APRIL
I'm not a liar by nature. Before I met Jackson, I never told anything but the truth. I never had the inclination; there was no reason to lie. But now, there's a bigger reason than I could've ever imagined.
"How long have you been here, Allie?" I snap, eyebrows lowering, trying to keep my panic mode under wraps. Alice can't see how worried I am, else she'll be suspicious.
She doesn't answer - she's crying too hard. This is how she gets when put on the spot, she breaks down. It's how I can be, too. We Kepner women are not taught to be strong, we're taught to bend to another's will. I never wanted to be the person Alice bent to.
"Allie, please," I say, trying to soften my tone. I feel Jackson's nervous presence in the doorway, hulking and hovering. After a glance over my shoulder, I kneel and wrap my arms around my sister in a tight hug. "I just need you to tell me how long you were standing there."
"Two - seconds!" she blubbers. "I saw - I saw the light on and - and you weren't anywhere else, so I thought you must - you must be here."
"Okay," I say, rubbing her back.
She didn't see us kissing or even worse, naked on the floor. That would've been the end of me, and definitely the end of Jackson. My father likes him as it stands, but if Alice had seen what we were doing and told him, Jackson's life would be in danger. Under the surface, my father is very old-fashioned, just like my mother. Just like I used to be, before Jackson taught me how to feel.
"Why weren't you in your bed?" she wails. "I tried to find you!"
I throw a look at Jackson before winding an arm around her shoulders and leading her back to the house. I mouth 'goodnight' and 'I'm sorry,' and he shakes his head and waves me along. He knows what I have to do. Still, though, I'm disheartened our goodbye was cut short. I'd been enjoying it so much.
"I left something in the shed earlier, and I needed it," I say, knowing the lie isn't all that great. I hope it will still hold up, though
"Oh."
"But you can't come running to me every time something happens. Mom and Dad are there, too. And Libby and Kim."
She gives me a disgusted look, lip raised and everything. "I don't want them," she says, then hugs my waist as we walk. "Only you."
I sigh and stroke her hair, wondering what to do. I can't have her clinging like this anymore, not with how I'm sneaking around. I can't have her on my trail, following me, possibly outing us. It's dangerous, but I don't know how to make her stop. I would never be cruel like our other sisters - I love her too much, and it's not in my nature.
"I just want you to try and learn a little independence," I say, treading water. "I'm not always gonna be around."
She jolts her head to look at me with wide eyes and a trembling lower lip. "Where are you going?" she asks, voice wavering. "Are you leaving? Are you going away? Sissy, don't go. I'll be good, I promise."
"Shhh, stop," I say, kissing her forehead as we sneak in through the mudroom. "I don't mean right now, today. Be quiet. Or else, Mom will wake up."
She clings to the fabric of my shirt, still worried. "You always said you were gonna live close by with Matthew when you grew up. And now you're not?!"
I take a deep breath and let it out with my eyes closed. "I'm tired, Alice," I say. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."
"But you said!" she insists, right on my heels as I try and disappear into my bedroom.
"I'll stay, alright?" I say, voice rising a bit. "You're not losing me, I'm not going anywhere."
Her shoulders relax a bit, tension fading slightly.
"Okay?" I say, knowing it's what she wants, what she needs, to hear.
She nods, then wipes her eyes. "Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"
I hesitate for a moment, knowing what's on my mind because of Jackson, and what I planned on trying, but ultimately shove all that aside. She needs me more.
"Sure," I say, then welcome her inside.
…
I don't sleep much. Partly because Alice has always been a bed hog, and partly because I can't get Jackson out of my head.
I only close my eyes for short bursts at a time, waking up once every hour to roll over or yank the covers back. Finally, at 5am - two hours before we have to be outside - I give up and give in.
I prop myself on an elbow and nudge Alice's shoulder. She's a heavy sleeper, though, so I have to jostle her to get any sort of reaction.
"Allie," I say. "Allie."
"Hmm."
"I'm going outside early," I whisper, through the cool darkness. "I'm gonna get a head start, because Mom is testing me today on literature."
"Uh-huh," she says.
"You have two more hours," I say, making sure she hears. "Okay? Don't get up and follow me."
She makes a cross face and tugs the quilt over her shoulders. "I'm sleeping, sissy," she grumbles, and rolls over further.
I smirk to myself, satisfied, and change into a pair of jeans and a blue crew neck sweatshirt. I put my hair in a loose braid, make my way downstairs for my barn boots, and notice Mom isn't even awake yet. If I get enough done, she'll be proud of me for being so proactive.
But I have to indulge a little first.
The gravel crunches under my shoes on the path to the shed; I'm too excited to walk slowly. I pick up the pace and trot until I get to the door, which I don't bother knocking on. I push my way inside to find Jackson in bed, sleeping, faced away from me.
I don't want to scare him, so I sing/whisper, "Jackson…"
He doesn't stir. I get closer after taking off my boots and peer around to his face, which is placid and calm - he doesn't even stir. Carefully and slowly, I set a hand on his bare upper arm to rouse him, and he jumps with fright almost instantly.
"Who - what the - who's there," he says, flipping over and rubbing his eyes.
"Just me," I say, stroking his skin. "Sorry."
"You scared the shit outta me," he says, words slurred and voice groggy. "W'time is it?"
"Early," I say. "Really early. Can I get in bed with you?"
"Mm, yeah, of course," he says, scooting over. "But if you think you're cuddling with jeans on… no, no way."
"What?" I say.
He shakes his head, eyelids still heavy. "Scratchy," he says.
"Oh," I say, and find a solution. I simply take them off and leave them in a pile on the floor, then climb over him with only a pair of light pink underwear on my lower half. "Cold," I say, shivering a bit and shrinking into myself.
"C'mere," he says, and wraps his sturdy arms around my shoulders to pull me close. He envelops us both in the covers, and I take a chance and wind my legs through his. "Jesus fuck, kitty, you're freezing."
"I know," I say, nestling my head beneath his chin. "That's why I have you."
He chuckles softly and holds me tighter, kissing my hair, which is all he can comfortably reach with his lips. "You cozy?" he asks.
"Mm-hmm," I say.
"Who knew you were so snuggly," he says, and I smile as the words come out.
"Now you do," I say.
"Guess so," he says, nodding.
"You're like a big teddy bear," I say, giggling at the comparison.
"Fuck that," he grumbles sleepily, which only makes me giggle harder. "Go to sleep, kitty."
"Alice was hogging my bed all night," I say. "And you didn't give me a goodbye kiss."
He adjusts slightly and pushes my hip so I roll onto my back, then opens his eyes. "Here, needy," he says, and holds my neck while pressing his lips to mine. "Now, will you go to bed?"
"Maybe," I whisper. "One more."
He smirks and shakes his head, then kisses me deeper than he had before. He strokes my cheekbone with his thumb and slips his tongue just slightly inside my mouth. He tastes like morning breath, but I don't care. Maybe I should, but it doesn't put me off at all. I wind my arms around his neck, rub my nose on his, and smile so wide it hurts.
"How am I supposed to sleep now," I whisper, reaching to trace his eyebrows.
"Like this," he says, and fully closes his eyes again. He holds my waist and I drag my fingernails over his arm, feeling his breath puff onto my neck from where his head is on my shoulder.
"Fine," I whisper, and turn on my side so we're face-to-face. Actually, it's more like his face is in my chest, but it's good enough. I throw an arm over his shoulders and, though I swore I wasn't tired anymore, I fall asleep stealing his warmth.
I open my eyes a little later to see he's already awake, eyes on me.
"Stop," I say, ducking my head to hide my face. "How long have you been staring?"
"Long enough to know you're fuckin' beautiful," he says, uncovering my face by tipping my chin up. "Morning."
"Morning," I say. "What time is it?"
He peers over my head to look at the clock. "6:30," he says.
I smile and pull myself closer, and he kisses me as I do. "We have a little time," I say.
"Wanna make out?" he murmurs, one hand sliding down to rest over my butt. My butt, which is only covered by my underwear, and that I can't believe he's touching. No one's ever laid hands on me like this.
"Make out?" I ask, never having heard the term before.
He smiles. "Like, kiss and touch each other and shit."
"Oh," I say, licking my bottom lip. "Then yeah."
He smirks and holds my face, then zeros in for a kiss. I smile against his mouth as he gets me closer, one hand spanning out over at least half of my back. I love how big he is - he makes me feel safe and protected.
He pushes himself to rest on his forearms and hovers above me, and I lose my breath as we make such close eye contact. He kisses the apple of my cheek and I scrunch my nose, winding my arms around his neck so he'll get closer.
"You smell good," he says, lips under my jaw.
My core tightens and throbs when he licks my throat, closing his lips around the skin in aggressive kisses.
"Like what?" I ask.
"Soap," he says. "And something sweet."
"You're something sweet," I say, cheesing and widening my thighs so he has a better place to rest. He lowers his hips between mine and kisses me again, and I try my best to slip my tongue into his mouth like he's done to me.
"Someone's getting brave," he says, skimming my ribcage with one hand.
"Was that okay?" I ask. "Was it bad?"
"Fuck no," he says. "It was great. Do it again."
I giggle and touch his face, then close my knees in on him. He gets a bit closer, and I feel something poking my inner thigh, and before I can think about it too hard, the words slip from my mouth.
"Is that your erection?" I ask, pulling away and watching his lips follow as I do.
"What?" he says.
My eyes flit lower. "It's poking me," I say. "Is that your penis?"
"Christ," he says. "Yeah. Sorry. I can… we can stop, it's just… it's hard not to, when you're… the way you are, and shit."
I laugh quietly. "We don't have to stop," I say. "I… like it."
"Yeah?" he says.
I nod. "I like knowing I made you feel that way."
"You definitely make me feel some type of way," he says, then covers one of my breasts with his hand.
"I do?" I ask.
"Mm-hmm," he says, and squeezes.
I arch my back closer and he moves to my throat, then lower to the dip between my collarbone and neck. He draws a line of kisses from there to the slight swell of my breast, then mischievously kisses my nipple through the fabric of my shirt.
"That feels good," I say, surprised. I know breasts and nipples are for nursing babies; I never knew they could be sexual. I didn't know attention could make them feel like this. "Is it supposed to?"
"Uh-huh," he says. "Can I show you? Lift up your shirt?"
I nod shakily, and he follows through. He pulls my shirt completely off and I'm left under him topless and bare, watching and waiting for what he'll do next.
As always, he surprises me. He opens his mouth wide and completely covers one breast, sucking it forcefully into his mouth while his tongue works in circles. I grunt and whine, holding tightly onto his head, and sink my blunt nails into his skin.
"Mm, Jackson," I moan, when he pulls away. Now, both nipples are hardened and stiff, pebbled and straining.
He licks the left one, long and slow, then sucks it into his mouth again. I watch him intently, thoroughly entranced, and see their coloring turn flushed from pale.
"Why do they do that?" I ask, as he peppers kisses from one side to the other. He sucks the smooth, soft skin into his mouth and leaves behind red marks, marks he's seemingly making on purpose.
"What, harden up?" he says, then reaches to pinch one between his thumb and first finger. While keeping his eyes on mine, he lowers again and laves his tongue over it, cheeks hollowing as he pulls it into his mouth.
"Yeah," I say.
"Blood rushes to them, I think," he says. "Kinda like a dick, maybe."
I snort with laughter at his clunky explanation. He's too distracted to give me much more.
I continue to watch as he makes those same red marks all over my chest, and light bruises even bloom with some.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"Shit," he says, looking alarmed. "Am I hurting you?"
"No," I say. "I just want to know what you're doing."
"Oh," he says, pressing a soft kiss to my sternum. "Giving you hickeys."
"Hickeys?" I repeat.
"Marking you up," he says, one hand slipping south. "Where no one can see but me."
He kisses the underside of my breast, and my eyelashes flutter while he traces circles around my bellybutton.
"Want me to get you off?" he says, and I assume he means what I think he does.
I nod fervently and say, "Yeah… yes, please."
With his mouth still on my breast, he slips his hand inside the front of my underwear and parts my folds to go inside. His erection prods me the whole time, which only encourages the situation as his fingers find their way deeper and deeper. After he abandons my chest, he picks his head up to watch me, and I don't get self-conscious with his eyes on my face - instead, I like it.
"That feels good, doesn't it, baby…" he says, voice low as his hand moves at a rapid pace.
"Yeah," I whine, back arched so it lifts completely off the mattress. "Really, really good."
Quickly, he rubs his thumb in circles over what must be my clit and sends me flying over the edge in a spiral. I can't control the way my body shakes and trembles, so violently I almost fall right off the bed. He keeps an arm around me, though, as he pulls his hand out, then sticks those fingers in his mouth to suck off what I must've done.
I don't bother asking why; I don't think we have enough time to get into it. I'm still trying to recover.
"Now I'm all… sticky," I say, situating my underwear. "I'll have to take a bath after chores."
"You're welcome for that," he says.
I nudge him playfully with my shoulder and sit up. "Shush," I say.
"Ooh," he says, then rests his chin on my shoulder from behind. "That's basically your way of telling me to shut the fuck up. I like it."
"I'd never say something like that," I quip, gently tapping his forehead with my knuckles.
"Someday, you might," he says, and kisses the side of my neck. "Bet you never thought you'd get fingered out in this shed, but…"
"Stop!" I say, thoroughly embarrassed. "We have to go now. My sisters will be out soon, and I don't want Alice asking any more questions about me being in here."
"I know, I know," he says, circling my waist with his strong arms.
"You're not doing a very good job of letting me up," I say, twisting a bit to look at him. I hold his jaw and kiss him, closing my eyes to relish the feeling. When we pull apart, our foreheads stay pressed together as we drink in each other's presence. I don't want to be let up, that's for sure, but I don't have a choice in the matter.
"Maybe 'cause I don't want you to go," he says, sliding one hand up my bare back to remind me how naked I am.
"I know," I say, then kiss him firmly before saying, "Mmm. I know."
"Just lock the door and we'll stay in here all day," he says.
He tightens his arms around the small of my back, which arches it towards him. He nudges my chin to kiss my neck, and I throw my head back so he has access to all the skin he wants. He gets to the open plane of my chest, using a hand to cup my breast and pull it towards his mouth, then tries to kiss it.
"We can't," I say, then regretfully push him away by the forehead. "No more."
He flops back, arms out wide to either side of him. "Ugh," he grunts.
"I know," I say, and stand up to redress. Once I have my clothes back on and my hair is back to a respectable state, I hear light sounds coming from the direction of the house. "I gotta get out there," I say.
"Alright," he says.
"You coming?"
He sits up, propped by both elbows. "I gotta take care of this," he says, nodding towards the evident bulge in his pants. "Since kitty cat over here likes to get me going, then leave me high and dry."
My face reddens and I clasp my hands together. "I… I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't know… I wasn't expecting, I should've…"
"I'm just fuckin' around," he says. "Go on, I got this. I'll be two seconds."
Relief floods through me as I wave and hurry out of the shed, given just enough time to make it look like I was in the barn instead.
It's begun to rain, which has started the creation of mud puddles and soggy grass around the barn. The horses are irritated because of it, and all the cats are inside. The chickens are hiding in their coop, but the ducks are surely enjoying it. Alice is, too, though I have to scold her not to play in the water. Mom doesn't like us getting dirty.
Jackson comes out a bit later and gets the hay down for the horses while I grab the basket and head to the birds. I'm hoping there's enough eggs to gather today, but I don't have time to wonder for long before being intercepted by Libby and Kimmie.
"Hey, Duckie," Libby says, standing just under the awning of the barn. "Where's your little boyfriend?"
"He's not my boyfriend," I say, frowning. "Excuse me. I need to collect the eggs."
"He never leaves your side," Kimmie says. "It's so sad. Maybe he needs glasses."
I'm confused now. How would they know something like that?
"He can see just fine," I say, stating the obvious.
"Clearly not," Libby says. "If he willingly spends time with someone as ugly and dirty as you are. Just look at you!"
I hold the basket against my chest, unable to respond. I've been free of them for a good handful of weeks - I hadn't seen this coming. I guess I should've; I'm overdue.
"She's right, just look at you," Kimmie says, walking closer. "Your scraggly hair, flat chest, all you are is bones. And your freckles… they're like a permanent layer of dirt." With the last words, she drags her thumb over my cheek roughly, then looks at it. "Sad, they won't come off."
"Please, just leave me alone," I mumble.
"Aw, she's sad," Kimmie says, lower lip out. "Libby, make her feel better."
"You're already dirty," Libby says, coming towards me. "Might as well go all out."
With that, she cements two strong hands on my shoulder blades and shoves me forward so I land face-first in a giant, soppy pile of mud. For a moment, I simply lie there and listen to them cackle before sitting up and wiping the mud from my eyes.
"Look at her!" Kimmie shrieks, barely able to catch her breath. "Little Duckie playing in the mud! Aw, so cute. I wish we had a camera."
Libby feigns the picture-taking motion and makes the sound effect to go with it. "Aren't you gonna get up?" she asks. "Or are you gonna play in it, like a little pig?"
"What the fuck's going on?" I hear, and Jackson turns up out of nowhere. I stare him from where I sit, half reclined in the mud with rain pouring down on me, absolutely drenched and filthy. "Jesus, what happened to you?" he says, hurrying into the rain without hesitation and extending a hand. I take it and he pulls me up, then out of the rain.
I don't answer. I can't, not with Libby and Kimmie staring me down.
"The poor thing fell," Libby says. "We were about to help her, but then you showed up."
"Yeah fuckin' right," Jackson says.
"It's true," Kimmie says, eyes wide and innocent. "Go tell Mom if you think she'll believe any differently."
"I need to get the eggs," I say, heading back into the rain.
"Come on," Jackson says. "They can wait."
"No, they can't," I say, and jolt him off.
I trudge through the downpour and collect what I can, then bring them back with a small cloth covering them. Looking down, my clothes are completely brown, along with the dirt caked on every surface of my skin. I'm a wreck. My mother will surely kill me.
"You can take a shower in the shed," Jackson offers, when I come through the barn.
"No," I say. "I can't."
"Why not?"
I turn my head to glance back at Libby and Kimmie, who are watching us out of earshot. "They'll tell," I say. "I have to go in the house."
"Fuck them!" he says. "I don't know why you don't stand up for yourself. Show them what's-"
"It's not like that," I say. "They'll win. They always do. Please, I don't need a lesson right now. I just want to go get washed up."
He looks at me for a long time, then gives in. "I'll walk you," he says.
I debate putting up a fight, but decide against it. When we go through the mudroom and head into the house, I stand in the doorway and wait to catch my mother's attention. It doesn't take long.
"Good Lord!" she shrills. "What in the world did you do to yourself, April Kepner?"
I set the basket of eggs on the counter and take off my dirty boots. Even my socks underneath are coated in mud.
"I fell," I say, meekly.
Jackson clears his throat loudly, obtrusively enough to catch Mom's attention before she diverts back to me. "You fell?" she says.
"So hard, it's like she was pushed," he mumbles.
"What have I told you about being more careful?" Mom snaps, harshly. "Today of all days. April, you're such an embarrassment sometimes. God give me strength to…" She trails off. "Go upstairs and take a bath. The Taylors are coming over for lunch, and all I'm trying to do is make this house presentable. And you come in looking like this... I can't be expected to continue to take care of you like a child. Do you understand?"
I've heard these words from her a million times before, but the ones that stick out are the Taylors are coming over for lunch.
"Yes, mom," I say.
"I won't have you tracking mud through this house, either. Strip down right there."
I move to the hem of my shirt, ready to lift it over my head, before I'm scolded again.
"Not in front of the boy!" Mom commands. "Give me strength. Jackson, you'll be joining us for lunch, so please get yourself cleaned up, too. April will come out and get you when it's time."
I feel Jackson's eyes, but there's no way I can look at him right now. All I can do is cower and wait for the next instruction until he leaves. He wants to say something so badly, I can practically hear the words forming in his mind, but he stays silent because that's what I asked him to do.
"Sure," he says, turning around to leave.
Once he goes, Mom returns to the kitchen and I shed my muddy clothes and walk through the house nearly naked. Immodesty is frowned upon, so Mom keeps her back turned as I put the clothes in the washer and head upstairs for a bath.
It takes a while to scrub off the dirt given the amount of water I'm allowed to use, and when I finally finish, I hear my sisters' voices gathering downstairs. I put on a nice dress and braid my hair tightly, then slip down the stairs in hopes to pass them without being noticed.
"Are you okay after your fall, Duckie?" Kimmie asks, her voice sickly-sweet.
Mom turns around for my answer, and Libby's eyes are on me, too. Alice sits at the table, staring at the wood, head down.
"I'm fine," I say, nearly a whisper.
"Your sisters were worried about you," Mom says.
"Thank you," I say, still just as quiet.
Mom nods curtly. "Go get the boy. The Taylors will be here soon."
"Yes, mom."
I put on my rain boots and find an umbrella, then head out through the storm. When I get to the shed, I find Jackson in dark jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. He looks nice, but the expression he's wearing is frustrated.
"Hi," I say, closing the umbrella and shedding my shoes.
"Hey."
"Are you okay?" I ask, padding over.
He looks up and takes me in for the first time. "You look nice," he says, eyes scanning the navy blue dress with a high collar and buttons.
"Thanks," I say, standing in front of him. "Are you mad?"
He nods tersely. I set my hands on his shoulders, but my touch does nothing to ease the tension.
"They can't treat you like that," he says, glancing up. "You can't keep letting them."
My gut sinks. I don't want to talk about this. He shouldn't have been there for what happened earlier in the mud. I didn't want him to see me like that, so weak; I didn't want him to see how much power my sisters have over me.
"They'll stop eventually," I say.
"When?" he says. "When will they stop? When they actually hurt you for real?" He shakes his head and stands. "The day I first got here, you had that cut on your cheek. I called you Shawshank. Remember? They did that to you, didn't they?"
My silence is all he needs.
"I fuckin' knew it," he says. "You can't just sit back and let them, April. You can't keep pussying out. That's why they keep doing it. Stand up once, and they'll stop."
"I can't!" I say, and cross my arms.
"Let me, then," he insists.
"No," I say. "Then, they'll know something is up between us. Please, just leave it alone. I know you're just… I've been dealing with them my whole life. It's really not-"
"That's what I fuckin' mean," he says. "Why should you have to?"
"I don't know!" I say, and charged air flows and crackles between us.
He sits back down, elbows on his knees, foot tapping. "And now, this Matthew bastard is coming over. Seriously? And I have to eat lunch with this guy?"
"We all have to," I say.
"Well, he and I already have beef," Jackson says.
I don't bother asking what that means, though I've never heard the phrase. I can use context clues just fine.
"He tries to piss all over you," he continues. "I'll get into another dick-swinging contest with him, I don't give a fuck. 'Cause I'll win, and he's stupider than I thought if he doesn't know that."
"Jackson," I say.
"What?" he snaps. "He thinks he owns you. It's so fucking gross. I fuckin' hate…" He clenches his fists, and it dawns on me. He's jealous.
Instead of calling attention to it, though, I find another way. "I don't have feelings for Matthew," I state, calmly.
"Yeah, well," he continues. "He thinks you do, and that's enough. For him, at least. He's so fuckin' sad."
"I don't have feelings for him," I say, shifting my weight to either foot. "Because I… because…" I take a deep breath and let it out. "I have feelings for you."
He freezes, and I wonder if I've said something wrong. Maybe I shouldn't have told him at all, maybe that's the furthest thing from what he wanted to hear.
"You do?" he asks.
I nod slowly, pressing my lips together. He opens his mouth to say something in response, but no words come. I can tell by the look on his face that he's never been presented with this type of situation before - neither have I.
"Shit," he says. "I… me, too. I have feelings for you, too."
He smiles, almost bashfully. It warms my heart from the inside.
"I like you," I whisper. "I don't like Matthew. Jackson, I like you."
He smiles again, that same boyish grin. My heart is beating so fast that I press one hand to my chest in attempts to calm it down, but of course that doesn't work.
"Do you like me, too?" I ask.
"Fuck, of course I do," he says, then comes over and wraps me in his arms. He holds my face and kisses me with purpose, holding my cheeks while pressing his lips to mine again and again. "Kitty," he says, still holding me. "Do you wanna be my girlfriend?"
My eyes widen and my lips part. I never thought I'd hear those words in a thousand years.
"Yes," I say, and my cheeks hurt I'm smiling so hard. "Yes, of course I do."
He twines his arms around my waist and pulls me close, grinning against my mouth as we kiss. "Thank god," he says. "I had no fuckin' idea what I was gonna do if you said no."
Interrupting our moment, the sound of wheels on gravel sounds from the driveway. Jackson and I make quick eye contact, and we both know who just pulled up. The Taylors are here.
"Ah, fuck," Jackson says, peering out the window.
I sigh and try to compose myself, taking a few deep breaths and closing my eyes. When I open them, Jackson is watching me.
"I really don't want this guy around," he grumbles.
"Jackson," I say, working up my gumption. "You're my boy. Not him."
I've never seen him smile in the way he does in that moment, eyes flooded with feeling, teeth glimmering. "Yeah," he says, and kisses my forehead while holding my shoulders.
We walk out of the shed together, but with a good distance between us, and see Matthew and his mother getting out of their truck. I wave to them and they wave back, then I paint on my best smile.
"No Cara today? Jim?" I ask. Cara is Matthew's little sister, and I like her company. She gets along well with Alice, and the three of us are good friends when put together. Jim is his father.
"They're at church," Matthew's mother, Deborah, says. "It's so good to see you, April. Aren't you just beautiful?"
I smile and let her hug me, then shoot Matthew a polite, yet removed, glance. "Hi," I say.
He nods and smiles just enough.
"And who might this strapping young man be?" Deb asks.
"This is Jackson," I say. I'd do anything to be able to introduce him as 'my boyfriend,' but obviously, that can't happen. "He's staying with us this summer. We're hosting him."
"How lovely," she says. "Will he be joining us for lunch?
Jackson answers her, but looks at Matthew when he says, "I sure will."
A little while later, the eight of us are sitting around the dining room table. Matthew is in Daddy's seat, after my mother insisted, and we're eating grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup. I've done my best not to make eye contact with Matthew the entire afternoon, and we haven't exchanged one-on-one conversation yet. My family doesn't tend to talk while we eat, which turns out to be a godsend. More than anything, I want time to speed up so the Taylors will leave. I know it's wrong to think that, but I still do.
I start to clean up the dishes after we finish, and Jackson jumps to help me. We clear everyone's plates and throw glances at each other, and I don't even think to wonder if Matthew is watching.
From the kitchen, as we load the dishwasher, I hear Kimmie speak up.
"You know, Matthew, you have competition around here," she says, and I perk up instantly.
"Oh, yeah?" he says, appeasing her.
"Yep," she says. "Duckie's got an adorable little crush on Jackson. You better not let her slip away."
"Kimberly," Mom scolds, and I grip the island from one room over.
I look at Jackson, and his eyes say enough. I set down the dish towel I'd been holding and go back into the dining room, where I stand in the entryway with full intent of telling her off. But all I do is hover, rooted to the spot, mouth open, eyes on my middle sister. She's so pleased with herself, having rendered me speechless yet again, and I know I've already lost. For the millionth time.
"April, dear, why don't you and Matthew take a walk?" Mom says, ever-so-sweetly.
The sweetness is fake, though, I know more than anyone she has ulterior motives. She heard what Kimmie said, too, and there will be no entertaining it. Me taking Matthew around our property is her silent promise to Deborah that yes, our courtship is still alive and yes, we will still be married one day. I will be April Taylor before long, and she has nothing to worry about.
"Yes, mom," I say. "I'll go tell Jackson-"
"Don't worry about the boy," she says. "We'll take care of him. You worry about Matthew. Have fun."
I nod obediently and he stands up from the table, towering over me as we make our way to the front door. When we're outside, just the two of us, the air is stagnant and more silent than ever.
"Did you enjoy your lunch?" I ask, holding my hands behind my back as we walk.
"Yes," he says. "Your mother is an excellent cook."
"Well, it was just grilled cheese and canned soup," I say, attempting a lighthearted tone.
"It was delicious," he says, not picking up on the humor at all.
"Right," I say, listening to the gravel under our shoes. I take us past the shed, through the barn, and walk along the border of the woods as he continues at my side without a word.
"Have you been well?" he finally asks, turning his head slightly.
I don't match his gaze. "Very well," I say, eyes on the grass. "And yourself?"
"No complaints," he says. "It was kind of your mother to invite us here today. I've missed seeing you on a regular basis."
"I know."
"You leave church so quickly these days," he says. "And… he's always with you."
"We're treating him as a part of our family this summer," I say, bristling.
"More so," he says. "What I mean is that he's always with you specifically."
"He's my responsibility," I say.
"Right," Matthew says, placid as ever. "But after what your sister said, I can't help but wonder."
"You know better than to listen to Kimmie," I say.
"That's true," he says.
We reach the edge of our property. The only way further is to go through the woods, which I've never been allowed to do. I look past Matthew and through them, though, and have the sudden urge to run into the trees and not look back. Just to see. I'd return eventually, but right now, I would do just about anything to get away from this situation.
"Everyone says we'll be married one day," he says, seemingly out of the blue. He meets my eyes when he says it, and my stomach drops in a very bad way.
I nod. It's not a lie, it's very much the truth. People do say that, or they have in the past. I don't remember the last time I heard it aloud, but it's definitely been indoctrinated into my brain.
"Yes, they do," I say.
"So, one day you'll be Mrs. Matthew Taylor," he says. "Have you thought much on that?"
I set my chin firmly and look at him firmer. "No," I state simply.
If he experiences a reaction, he doesn't show it. "Perhaps you should start," he says. "We're of age, and there's no reason it shouldn't happen soon."
"There's plenty of reason," I say.
"Like the boy?" he says. This is the most alive I've ever seen him. It's strange and a bit scary.
"No," I say, unwilling to budge on the subject.
Matthew takes a step closer. "Then kiss me," he says. "Kiss me, because one day you'll be my wife."
He leans close, and I turn my head so he brushes my cheek at best. He stumbles, misses his mark, and I extend an arm to keep him at bay.
"No, thank you," I say. "I'm not… I'm not ready for something like that."
He gives me a wounded, solemn look. One that should evoke pity from me, maybe even guilt, but does nothing of the sort.
"We should go back," I mutter, and lead the way without checking to see if he follows.
When we get to the house, everyone is on the front porch except for Jackson. My best guess is he's back at the shed, but I don't have the privilege of being able to think about him at the moment.
"That was a quick walk," Deb says.
"Did you two get some quality time alone?" Libby taunts.
I don't answer. I stand there with my shoulders hunched to my ears, and Matthew gravitates towards the truck.
"I have business to attend to back home," he says. "Mother, should we get going?"
"Is everything okay?" she asks.
"Fine," he snaps, and I take a few steps towards Alice, who embraces me. She can always sense when something isn't right.
"It was nice to catch up with you both," Mom says, ever the gracious host. "April, won't you say goodbye?"
"Goodbye, Matthew," I say, staring at my shoes.
"Goodbye, April," he says, and turns his back on me.
Once the truck has pulled down the road, I pry Alice's arms off and excuse myself. Luckily, they're caught up in their own conversations and don't notice when I leave or when I break into a run on the way to the shed.
I smell smoke before I get there and follow the scent. I go around the back and see Jackson standing there, one foot against the side of the little house, smoking a cigarette and blowing smoke high into the air.
"Oh," he says, noticing me. He blows a big smoke ring and puckers his lips. Without thinking, I stomp over, snatch the cigarette from his hand, and smash it with the toe of my boot.
"You're killing yourself," I growl, tears pricking the backs of my eyes.
"Jesus Christ," he says.
"You can't do that anymore," I say, fists clenched.
"Stop taking your anger at your arranged marriage out on my fuckin' cig," he says. "That was my last one."
"Good," I say, tears streaming.
"Kitty," he says, surrendering. "Hey, I'm sorry. Don't cry. What happened? Come here."
He extends his arms for a hug, but I turn away. "You smell like smoke," I say, half-sobbing.
"Duckie! Time for bible study!"
I hiccup and shoot him one last look. "I have to go," I say.
"Kitty," he calls, but I don't turn around. I need to be alone.
…
After bible study and supper, I'm alone in my room with pajamas on. I'm sitting near the window, watching the lights in the shed and doing my best to resist going out there. I should try and be better. God would want me to be better and stop lying. He would want me to try for Matthew, at least. Have I even tried?
I can't withstand the urges, though. I have to see Jackson.
I wait a couple hours until the sounds in the house stop. Until my mother shuts the master bedroom door, until the pages stop flipping in Alice's room, and the air is deathly still. Only then do I creep out of my bedroom and down to the mudroom, where I slip into my barn boots and go outside without a coat.
I knock on the door this time, afraid he might be upset with me from earlier. I don't know what I was doing, trying to seek solace in him for something he was upset over, too. I shouldn't have done that. I should learn to deal with things on my own.
"Jackson," I say.
"You don't have to knock."
When I push open the door, he's already standing near it with shoes on. "What are you doing?" I ask.
"I wanna take you somewhere," he says, extending a hand. "Will you come with me?"
I shake my head. "I can't leave," I say.
"We aren't," he says. "Do you trust me?"
After a long while, I answer his question by taking his hand and letting him lead me. We walk past the barn and the pasture, and I notice we're on the way to the woods when he speaks up.
"I'm sorry for being an ass earlier," he says. "I was pissed. Not at you, but I lashed out. It was fucked, and I'm stupid. I'm gonna try to… be better at that."
I nod to myself. "I shouldn't have bothered you," I say.
"You don't ever bother me," he says. "So, don't say that."
I smile softly and pick my head up, noticing how close we are to the treeline. "Are we going in there?" I ask, referencing the woods.
He nods.
"We can't," I say.
"Don't be a puss," he says. "I know where I'm going. I was there earlier today."
I keep my eyes on him for a long moment, then take a leap of faith and let him guide me in. The air is cooler, heavier and damp, but the feeling of being surrounded by trees is soothing. I never realized how quiet it is in here, yet full of life. It's a whole different world.
"Being with him today was awful," I say, after we've been walking for a few minutes. "He tried to kiss me."
"He what?" Jackson snaps.
"I turned him down," I say. "He got angry with me."
"Fuck him," Jackson says. "Seriously, he's a piece of shit and I hope he knows it."
"He was talking about how we'll be married," I say, then bite my lower lip. "I'm afraid of that."
"Afraid of having to marry that shithead?" he asks, and I nod. "That won't happen."
"You don't know the way things work around here," I say. "It will happen. When it comes down to it, I don't have a choice."
He looks at me, eyes set and determined while he says, "There's always a choice."
I don't have a response, because I'm too entranced by him and everything he is. I've never met someone else like Jackson Avery, and I'm certain in my small little life that I never will again.
"Here it is," he says, a few moments later.
I look forward and see we've come across a small pond. The water is dark because it's the middle of the night, but the moonlight casts an ethereal glow that makes it seem nothing short of magical.
"Isn't it cool?" he asks.
I nod. "It's beautiful," I say.
He drops my hand and quickly strips off his shirt, tossing it to the side to go for his pants. "I was hoping you'd swim with me," he says, stepping forward in his underwear, which soon come off, too, and I'm left staring at his naked butt.
I dart my eyes away quickly, but hear him laugh over his shoulder.
"Only suit I have is my birthday suit," he says, then wades in. I can't look up, but I hear the water move as he goes deeper. "The water's just fine, kitty."
When I lift my head, I see he's gone in just below his chest. He's wearing a warm, playful smile, and my stomach is jumping with excitement. He's seen everything of mine already, and I've never gone swimming before. I'm tempted, but so scared.
"I'm right here," he says, reading my mind. "It's fun, I promise."
"Are there fish?" I ask, taking baby steps closer to the water.
"Only one really big one," he says, then slaps his chest. "And you're lookin' at him."
I snort and cover my mouth, then take a deep breath. In one swift motion, my shirt comes off and I don't waste any time with my pants and underwear, either. Before long, I'm naked and tiptoeing into the water, which isn't as cold as I expected.
"Easy now, easy," Jackson says, eyes all over me.
He reaches his arms out when I'm in up to my thighs, then captures my waist to bring me deeper. I smile with surprise, loving the way the water feels all around my body, but loving the way his hands feel even more.
"This is amazing," I say, looking up at the sky where the moon acts as our spotlight. I'm beaming when I meet his eyes again, and he hasn't taken his off me.
"I thought you'd like it," he says, then kisses me.
I wind my arms around his neck and press my chest flush to his, and he rests his hands on the small of my back. We stand in the water and kiss for a while, opening our mouths and exploring each other while the crickets and owls sound from every direction. I've never felt so complete, so wholly alone with the one person who makes me feel alive.
"I can't believe you did this for me," I say, eyes shining.
He nods, gaze traveling between my mouth and my eyes. "I'd do a lot more for you," he says, tucking hair behind my ear.
I rest my head on his chest, and he drags his fingernails up and down my back slowly. His heartbeat pounds beneath my ear, and I close my eyes to solidify the moment. I'm sure nothing like this will happen to me again, and I want to take it all in.
"You know earlier," he says. "When you called me your boy."
I nod, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.
"Well, I just… I wanted you to know that uh, you're my girl. Not Matthew's, alright? No matter what he makes it seem like. And above everything, you belong to yourself. I don't know if anyone's ever told you that, but you're your own boss. You can own your shit. No one can tell you what to do, or how to act. There's a real world out there where you don't have to listen to anyone but yourself. It exists, and someday… I wanna show you."
I don't know if he means what he says. To him, this is a secluded vacation. Farm life isn't permanent. But for me, it's much more. It's my entire being - all I've ever known. Leaving seems as impossible as breathing under this crystal-clear water.
He's probably just talking. Right now, he might even mean it, but I know better than to put stock in something like that. I would never hold him to it. He has bigger and better things to worry about once he leaves.
So, instead of a verbal response, I kiss him. Slow and soft, wet and languid, I suck on his lips and massage his tongue with my own, and those actions give his hands permission to sneak lower and grip my butt tight.
We make out, as he called it, in the water for a while before returning to the shore and our clothes. We don't leave though, not yet. We lie there on the moss and stare at the stars, which he mentions once again are so much more plentiful than anything he's ever known.
I turn to look at his face, then gravitate to his side. He pulls me close and kisses my forehead, and I trace the tattoo I'd wondered about a while ago - the one he'd been sensitive about.
"Tell me about this," I whisper, continuously running my finger over it.
He's quiet for a long time. So long, I think he might be ignoring me, and I tell myself I should've just let it go. I shouldn't keep picking at things.
But he surprises me with an answer.
"Chicago's huge on gangs," he says. "They pretend they're not, but they are. And when you run in certain circles, I don't know. It starts to seem like a cool thing to do. They entice you. Your best friend's older brother, your big cousin, the dude from down the block… they're all in one. They're still cool, they still got their families. And even better, they got a whole crew to make sure nothing ever happens to them. On the surface, that seemed great. I mean, people didn't mess with me or anything, but I wanted it to stay that way. I figured if I didn't join a gang, shit would start. So, I did. I joined."
He pauses, hugs me tighter, almost like a security blanket. I stop touching the tattoo and place my palm on his bare stomach instead - he's wearing pants, but no shirt.
"At first, it was badass. Just like I thought. There were girls, booze, drugs… I only fucked with weed, though, no hard shit. The guys seemed cool, they hooked me up with a lot of stuff I'd never had before. That I never knew I could have. They started that tattoo with some homemade tools, and I thought I was the shit." He shakes his head. "Far from it. After a while, they started asking me to do stuff. Steal shit, got bigger and bigger. Lie to my mom, skip school; it was building, and I didn't even see it."
He takes a deep breath and blinks at the sky slowly. I don't say a word. I don't want him to stop.
"They wanted me to rob this old dude's house," he says. "Said he had a bunch of money hidden in the basement, and that after I got it, I had to shoot him. Kill him, because he was on the way out anyway, and we couldn't afford witnesses. I was out after that, that's why the tattoo's half-done… I flat-out said no. That's why we had to move. I haven't lived in Wicker Park since I was 10, that was a lie and I'm sorry. We moved from the south side just recently, because they're out for my fuckin' head. You can't just leave a gang like that. When my mom found out… I can barely remember, but she fuckin' hated me for being so stupid. For joining at all. Then, it was fucked up that what I did made us move. Getting out of there was the only option for me this summer. I had no choice. It was come here, or get shot. Basically."
He sighs, letting out a long, clean breath. Like this information is being cleansed from him, aired out and hung dry.
"I just couldn't do it," he says. "There was no reason. I saw how pointless it was. Those guys weren't my friends. It was all fake." He makes a small sound, almost like a chuckle. "Honestly, the only real thing I've ever known in my life is you."
I'm overwhelmed with this information - everything about it. He wouldn't be telling me all this if he wasn't serious about me; I know that much about his personality. And judging by that, maybe it's okay to give more of myself to him. See a future, imagine the possibilities. I shouldn't doubt him around every corner, or assume things I have no way of knowing. He is more complex than anyone else I've ever known.
"Kitty," he says, and I lift my eyes to look into his. "I've never fallen for someone like this before."
My heart stops, and my breath does too. Tears well in my eyes due to pure emotion coursing through me, and it takes a moment to return to my body.
I smirk a little, though, and kiss his shoulder while still looking in his eyes. When I pull away, I say, "I've never fallen for someone at all. Not before you."