“I can’t hold her,” I say, unable to hide the panic in my tone. “I’ll drop her.”
I can play with Chloe, but holding her is another thing entirely. Babies are slippery.
Seth grins, exposing his perfect, white teeth. “Then hold her over the counter. If you drop her, she won’t fall as far.”
Asshole. He turns his back and begins unpacking the bags while I hold his precious cargo in my arms. I look down at her and the little bubbles she’s blowing between her lips. She looks more and more like her daddy every day—with the exception of the bright green eyes, of course. Her black hair is thin and I can see the light tone of her scalp through it. On closer inspection, she looks more like Maddi, Seth’s sister. Either way, she’s going to break a million and one hearts when she’s older.
“Have you seen Jackson lately?” Olivia causally pries without making eye contact.
I look at her as she continues to clean the microwave, pretending her question is as normal as asking for the time.
“No, not in three days.”
She stops cleaning and stares into the microwave for a second. I feel shame seep into my cheeks as Seth peers smugly at me from over his shoulder. Olivia turns in my direction, her eyes thin and accusing.
“You’ve been on this self-imposed strike for two weeks now, Selena, and you saw him three days ago? What’s the point in locking yourself up if you can’t even keep your legs closed for a short period of time?”
I pull Chloe into my chest and shield her ears. She doesn’t need to hear these things. She doesn’t need to know her aunty (self-proclaimed) has boy problems. Olivia rolls her eyes.
“Who said I didn’t keep my legs closed?” I ask, feeling the need to defend myself. “Maybe we spent the night talking.”
The looks I get from Olivia and Seth are both amusing and unsettling. Dammit.
“I’m only human,” I tell them, feeling the need to defend myself.
They’re the last people on the Earth that should be chastising someone for having a lack of self-control. They’re animals, and I see another kid in their near future if Olivia isn’t already knocked up again.
As Olivia opens her mouth to say something else, a knock on the door cuts her off. My blood runs cold—or hot—I don’t know. There’s no mistaking who’s on the other side of the door this time. I know it’s not my father because he’s in Milan until next month.
“Seth, take Chloe.” I hold her out at arm’s length and he pulls her in close before sitting her on the counter and giving her a small, packaged block of cheese to play with.
She squeals in delight and I head back in the direction of the front door. As I walk, I drag in an unsteady inhale and hold it for a few seconds before letting it out. It does nothing to calm my electrified nerves and racing heart. I don’t think anything will. I always feel like this before I see him.
Always.
In the beginning, it was small and I was able to swallow it, but now, now the feelings are stronger than ever. I pause as I reach the lacquered wood that separates me from him. What do I say? Do I invite him in? Do I tell him to leave? I run my fingertips over my forehead, as if they’ll clear away the overwhelming questions. They don’t.
Nothing fucking helps.
I reach for the handle and turn it. With one last shaky inhale, I pull open the door and come face to face with Mr. Jackson Quinn. His green eyes light up as they rake over me, his full lips twitching at the corners. At the sight, my heart stutters and I nervously shift my weight. Why does he have to be so stupidly handsome? Olivia had it easy. Her ex was nothing special compared to Seth, so moving on was easy for her. I have no one to compare to Jackson. No one is in the same league. No one comes close.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as casually as I can.
I’m proud of the detached tone in my voice. The last thing I want is for him to hear the fear or excitement I truly feel inside. He feeds off of it. It propels him into a state I don’t have the will power to stop.
With a smirk, he leans against the doorframe and I try not to stare at the way his light gray shirt clings to his perfect form.
“You haven’t called so I thought I’d come and make sure you haven’t burned the house down while you’re still inside it.”
I roll my eyes. “My hero.”
I hold my breath as his smirk morphs into a full smile. My knees weaken slightly. He has such a beautiful smile. The devil sure knew what he was doing when he made Jackson. And his hair…oh god. I shouldn’t have looked. The way his light golden strands always sit all disheveled and shit… it’s like fucking kryptonite to my ovaries.
“Haven’t seen you in a while…” he mutters, and for the briefest moment, sincerity flashes over his features.
“It’s only been three days,” I remind him and his brows pull in.
“That doesn’t feel like an eternity to you?”
I fail to register his meaning. How can I? He flips his switch so often I can’t keep track, and I’m not about to show any vulnerability—not until I believe he deserves it.
“I don’t have balls, so no, three days without sex doesn’t seem like an eternity to me.”
But it did. These past three days have felt like four eternities—maybe more—and I want him more than ever. Without warning, his strong arm shoots out and he snatches my wrist. I gasp as he tugs on me, hard, and I crash into his body. Heat floods my system—an overwhelming heat. I can feel it surge across my scalp and pour down my spine until my body shivers against his. His smell—I can’t describe it. It’s fresh and deep all at once. It makes my mouth water and I swallow hard before it has a chance to pool under my tongue as he places a large hand on my lower back. The touch is soft, not demanding like the grip he has on my wrist.
“I’m not talking about sex,” he says, craning his head towards mine.
My lips part to let out a slow, nervous breath. My skin prickles, hyper-aware of his lips less than an inch away from mine. They’re practically begging me to swallow the distance between us.
But I won’t.
Not today.
Chapter Two
Jackson
Her pale green eyes flick to my lips and linger. It takes all of my energy not to smile in recognition. She might play dumb, but I know better—I know her better. I release her from my grasp despite myself. I want nothing more than to take this further, much further, but I noticed Seth’s car in the driveway as I pulled in, and I’m not about to ruin their breakfast or expose baby Chloe to things she shouldn’t see. I can’t imagine my ass, or Selena’s, being too kind on baby eyes. God knows it wasn’t easy on Selena’s father’s eyes when he walked in on us in the kitchen. I smile at the recollection.
An obvious flash of disappointment mixed with relief flickers over her features before she clears her throat and takes a defensive step back.
“Are you going to invite me in?” I ask, returning to my casual position against the door frame.
Her green eyes analyze me and she takes in my casual outfit—jeans and a tee. Eventually, her stare rests on my belt and they widen slightly before flicking to my face. She’s worried about my belt? She loved my belt when it was biting into her flesh, leaving beautiful red marks.
“I don’t want to,” she replies with all the fake confidence in the world.
I tilt my head. Maybe she means it. Maybe she doesn’t.
“But if I don’t, Seth might kill himself over breakfast due to boredom.”
I nod and my lips twitch. “Do it for Seth, then.”
Her stare locks with mine and I’m not sure how long she holds me for…could be seconds, could be minutes, hell, it could’ve been days before she finally huffs and steps aside. I peek at her chest as I slip past and resist the urge to flick her nipples as they strain against her pathetic pink cotton tee. I don’t realize I’ve stopped in my tracks until Selena shoves my arm and my gaze finds her face again.
“They’re in the kitchen, not in my shirt,” she states, he
r eyes narrowing and her cheeks flushing. “You know where it is.”
After two long seconds I manage to pull my stare from hers and fixate it on the hall in front of me. In the distance, I can hear a plastic plate being banged on the tiles repeatedly and I can’t help the smile that pulls at the corner of my lips. Baby person or not, Chloe is cute as shit and can put a smile on anyone’s face. Even mine.
I pick up my pace and march right into the kitchen. On the floor in front of the fridge, Chloe sits in a pink polka dotted dress, sucking on some cheese and banging a purple plate on the tiles, completely amused by the sound. I look across the kitchen then and see Seth in a tight blue tee sucking on Olivia’s face. I quirk my brow and lean against the counter. I thought chemistry burns out once you get married and have a child. Obviously not. I can feel their heat from here.
Olivia’s fingers rake through his hair and she pulls him harder into her mouth as her legs squeeze around his waist. It’s strange how life works out. A while ago, I couldn’t picture Seth settling down with anybody, and now I can’t picture him not having Olivia or Chloe in his life. I always imagined Seth ending up with some sort of trophy wife—blonde hair, big, fake tits, fake lips—all kinds of superficial. Seth always tended to avoid ‘sweet’ looking girls—afraid he’d ruin their lives. I wonder what changed his mind about Olivia? Granted, Olivia has a look about her that is anything but sweet. I mean, she’s not like Selena, but she’s not a nun, either. I smile at the thought of showing Olivia my belt. She’d die.
As the thought passes, I hear Selena saunter in behind me. “Oh, gross.”
Olivia snaps away from Seth and he glances over his shoulder, looking less than impressed. With a sigh, he pushes off of the counter and turns around. While Seth and Selena argue about Chloe and what she should and shouldn’t see, I take in all of the smells—bacon, eggs, onions—and a strange smell I can’t make out. Whatever it is, it’s burned. My stomach churns painfully. I haven’t eaten in a while. I’ve been too busy, too stressed, and too fucking wound up. I’m about to make a decision I’m not sure I’m ready to make and I need Seth’s opinion. If there’s time after breakfast, maybe I can steal him away for a few seconds.
***
I drag the sausage on the end of my fork through a thin puddle of barbeque sauce and put it in my mouth before dropping my fork against the plate and pushing it away. My stomach is heavy and tight, so I inch my chair back and straighten my legs.
“What are your plans for the rest of the day, Jackson?” Olivia asks with a not so subtle glance in Selena’s direction.
I bite back a smile. She has no idea I know what Selena is doing, and she has no idea I know it was her idea. Isolation? Really? Olivia doesn’t know me well enough. There isn’t a substance on this Earth that could keep me from getting what I crave. Brick walls or not, I’ll have Selena whenever I want her. Call me dedicated.
I shake my head. “I don’t have any plans.”
Beside me, Selena shifts in her seat and continues to pick at her slice of toast. Fuck, it annoys me when she doesn’t eat, but I bite my tongue. Olivia has a quick mouth and a habit of defending Selena whenever I seem a little ‘overbearing.’ I can be overbearing at times, even I can admit that, but whether or not I give a shit about Olivia’s protests is another thing entirely.
I don’t.
My overbearing personality helped Selena quit smoking, but Olivia doesn’t care about that. I’m the villain in her eyes. Olivia twists the handle of her fork between her fingers and opens her mouth, but Seth cuts in with a slap on my arm.
“Let’s get some air.”
About time. I nod and push myself out of my chair. I want to speak to him in private, anyway. He pushes Chloe’s water bottle closer to her before standing up and walking towards the exit. I follow and neither of us says a word until we’re thirty yards from the back door.
I’ve always enjoyed Selena’s backyard. It’s a broad, open space with the occasional fruit tree surrounded by small, white stones.
“Olivia was going to tell you to leave.” He chuckles, coming to a halt and running his fingers through his hair.
Of course she was. “I guessed as much.”
“It’s nothing personal. She’s just looking out for Selena.”
I stuff my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “Selena’s a big girl. She doesn’t need Olivia looking out fo—”
“And I’m looking out for you,” he adds, cutting me off. “What’s up, Jackson?”
I frown. Me? Seth has always had a freaky ability to tell whenever I’ve been stewing over something for a long period of time. I’m like a cliff facing the ocean. In the beginning I’m strong, but the more I think the more I break away, one piece at a time, and my weariness begins to show on my features. What can I say? I’m not completely indestructible.
I exhale. “I’m fucking bored, man. You’re busy with the gym; Darryl is, too and I’m going insane.”
Granted, I’m always at the gym helping out and running mixed martial arts classes with Seth and Darryl, but it’s not what I want. They’re tired when they go home, I’m energized. It’s not enough to keep me sated. Not even close.
Seth folds his arms over his chest, genuinely interested in my confession. “You want to do something else?”
I nod and ponder how I’m going to tell him. “I’m going to give the gym a miss for a while. I want to fight—and not with pads. I want to do it for real.”
His eyebrows smooth out. He knows this is a big deal for me and I don’t know when I decided I wanted to fight again, but it’s out there now. I haven’t fought since Amelia. I’ve thrown a punch here and there in Seth’s defense when he was going through all of that shit with Don, but this time, I want the full deal. The cage, the gloves, the rounds—the lot. It’s a dream of mine that was stolen by a woman who ruined my life. I remember the second time she made me fight someone for no reason. I was eighteen… and it was the worst night of my life.
***
Her smell, cinnamon and fermented grapes, blows over me. Amelia sets her wine glass down on the bar and leans against my shoulder. I glance down at her and she bats her long, dark lashes at me. The shadows from the poorly lit bar settle in the hollows on her face and while they linger, she looks more like a demon than an angel.
“You wanna go home?” I ask, despite already knowing her answer.
She shakes her head. “I’m bored, but the night’s still young.”
Amelia pushes off me and eagerly scans the bar for something to do. Clearing my throat, I shift on my stool. I don’t like it when she gets this look in her eye…like a hungry lion before it pounces. I watch closely as her stare rests on the couple playing darts in the far corner. They were here long before we arrived and they’re still doing the same thing, only drunker. She touches my arm, and through her grip, I feel her excitement. It sets me on edge.
“I want to play darts.”
“No, you don’t. You hate darts.”
She rolls her eyes. “Jackson, they’ve been playing forever. It’ll be a public service, really.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to make them move just so you can get your power hit, Amelia.”
Her eyes, as black as glass, thin into seething slits. “He is a little taller than you—and older. It’s okay to be scared of him.”
I scoff. “You think I’m scared of him?”
She doesn’t know me at all. She leans in close and I hold my breath as her glossed lips graze the shell of my ear.
“No,” she says and relief begins to fill me like a balloon. “I think you’re a pussy.”
With a sharp pin, she pops my balloon and I deflate, losing all sense of relief. I know better than to bite. I know better than to let her under my skin, but I can’t help it. She’s like a scarab beetle. She burrows under my skin, following my circulatory system until she’s in my brain and I can’t think of anything else. She said the exact same thing to me when she wanted me to get a tattoo and I didn’t want to
. Growing up, I never wanted a tattoo—that was Seth’s goal. Now, I’m barely nineteen and I have an entire left arm sleeve and plans for more. The artist wasn’t kidding when he said they were addictive.
With an exhale, she turns on her stool and slumps over her wine glass, disappointed. It fucking bugs me! It gnaws at me like a flesh-eating virus! I clench my jaw and try my fucking hardest to ignore her…
…the next thing I know, I’m on my feet and standing right by the couple playing darts.
“Can I help you, kid?” the man asks with a flick of his wrist, sending the thin, metal dart into the left of the board.
“My girl and I want to play darts and you’ve been hogging this board for a while.”
The man turns and looks directly at me. My gaze falls to his thin, graying moustache. “It’s a free country, squirt, and there are no rules here.”
His constant referral to my youth pricks at my temper and I grit my teeth together as his lips pull into a condescending smirk. His blonde-haired girlfriend, wearing heels much too high for a place like this, steps closer to her partner, wearing her own smug little grin. He raises his hand to throw the dart and ignores me like I’m nothing. I glance over my shoulder at Amelia and the look she’s giving me—the look of total disappointment—churns my stomach. It causes rage to ignite inside me, and this motherfucker’s blood is the only thing that will put the smile back on her face. I snatch his hand before he’s able to throw the dart and I pry it from his fingers. Red tints my vision and his absolute disrespect propels me harder, making me hate him more than I really should. I slam the tip of the dart into his thigh and in the distance, I hear his girlfriend shriek.
“Ahh, you fuck!” he growls as he hunches over to protect his thigh.
Not caring if he winds up dead, I grab his head, bunching his wiry hair in one of my hands, and punch him clean in the side of the face, repeatedly, until his body sags against mine. His gesture is clear defeat, but I don’t care. As he folds over himself in front of me, I grip his head with both my hands and drive my knee into his face. Then, my world catches up with me, and the silence of the bar becomes too loud, even over the pound of my unsteady heartbeat. I look around and everyone stares…watching me with wide eyes. A second later, the red begins to fade and the regret settles in.