known my entire life and I can't stand to see him upset.
Against my better judgment, I move to sit back down on the bed next to him. Immediately he leans forward to rest his head against my shoulder. With a heavy sigh, I thread my fingers through his soft blond hair.
"This is it. No more. I mean it."
"Do you?" he murmurs, slightly amused now.
"Yes." I convince neither of us.
"You're so stubborn."
"I've told you a thousand times that it's just sex."
He sighs and wraps his arms around my waist. I can't help but hug him back, remembering when he was nothing but a skinny little blued eyed boy and damn, did I love him.
Always have, probably.
Damn it.
"And I've told you a thousand times how ridiculous that is. We've got history and ties. Nothing is going to be that simple with you and me. I don't want it that simple," he says.
Suddenly, I'm so tired.
"I have to go. I'm meeting people in…" I glance at the bedside clock, wincing when I see it's after three am. "In seven hours."
"Can I come?"
"Ha. No."
I try and pull away, but he holds firm.
"You're really going to sneak out of here in the middle of the night, aren't you?"
"Yes," I say, pouting slightly. It's so annoying, but I don't want to go anywhere.
"Fine."
He let's go and turns away. For one horrible moment I think he is just going to lie down and pretend I'm not here. He's not one to be cold, not like me, and it hurts my heart to see him turn away.
But then he pulls on a t-shirt and reaches for his jeans, bunched at the end of the bed.
"What are you doing?" I ask, confused. He always sleeps in the nude.
"I'm giving my lady a ride home," he says. "Do you really think I'm going to let your fine ass get on the light rail by yourself at three am? Come on."
"I'm not your lady," I mutter. This shouldn't be so surprising but it is.
He stands and digs around for his keys on his desk for a moment. I admire his lopping gait and the athletic lines of his body as he walks back over to me and pulls me to my feet.
Somewhere in my head he is still that scrawny little boy, and I'm always so surprised by his height. I'm tall, but damn. He's way tall. I'm not used to having to look up at anyone, but he's a freaking giant.
I like the way I fit right under his arm. He keeps me tucked into his side as we take the elevator down to the parking garage. I try not to swoon as he opens the passenger's door of his Subaru.
Who still does stuff like that? I mean, seriously.
The drive through the city to my neighborhood goes real quick. Sometimes it takes almost thirty minutes during the day with traffic, but we only see three other cars on the road. We don't speak, but I let him hold my hand as I look at the lights out the window.
When we get to my house, he actually parks. I try not to smile as he comes around the car to open the door for me once more. I let him hold my hand again as he walks me to the front door. No one remembered to leave the front light on for me, and the house is dark, it's other occupants all sleeping soundly.
I fumble with my keys but manage to get the lock undone. I pause before entering, hoping he's not going to try to talk his way inside.
"Thanks for the ride," I murmur, running a hand through my tangled copper hair.
He gives me a warm smile in return.
"Anything for my lady," he murmurs, pulling me into his chest for a hug.
"Jackson," I say with a groan, so tired of arguing with him about this. "Stop."
"Never ever," he murmurs, his hands moving up my sides to cradle my face. His stupid eyes make me feel dizzy as he brings his lips to mine. I let myself get lost for a moment, because despite everything else that is so wrong here, this one thing between us is perfection.
Absolute perfection.
"I am completely crazy about you, Ness," he says, lips hovering millimeters from mine. "And I'm just as stubborn. I'll wait you out."
I roll my eyes because he may be crazy about me now, but that wasn't always the case. The memory of how it made me feel then, is the reason for keeping him at a distance now.
Or tryin' too anyway.
"Goodnight, Jax."
"I'll see you tomorrow," he says, reluctantly letting me go.
"No you won't," I insist, shaking my head as I open my front door. "This was the last time, remember?"
Jackson's answering grin makes me swoon for real this time.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
"You look like shit."
I lift my head from a thick anatomy textbook to glare at my study buddy. Sam and I dated freshmen year, but are now forced to spend far too much time together being as we have all the same friends and we are in all the same classes.
Plus, we decided to get a house together this year with a couple other bio students. He's actually a pretty decent roommate, but things can still get awkward on occasion.
"When did you get home last night?" asks Heidi, another roommate. She's on the pre med track too.
"I don't even know, Heidi," I say with a shrug, reaching for my coffee. "It wasn't that late."
"Wait," says Sam, eyes narrowed. "Did you guys all go out last night? Girls night, wasn't it?"
I pretend to be deeply engrossed in my book.
"Nessie is seeing some older baseball player from her past or something," Heidi explains. "She's being awfully mysterious about him."
"Oh, really?" asks Sam, rounding on me. "How long has this been going on?"
"Sumer time," Heidi answers. I give her a shocked look, thinking she only found out recently. "You are no where near as sneaky as you think you are," she replies.
I sigh and slump down in my chair, looking out at the crowded library. It seems like every DU student is here on this gloriously sunny Saturday.
"So, is it serious? And he's a baseball player? Like the Rockies?" Sam asks. I can see thinking about getting tickets next season.
Stupid Jackson. Picking my city of all cities to launch his glorious professional baseball career.
"Really?" pissed at Heidi for opening her big mouth. "What happened to 'oh, I won't say a word, Nessie?' What happened to that?"
Heidi shrugs. "It got boring. And I want to meet him. Why won't you let us meet him?"
"He's not my boyfriend," I insist. "There is no reason for you to meet him. We aren't dating. He's just a family friend so we hang sometimes. I've known him my whole life. We were practically raised together."
Heidi doesn't look convinced. Sam looks like he's trying to figure something out.
"Wait," says my ex. "Is this Alice and Jasper's kid?"
I wince, forgetting that I introduced them when we dated. Suddenly I remember a whole bunch of other stuff I told him during that year we were together.
"It is, isn't it?" he continues, sounding annoyed now. "So this is the guy you lost your virginity to, right? The one that took off during the night and broke your heart?"
"I told you that in confidence!" I snap, blushing slightly.
"Yeah, well that confidence ended when our relationship did, my friend. I thought you hated this guy," he says, frowning.
I throw a highlighter at him. It bounces off his forehead and he laughs.
"I've never hated him," I reply. "I was just pissed. Things got weird for awhile at family functions, but we've known each other for forever and I got over it."
"Is that what you were doing until four am last night?" asks Heidi, smirking. "Getting over it?"
I grumble and cross my arms over my chest. "Y'all are a couple of asses, I tell you what."
"I love how she gets more Texas sounding when she's pissed," Sam tells Heidi.
"It's so cute," Heidi agrees.
"Can we just study," I demand, bending back over my book. "Need I remind you we have finals next week. I will not fail because you guys can't stop talking about a guy I was once into."
There is a brief pause as they follow my advice.
"So, can he get us tickets for opening day or what?"
"No touching," I remind him as we work our way through the terminal, making our way to the family that awaits us.
"No touching," he agrees, giving my ass a good spank.
"Jackson!" I shriek.
"Sorry," he manages through his chuckles. "Last one while we're in Texas. I swear."
"Good," I say trying not to pout.
It's going to be a long two weeks.
Except I'm never doing that again: This dude broke my heart once and I have no intention of letting him do it again.
"So, if there is no touching, does this mean I shouldn't mention what we did in the shower this morning at family dinner?" he asks casually, as if he really doesn't know the answer.
I turn bright red.
"Do not even joke about that," I say, horrified. "He may be your godfather, but my dad will murder you, Jackson. And they like him so much in Dillon, the whole town probably will let him get away with it."
"So you're saying you don't want me to be murdered?" he asks.
I send him a withering glare.
"That's progress, as far as I'm concerned," he says, sounding sad.
"Whoa, we are so not talking about that." There is nothing I hate quite as much as Jackson trying to talk about what happened between us four years ago, what with us doing it and him skippin' town immediately afterwards.
"I don't think you believe me when I say it's the biggest regret of my life," he murmurs.
I close my eyes for a moment as we walk, so totally not wanting to get into this. "So you've said."
"You could let me explain," Jackson continues in that same sad tone. "It might make us both feel better about it."
"Really, I'm over it. It was a long time ago and I know you're sorry."
"Well, I'm not over it," he mutters.
I don't look at him or reply. Why he thinks it's a good idea to ambush me with this now is beyond me. We move towards the escalator that will take us to baggage claim and my family, but Jackson grabs my hand at the last moment, pulling me off to the side.
"Wha—"His lips are on mine before I can get the word out. His fingers twirl into my hair and I can't stop myself from responding with equal fervor. I wrap my arms around his lean waist to steady myself, completely losing myself in the kiss.
It scares me, all I feel for this boy that turned into a man when I wasn't paying attention.
I'm breathing heavily and my skin is so hot by the time he finally lets me go. I try to take a step back, to clear my head, but he holds me in place, hands still tangled in my hair.
"It haunts me, Vanessa," he says. "What I did to you. If you'd let me, I'd tell you I love you. These next two weeks not touching you might be the most difficult of my life, with the exception of those months and months after I left you."
I shake my head, trying not to cry. "You fucking idiot," I mutter. "We have to go meet my parents now. What are you thinking, tellin' me all that?"
With a heavy sigh he lets me go. He takes a step back and I hate that he's so far away.
"You're right," he murmurs, studying his feet. "I'm sorry, but we've been doing this for months, Ness. Just… you have to talk to me. For real."
I nod because I owe him that much. God, I'm so confused. I knew I would be, the moment my mom told me he signed with the Rockies.
"Okay," I say. "We'll talk. I promise you a talk, but can we please just get through this holiday without causing any huge family drama?"
"No drama. I promise."
"Good."
I kiss him quickly. His answering smile makes my heart go wonky.
"You cut your hair," my mom says for the thousandth time since we got in the car to head home twenty minutes ago.
"Mom," I say with a groan as she pulls on the chin length ends of my bronze locks. "You've seen pictures: And we Skype once a week. This shouldn't be so damn shockin'."
"Listen to the mouth on you!" Mom continues. "Edward, do you hear the mouth on your daughter."
"Yeah, that's fuckin' undignified," says Dad from the front seat. He meets my eye in the rearview mirror as I have a good giggle. My mom sighs heavily but is unable to totally prevent the small smile from gracing her lips.
"I just think it makes you look like such a grown up, is all," says Mom, tears in her eyes.
"Don't you start that," I say, shaking her slightly. "I just got here. No crying. You can cry when I leave. If you cry I'm just going to cry and I hate crying."
"Oh, Vanessa. I missed you." She pulls me into her side and I cuddle closer. It's a little awkward being as I'm like sixteen feet taller than her, but she's my mama and I love her.
"I missed you too."
"I can't believe you only have two weeks."
"I'll be back in no time for spring break, Ma."
She huffs, dissatisfied by my answer but lets me sit up in my seat. I stare at the back of Jackson's head, fighting a ridiculous urge to run my fingers through his hair.
"Thank you so much for getting Nessie's ticket," Mom says. "It is just so convenient with y'all flying in together. Did she pay you back?"
I groan again.
"Of course she did, Bella," he says. "Right away."
"You really are a grown up," muses my mom, turning back to me. I just roll my eyes.
Jackson gets quizzed by both of my parents for the rest of the ride to Dillon. Mom asks him how he likes Colorado and relives her youth as she tells him about her old stomping grounds in Denver. Dad asks a thousand questions about baseball, all of which have been asked before. Then he starts ranting about what a great football player Jax coulda been. This inevitably leads to an argument about which sport is truly America's pastime before they start talking about the Cowboys playoff chances.
I let the familiarity of it soothe me. I might love my life in Colorado, but there is nothing quite like coming back home.
"So, Jax," my mom starts. I can tell just by her tone I'm not going to like whatever it is she wants to ask. He turns in his seat to look at her. "Are you dating any of those Colorado women?"
My eyes go wide and I pale as Jackson smirks. "Not at the moment," he says, diplomatically.
"No ones caught your eye?" my mom pushes.
Jackson glances at me. It seems somewhat involuntary, but I'll yell at him about being so damn obvious later.
"Aw, leave him alone, Bella," Dad says before Jax can answer. I relax slightly. Dad can always be counted on for a good subject change. "He's too polite to tell you he's enjoying the single life and the perks of bein' a professional athlete. Am I right, Jax?"
Although I manage to not let out an enraged huff, I cross my arms over my chest as I scowl at Jackson.
"Well," I snap. "Is he right, Jackson? You enjoying being a young, hot, professional athlete?"
My mom looks at me like I've lost my mind. I realize too late that I just called out the boy I've been boning hot in front of my parents, his godparents.
And Jackson has the nerve to fuckin' smirk at me.
"Something like that," he murmurs, turning around to face forward.
Mom is still looking at me as we pull off the highway onto the long, winding driveway that will lead us home. I drink up the familiar scenery and stop worrying about Jackson.
Mostly.
When I get out of the car I take a moment to just stare at the house my Daddy built. I was still pretty little when we moved from suburban Dillon out here where everything feels quiet and wonderful and just a little bit wild.
It's white with blue shutters, a huge wrap around neck, and a circular turret room that doesn't quite fit. That's my room. Dad built it because I wanted to feel like my room was in a castle.
I smile at the memory, feeling all warm and fuzzy.
A gust of chilly December wind makes me huddle in my jacket, but I close my eyes and listen to the chorus of tall blowing grass that stretches as far as the eye can see. The rolling hills looked like a sort of golden ocean to me when I was a kid. I used to just to sit on the porch and pretend I was floating.
"Anthony isn't driving down until Christmas Eve," Mom is telling Jackson as they ascend the front steps. "That damn bowl game is keeping him away for most of break."
"Go longhorns," says Dad, throwing an arm around my shoulder and walking me towards the house. "You bummed about missing the game?"
"Yeah," I say, feeling blue for a moment. "But I went to the last one and they really needed me to work."
"You work too much," he mutters.
"Med school won't pay for itself."
"We can help out."
"Oh, no. You've done plenty, thank you. I won't have any debt when I graduate from DU. That's pretty much a miracle," I remind him.
"Well, that's mostly thanks to your scholarships," he points out.
"Yeah, I am pretty awesome."
He rolls his eyes and holds the front door open for me.
"Where is everyone?" I ask, a little disturbed by the unnatural quiet.
"Masen's at football. He'll be home from practice pretty soon here. Coach will be with him. Rose and Em and the rest will be here in time for dinner," Mom says.
"I thought your grandpa retired from the whole coaching gig?" I ask, turning to Jackson.
"He did. I guess the QB coach quit and the boosters convinced Coach to come out of retirement for the season. Mom says he's loving it," Jackson replies. He dumps his duffle by the base of the stairs. I do the same.
I nod, thinking of my own dad. He stopped coaching when I was a sophomore in high school, but he is still crazy involved in the football program, despite his lowly status as music teacher only.
"I hate to do a big family dinner without your parents, Jackson," says Mom, frowning. "But we'll just do it again when they get here later in the week. That should be fine, right, Jax?"
"Right, Bella," he replies.
She gives him a side hug and drags me into it as well. "I'm just to happy that all my children are going to be under the same roof!" says Mom.
Jackson and I share an uncomfortable look because we are both included in this statement.
"Whose year is it to be team captains?" asks my dad as he tosses the football to me. We stand gathered in our backyard, preparing to take part in the traditional, post Church, pre dinner Christmas football throw down.
"Tommy and I are always team captain," I remind him. I shoot a grin at my cousin and fellow non-football player. He is Anthony's age and looks so much like his mom it's ridiculous. Really, he should consider going into modeling or something when he graduates college.
Every year the teams are pretty much the same. Anthony and Jackson are forbidden from being on the same team, given as they are both crazy good athletes. Dad and Uncle Emmett each go to different teams, as do Will and Masen. It keeps things pretty even.
Oh, and Coach is all time QB. One of these days he's gonna be too old to throw the football. I shudder to think what we'll do then. It'll be absolute chaos.
They all may be bigger and stronger than me, but they have to catch me first.
"That's a bullshit rule right here," Anthony shouts as he stretches. "Why do the two shittiest players get to pick?"
"Rude!" I chastise, fumbling a catch from Dad.
"You're just pissed because you lost last year," Masen reminds him.
"I've won the Rose Bowl," says Anthony, sounding like a total douchebag. Normally he's pretty good at keeping the whole football star thing from going to his head. This is not a shinning moment for my younger brother. "What do I care about some stupid, backyard two hand touch?"
We all have a good laugh at this. Anthony has been throwing fits about our Christmas football throw down since he could walk. It's some hysterical behavior that he's never showed once when playing in Austin.
"Alright," says Coach, sounding like his namesake. "Let's get this show on the road. Nessie, you pick first. Ladies choice."
I pick Anthony so Tommy get's Jackson. He picks Dad so I get Uncle Emmett. I pick Will so he gets Masen.
It's a damn good time.
We start off pretty serious and the younger guys stay way serious, but Uncle Emmett, Dad, Jax, and I get pretty goofy. Jasper and Rosalie cheer from the desk as each team only manages to score one touchdown in the first forty minutes of play.
At one point, Jackson can't quite get both hands on me for the down, so he just snags my wrist and pulls me off my feet, slinging me over his shoulder.
"Personal foul!" I yell through my giggles. "This is some holding right here!"
"Personal foul!" yells Anthony, actually pissed. "That's fifteen yards."
"Fifteen yards is half the field," says Coach. "Call it a down and let's keep playing. Dinner will be done soon."
With great reluctance, Jackson puts me down. I make no move to put space between our bodies as he smiles down at me. The look is so soft and tender I forget myself for a moment.
"You call that holding?" he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
I roll my eyes and shove him away.
Dad won't stop looking at me in a way that is slightly unsettling as we line up for the next play.
On Christmas I find myself next to Jackson, sitting in an oversized chair. I am too full and too drunk to move, so I don't really worry about the implications. No one in the family seems to really notice or care.
My brothers and our cousins sit at the kitchen, partaking in the loudest, most passionate game of Risk I've ever witnessed. Mom and Rose yelled at them about the yelling, but gave up hours ago in favor of letting them have their ridiculous, macho, aggressive fun.
Mom, Aunt Rose, and Esme sit on the floor at the coffee table, putting together a 1000 piece puzzle that seems to be 96% purple. Their focus baffles me. I am feeling so lazy it gets difficult to keep my eyes open.
Dad, Uncle Emmett, and Coach lounge on the couches behind them, taking up far too much space given that I'm folded into a corner of this far too small chair. They talk about football because they always talk about football.
Not that I mind. My roommates often complain that I too am guilty of always talking about the blessed sport.
Jasper's chair is parked right across from me, right by the roaring fire. Alice sits on his lap, sketching. He strokes her hair; it gets a little creepy for me because with each passing day his son looks a little more like him.
It's a scene so familiar I often closed my eyes and pictured it with perfect clarity when I was homesick my first few semesters away at school. A few faces are missing. Grandpa Charlie took his wife to Florida, but for the most part my whole family is here. These people have always been such a constant in my life. I hope there is never a year that we don't all make it to Dillon for Christmas.
I grin down into my hot whiskey, cradling the mug between my hands.
If it weren't for the infuriatingly appealing boy who is sitting so close I can feel the warmth of his body, I'd be totally and completely relaxed. Despite his sprawled out legs and the arm that rests just behind me on the back of the chair, he isn't touching me.
And that's good. He's following the rules. Plus, I should get used to him not touching me because one of these days I'm going to have to figure out how to stop fornicating with him, but I'm so warm and fuzzy and happy that it's hard to not want him to touch me.
"I overheard the lady folk whispering about us while they were preparing our Christmas feast," Jax murmurs, obviously wanting to keep this conversation private. Between the boys yelling, the jazzy Christmas music Dad put on in the background, and the pleasant crackle of the fire it seems as though everyone's attention is otherwise occupied.
"Ooh, was it gossip?" I ask, turning slightly towards him. One of my legs drops off the front of the chair while my other knee leans into his side. "I am so disconnected from what's what in this town. Was it about Masen? Last I heard he was dating Jacob Black's daughter, but he refuses to tell me anything about it."
"He's totally banging Kimmy Black," he whispers conspiratorially. "He told me this morning."
"Ew!" I cover my ears with my hands while scowling at him. "That's my baby brother we are talking about. That's disgusting. What is wrong with you? He's a child."
Jax snorts. "He's almost seventeen."
And now I'm thinking about what I was doing at seventeen which was Jackson, of course. Or that one time, at least.
"Please say our mothers were not discussing my baby brother's love life while preparing the meal to honor our Lord and Savior," I mutter, glancing around to make sure no one is listening. This is hardly a Christmas appropriate conversation.
"They were talking about us."
"What?"
"They were simply commenting that they are happy that we seem to be as close as we once were, like we were growing up," Jackson says, giving me a sad little smile.
We both go quiet, once more thinking about just what happened four years ago to make us lose this closeness. I loved him. He left. I refused to answer his calls and did a bad job faking normalcy when we had to see each other.
"Do they know?" I ask, hating him a little bit for putting a damper on my feel good mood.
"No," he murmurs. "They think I got distant when I went to college and they think we're friendly now that we're living in the same city."
"Well, they are at least a little bit right. It's that obvious, huh?"
"Is what obvious, baby?" I'm glad he's still whispering. My dad going on a murderous rampage would really put a damper in the whole holiday spirit.
My father has a reputation for being completely unreasonable when it comes to the opposite sex being in my general vicinity. Poor Sam met him only once while we were dating.
Worst. Dinner. Ever.
"That we're… closeish again?" I supply.
He grins like a lunatic and I curse myself for being so sloppy drunk as to admit such a thing.
"Guess so," he says with a shrug.
Resisting the urge to cuddle into his side is extremely difficult. I should probably put some space between us. Maybe walk around on the deck until I cool down.
I move to do just that when I get a scolding from Alice.
"Don't you dare move, little NC!" Her absurdly loud demand is enough to draw the attention of everyone, even distracting the boys from their quest for world domination.
"Uh…" I return to my former position, remaining seated. It seems damn important to Alice.
"Mom?" Jax asks, as amused as he is puzzled.
"It's perfect. You guys are ridiculous with your lankiness and your height. Seriously, this drawing is going to be all limbs," she replies, her charcoal pencil flying on the notebook open on Jasper's lap.
Dad is looking at me in that way again, but the rest of the family is used to Alice's insanity when it comes to sketching, and they go about their business.
It takes me longer than it should to realize that both my parents are staring. Dad has that little furrow between his eyebrows that is never a good sign. Mom just smiles like she has a secret.
I ignore them both.
"This is so lame," Anthony mutters as we watch Dad tee up an empty can. He takes way longer than is necessary and Anthony groans. He is decked out in a really weird outfit; plaid pants tucked into cowboys with a jean jacket and cat eye sunglasses.
"It is not," I say, letting my legs dangle from the bed of Dad's old truck where we sit and wait for our turn. "Drink your beer."
"You're a terrible influence. I'm only nineteen you know, and really I can't drink anymore beer until after the big game next week."
"You are totally ridiculous, you know that?"
"This body is a machine, Vanessie," he says, actually kissing his biceps.
I roll my eyes and shove him, but he barely seems to notice.
"I hate these things I'm so bad at this," Mom mutters under her breath as she marches up to our seat. "After nearly thirty years you'd think I'd show at least a little improvement."
We both move over so she can sit in the middle. Masen tees up next with an empty can of Coke.
"Thirty years?" Anthony says, gaping. "You've been coming here for thirty years? Ma, you are way old."
"It's twenty six, actually," Mom says, scowling at the middle child. "And is that a beer I see in your hand, Anthony Emmett?"
"No," he says, smirking as he brings the can to his mouth.
Mom sighs. She holds my hand and lays her head against Anthony's shoulder.
"I must be old," she whispers as Dad gives Masen a very serious golf lesson. The way the baby of the brood nods along and concentrates is pretty damn cute. It must be weird for him to be the only one left at home.
"Why, Ma?" Anthony asks.
"Because I have such old children," she says. "Look at you two: Away at college. One on track to be a doctor. The other one a football player. You know how that terrifies me, Anthony."
"Yes, Ma," he says with a sigh. He's been hearing the lecture on not tackling with his head down since peewee.
"You're not old," I say because I'm an awesome daughter. "You're like forty. It's kinda insane how much younger you are than most of my friends parents."
"I'm forty-four," she corrects.
Anthony whistles through his teeth. "Damn. That's ancient."
"Give me that," Mom says, snatching the beer from my brother. She hands it to me and I smirk at him while he scowls right back. "How did I give birth to such tall creatures?"
"Just lucky, I guess," I say. All the men in my family are taller than me, but all four of us tower over Mom. I'm thankful Dad gave me his genes on this one.
"Creatures?" asks Anthony.
"Who's next?" Dad asks as he and Masen mosey on over to us. "Masen has the record for the day."
Anthony and Masen high five, because as long as one of them is beating Dad it is a victory for both.
"Dad," I say, crossing my arms over my chest in defense to the wind. "It's freezing. You know I love it up here. I do, but it's December! This is getting absurd."
Dad opens his mouth to argue, but Mom saves the day my wrapping her arms around his waist. It never fails to gross me out, the way they're always touching, but at least this time she's using it for good.
"Nessie is right, Edward," she says. When Dad notices her shivers he holds her closer and rubs her back with his palms. "The sun is going down and the wind is picking up."
"Yeah, you wouldn't want to ruin our last night all together with one of us dying of frostbite," Masen says.
I roll my eyes at his dramatics but his statement genuinely upsets Mom who looks like she's about to start up the waterworks already.
"Don't do it," I warn.
"Aw, hell," says Anthony.
"Jeeze, Mom," Masen mutters, shaking his head in shame. "Get a grip."
"You could at least hold off till Anthony drives away tomorrow morning, Bella," Dad says, being a whole lot more gentle than the rest of us.
Mom's hysterics when one of her children leaves the nest have become somewhat legendary since she completely lost her shit when I moved to Colorado.
"I'm okay," she insists, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. "I'm okay. Let's go get picked up and then we'll go back for hot chocolate."
Dad smiles and kisses her temple.
"Can I have whiskey in mine?" asks Masen.
"No," Mom and Dad say in unison.
"Can I?" I ask as Masen pouts.
"Sure," says Dad.
Masen reaches out to flick my ear but I dodge him, running down the familiar steep embankment. It's a little treacherous, but I've been walking this path my entire life. Masen and Anthony are hot on my tails but they don't catch up until I slow to pick up cans.
They never do catch me. I'm the fastest.
"I forget how much your mom always cries at goodbyes," Jackson muses as we wait to board our flight back to Colorado and the real world.
"This one was a double whammy," I remind him. "Her daughter and her best friend leaving on the same day."
"Yup," Jax agrees, glancing at his watch. "It looks like my parent's flight took off about three minutes ago."
"So you are saying there is no chance of them happening upon us here?" I ask.
"What?" he asks, blinking at me. For a smart guy he can be pretty oblivious sometimes.
It was a very long two weeks.
I give him a pointed look until her gets it and when he finally does his whole face lights up, making him look like a little kid. Making him look like the little boy I've loved forever.
"Aw," he says, fingers moving through the hair at the back of my head. He pulls me a little closer. "You missed me touching you."
I snort. "Dream on. I just want to get our last time ever over with so I can finally put a stop to all this madness." My breath gets husky by the end of my rant because Jackson is narrowing in on my lips. My eyes flutter closed in anticipation, but then all at once he's gone.
I blink like an idiot, not understanding why he is now facing forward in his airport seat, scrolling through something on his phone.
"What in the world?" I mutter.
"You didn't miss me," he says with a shrug, "so we might as well just stop the madness now."
"But," I whine, stomping my foot a little. "I don't want too."
Jax turns the full wattage of his mega smile on me and I lose track of what we were talking about.
"And why is that, babe?"
"Because it was a long two weeks." My groan of frustration and annoyance is probably embarrassing, but he is just sittin' there looking so damn appealing and not touching me.
"And why was it a long week?" he asks, demanding I elaborate. His tone makes me figure out what he wants.
"Because I missed you, you son of a bitch," I admit through a clenched jaw. "And I don't appreciate you—"
The searing kiss he gives me should not come as such a shock but it takes me a second to realize what is happening and respond. I want to crawl over the metal armrest separating our bodies. He draws a breathy little moan from my chest and one of my hands comes to rest against the smooth column of his neck.
He kisses me and kisses me until some puke preteens yell at us to get a room.
I hide my blushing face in his shoulder. I feel the chuckle in his chest as he kisses my forehead and strokes my hair.
"I know I hurt you," he murmurs in my ear. My body tenses and it seems safest to keep my face hidden. "I'm going to do everything in my power to earn back your trust and I get why you are trying to hate me. I get that you're trying to protect yourself, but I'm not going anywhere, Vanessa."
I manage a slight nod, but still I don't look at him.
"I'm going to prove to you that we have something real here. Just try and let me, okay?"
Somehow I find the strength to pull back and look at him. "Okay," I whisper, feeling very small. "I'll stop trying to hate you and pretending I don't like you."
His answering smile makes the potential for heartbreak seem worth it, at least for this one moment.
I stop trying to hate Jackson, stop pretending I don't enjoy him, but nothing else changes and I avoid the talk I promised him at all costs.
I know it wasn't totally E and B focused, but I feel like their story was pretty much told. I was struggling to write something from their POV since last September, but it just wasn't happening.
Thank you so much for reading.
Next and last chapter will be up shortly!