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  Jackson listened.

  My hands fluttered above the quilt. “I know she’s an important person, but I'm important too.”

  “You are.”

  “It made me feel bad.”

  “I bet.” His expression was solemn.

  “And I feel bad about other stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  “You know.”

  He stood there for a long moment without speaking. “Tell me.”

  “The kiss,” I whispered.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told you, that was not your fault.”

  I blurted, “I feel bad because I liked it.”

  He put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath before blowing it out slowly. “Emily, you're going to hurt tomorrow.”

  “I already hurt.”

  I bolted to the toilet. Sometime in the middle of the night, I had taken off my blouse, and now I shivered in just my bra and panties, as I clung to the toilet bowl, and repeatedly spewed my guts.

  “Matt,” I called weakly. Then I barfed some more. I flushed the toilet. Acid burned my throat. Tears streaked down my face. “Matt.”

  The hallway light turned on, and then a figure in the doorway blocked out the light.

  “Matt?” I turned my face back into the toilet and retched some more. The night light went on in my bathroom. A soft glow flooded the room.

  “No, it’s Jackson.” Two big hands pulled my hair back, while my body worked to cleanse itself.

  “Can you go get him?” I gasped. He walked to the sink, wet a face cloth and crouched down beside me. I struggled to lift my head. He gently wiped my face.

  “Where is Matt?” I stammered.

  “He left.”

  My head jerked up. “Where did he go?”

  He shrugged. “I think he went out with some of the guys. I don’t know.”

  I wiped my nose. “I feel sick, and I threw up in my hair.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, I know.”

  “You don’t have to help me,” I said, wanting to cry. “This goes way beyond the call of duty.”

  He stood up, and I heard the shower door open. Water turned on.

  “Come on,” he said, “You’ll feel better after a shower.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll just stay here.”

  Two hands went under my arms, and he hauled me onto my feet. “In you get.”

  He pushed me into the walk-in shower. Clad in only my bra and panties, I staggered and clutched the wall, feeling incredibly dizzy.

  He stepped in behind me and reached around me to adjust the water temperature. He pushed me to stand beneath the warm water. I shut my eyes and let the water pour over me. His big hands slicked my hair back off my face.

  “Turn around,” he said.

  I faced him, my eyes still shut. Strong hands shampooed my hair before tilting my head to rinse. I dropped my forehead, leaning it against his chest. Strong arms wrapped around me. I sighed as I leaned against his warm, hard chest.

  “Do you feel better?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Come on,” he took my hand and led me out of the shower. I shivered, my arms crossed over myself. He wrapped a big towel around my shoulders and started to rub me dry. I trembled with cold.

  I stared at him in a fog. He was dripping wet. Rivulets of water ran down his huge chest. His drawstring fleece shorts were soaked and clung to his body.

  “Aren’t you cold?”

  “This isn’t cold,” his face was a mask of concentration as he rubbed first one arm dry and then the other. He turned me around, and roughly rubbed the towel over my back. Down one leg and then the other. Then the towel wrapped around my back.

  He disappeared into my bedroom and came back with a t-shirt and a pair of dry panties. “Can you manage this?”

  I nodded and waited for him to leave. On shaking legs, I pulled on the dry clothes. I brushed my teeth but was unable to look at my reflection in the mirror. I wondered how much Jackson hated his life right now?

  I staggered to my bed and looked down in horror.

  Chapter 16

  Jackson reappeared at the doorway of my bedroom. He had pulled on sweats, a t-shirt, and a worn baseball cap.

  My voice sounded sad. “I barfed on my quilt.”

  He walked over to stand beside me. “Just a little bit.”

  Tears choked me. “Why isn’t Matt here?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know.”

  He reached down to my bed and started stripping the duvet cover off the bed and then removed all the sheets from my bed. I was still a bit drunk. He carried the linen out of the room, and I heard the door of the washing machine slam shut.

  He walked back into the room. “Do you think you're going to be sick again?”

  “No. Sorry.” I covered my face. “I'm so sorry.”

  “Emily.”

  I sat on my bed. “Which guys did Matt go with?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did he say when he was going to be back?”

  “No.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Just after 0400.”

  “Don’t you think he should be back by now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  He crouched in front of me, his concerned face looking up at me. My smile trembled on my lips. “Thanks for your help. I can do the rest. You should go get some sleep.”

  “I don’t need much sleep.”

  I swallowed. “How come?”

  “It’s my job. When we are engaged, sometimes we are up for 48 hours straight.”

  “What does engaged mean?”

  “When we’re fighting.”

  I pulled in a deep, shuddery breath. “Do you have to shoot at people?”

  He lifted his hat on and off his head, and then he squinted up at me. “Sometimes.”

  “Oh,” I swallowed thinking. “I think your job sounds awful.”

  His laugh was short and low. “Do you want to wait downstairs? I'm sure Mattie will be home soon.”

  “Okay.”

  He stood and offered me a hand. We walked downstairs. I stopped when I was on the second last step. The entire place was spotless. Everything gleamed. Clean wine glasses hung on the wine rack. Everything was in order. It looked like a showroom.

  I stared at him. “Did you do this?”

  “Come on,” he tugged on my hand. “Let’s get you on the couch.”

  I sat, and he grabbed a blanket and pulled it over me. “Lie down.”

  I looked up at him. “Will you sit with me?”

  He paused for such a long moment, I was sure he would say no, but then he nodded. “Sure.”

  He sat on one end, and I lay on the length of the couch, my knees up, and my feet next to his thigh.

  He looked over at me. “Do you want some water?”

  I shook my head. “Thanks for sitting with me.”

  A smile ghosted across his face. “That’s what friends do.”

  I shifted my legs. My feet were cold. I burrowed them under his thighs.

  He looked at me. I snatched my feet back up. “My feet are cold.”

  He grabbed my feet and pulled them onto his lap. He wrapped one warm hand around my foot.

  “They are cold.” He wrapped his other hand around my other foot.

  “Your hands are better than socks.”

  Another smile tugged at his mouth.

  I stared at him. “Why did you clean everything up?”

  He shrugged.

  My self-loathing reached an all-time high. “I bet you wish you never stayed here.”

  “Not true.”

  “Why are you so nice?”

  His laughter was harsh. “I'm not nice, Emily. Not even close.”

  “You’re nice to me.”

  “Go to sleep. You’ll feel better if you sleep.”

  I was half conscious when he got up off the couch.

  “I’m just switching th
e laundry over,” he said.

  I failed to open my eyes. “Okay.”

  “Come on sweetheart.” He lifted me and then I was snuggled up against something hard and warm. I curled up, burrowing into the warmth. My head rested on a heater that rose and fell with each breath. I squinted. I was cuddled up against Jackson’s chest. My arm drifted up around his waist. I felt warm and so safe.

  Voices woke me up. I was lying alone on the couch.

  “What’s she doing down here?” Matt’s voice. He sounded annoyed.

  Footsteps jogged down the stairs. “She threw up on her bed.”

  “Oh, well fuck,” Matt said. “Serves her right. She was hammered last night.”

  “What the fuck are you doing, Matt?” Jackson sounded pissed, but his voice was quiet.

  A harsh laugh from Matt. “Oh, this is rich.”

  “That girl is so in love with you. She’ll do anything for you. All she wants from you is to spend some time with her.”

  Matt slurred. “You have no fucking clue what you're talking about.”

  “I know who you fucking left with. Seriously?”

  “Don’t fucking start with me.”

  “You’re messing up a good thing here.”

  “Jackson. You have always been so fucking jealous of me, haven’t you?”

  “This has nothing to do with me. Open your eyes.”

  “My eyes are wide open.”

  “So when your fiancée is sick and calling your name, and you aren’t home, and she knows that something is up, but she can’t wrap her mind around it.”

  “Just shut the fuck up, Jackson. God. Don’t even start with me.”

  “I’m trying to prevent a train wreck.”

  “You want to know what a train wreck is? Cynthia Clymore.”

  “You're still upset about her? She was your girlfriend, what, when you were fifteen?”

  “You fucking stole her from me,” Matt’s voice escalated about four-decibel levels.

  “I didn’t steal her. I didn’t touch her,” Jackson’s voice remained calm.

  “That isn’t what she told me.”

  “Well, she lied.”

  “You never wanted me happy. Everything I had you needed to break.”

  “Come on, man. I'm not the one breaking what you have here.”

  “Cynthia. My family. You came into my home and stole my family.”

  “Like I had a choice about coming to your home.”

  “You could have said no.”

  “I was seven years old. I arrived there kicking and screaming. I wanted to stay with Ted.”

  “Bullshit. You wanted my life all to yourself.”

  “Why the fuck do we have to rehash the same old shit? Huh? I was seven years old, and Ted spent more time in jail than he did at home. Looking back I guess I should have just manned the fuck up and dealt with it.”

  “Poor you. Always the same crying bullshit.”

  “Yeah, well I have no idea why I'm here since you're the one who begged me to come here. You so obviously don’t want to have anything to do with me.”

  “You’re such a dick. You know that, man? Like everything you do, you just do to spite me.”

  “Not true. It may come as a complete surprise to you, but I think of you as family. I want the best for you.”

  “You want my fucking life.”

  “No, I want you to open your eyes and see what an amazing life you have before you fuck it up.”

  “I’m not the one who fucked my life up.”

  My eyes were wide open, and my heart pounded in my chest. I pushed myself to sit up. Matt and Jackson stood nose to nose. Matt shouted his points, but Jackson’s voice remained moderate. Matt compared to Jackson looked small, yet he looked like he wanted to tear Jackson apart.

  I climbed to my feet. “What’s going on?”

  Two heads rotated in my direction. Matt tossed up his hands. “I can’t deal with any of this shit right now. I have to go.”

  Matt walked out of the loft. Jackson’s hand covered his mouth. He turned and walked away, his hands on his hips.

  I dropped the blanket on the floor and walked upstairs. I crawled into my freshly washed bed. I forced my brain to shut off. I was in no shape to even process that right now. I stared into the dark with wide eyes until sleep claimed me.

  Chapter 17

  “Police have confirmed this morning that the unidentified female body found in an industrial area was a victim of foul play. Unconfirmed reports that this may be the work of the throat slayer, a killer that could be tied to seven other murders of women around the city. Police remind women to be vigilant in their travels, to not trust strangers and to not walk in unpopulated areas alone at night.”

  The newscaster’s voice pierced my brain. Light streamed into my bedroom. I groaned and made stabbing motions towards my alarm clock radio before I finally succeeded in turning it off.

  My head throbbed. As I rolled over, I became alarmed that I might throw up again. Memories bleeped through my mind, like a bad movie. The party. Kissing Jackson. Julie and Jackson flirting. Matt and his coworker. Violent barfing. The fight between Matt and Jackson. Matt leaving. So much anger. So much hurt. I couldn’t even process what I had heard last night between the two of them. I couldn’t digest it.

  I staggered out of bed and into my bathroom. Everything looked pristine. The towels neatly folded on the rack. The toilet looked spotless. I shut my eyes. Jackson at some point had cleaned my bathroom. Matt couldn’t care less if I had been sick, but somehow Jackson had found the time to clean my bathroom in the middle of the night? He must have done so when I was lying on the couch downstairs. My behavior last night had been reprehensible. Why was Matt acting so crazy? I couldn’t even wrap my mind around the trouble between us. I had kissed Jackson, and only God knew what Matt had been up to. He hadn’t come home last night. I knew deep in my heart there was trouble brewing, but I honestly did not want to see the truth.

  I showered and walked downstairs. Jackson stood in the kitchen, looking fresh in his t-shirt and jeans. Pulled low over his eyes was his favorite baseball cap. I glanced around the spotless room and noticed his big black duffle bag at the door.

  My hands jammed into my armpits. He was leaving too. I lifted my chin and walked to the island. Green eyes looked at me. So serious.

  My voice scratched. “Thank you for helping me last night.”

  He regarded me with an intensity I didn’t know how to decipher.

  “Did Matt come back yet?” I tried again.

  He shook his head. I stared up at his face unable to determine his thoughts. He let nothing show.

  “Why are you leaving?” My voice sounded desperate even to my ears.

  He looked down at the floor. “I think it’s better for you and Matt.”

  “Who did he leave with last night?”

  “That’s a conversation you need to have with him.”

  “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “You should talk to Matt.”

  “What was last night about between the two of you?”

  “You need to ask him that.”

  “I'm asking you.”

  Green eyes met mine. No response. Just blank.

  “Do they train you to be like that?” Hurt laced my voice.

  “Like what?”

  “Not showing how you feel?”

  He stared back at me.

  “Where will you go?”

  Nothing. He inhaled through his nose. Emotionally unresponsive.

  Anger bubbled up inside of me. For how stupid everything was. For the fight between him and Matt. For how this man who stood before me made me feel things I didn’t want to feel. For the cold fear I felt every time I thought about Matt and me. And for the anxiety that drenched my skin when I thought of Jackson walking out the door. If I could make Jackson stay, I might be able to reverse this curse in my life. However irrational, if Jackson didn’t leave, then maybe, somehow, everything else would work out.

&nb
sp; “You’re not going,” I marched to his duffle bag. It made no sense, but I dreaded being alone with Matt. I refused to face what would happen if Matt and I had too much time alone together. Terrible things would happen.

  I attempted to pick up the duffle bag but staggered under the weight. I managed to lift it a couple of inches off the ground. I panted with effort.

  He appeared beside me.

  “What could you possibly have in this bag to make it weigh this much?” I grunted. When it became too heavy, my weak arms unwillingly dropped the bag back on the floor.

  “Emily.”

  “No,” I put my hand up. “Don’t. Just don’t, okay? I'm bringing your bag upstairs, and you can forget about leaving.”

  “Emily.”

  He showed no emotion. I clung to the duffle bag handles.

  “Why is everyone leaving!” I yelled. “Why does everyone leave me?”

  He crouched down on his haunches in front of me and looked up at me. His beautiful features were swimming in my tears. “Who left?”

  “Everyone. My mom. My Dad. My granny. Other stupid people. Matt. And now you. No one wants to stay. I just thought if one person stayed here things would work out.” Tears poured down my cheeks. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Nothing is wrong with you.”

  “Where is Matt? What’s going on with him? Why is he gone all the time?” My voice cracked. “I don’t understand this.”

  I dropped to the floor, wrapped my arms around my knees and put my head down. I lifted my face and looked at him. “But I understand why you want to leave.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I'm crazy. And messy. I don’t blame you. I want to leave me too.”

  His eyes were shadowed beneath the brim of his baseball cap, hiding his expression.

  The words poured out of me in a torrent. “I tried to kill you, but you still helped me pick wedding invitations. You saved me from getting run over. My stupid friends, even the married ones, all hit on you. And then I kissed you. Right before I barfed on you. You cleaned up after my big stupid party, and no one would blame you for wanting to leave. But you should know that you might be the greatest house guest I have ever had and maybe one of the nicest friends too.”