Love and Relativity (10 page)

I pressed my fingers to his lips and pinched down to silence them. “Just come up. We don’t have to figure everything out tonight.” I dropped my hand from his mouth and gave him a peck on the cheek. My mind flashed forward to what would happen if I brought him upstairs, and my stomach fluttered as I focused in on his heady, tropical scent and his firm, strong body. Part of me wanted to play nurse, tend to his injuries, and keep a distance between us. But another part of me, a part that was suddenly filled with urgency, started to forget our friend/enemy status and steadily focus on our attraction. This wouldn’t be a casual hook-up or a friends with benefits deal, would it? What was Jackson to me, anyway? A single memory sparked and reminded me of the one thing I knew: he was the man with the blanket that night. The man with the strong arms, empathetic face, and soothing voice.

He was Jackson.

Biting his bottom lip, he nodded with a wry smile, letting me slip off his lap. The seat groaned beneath me as I shifted toward the passenger door, filling the truck’s tense silence. It didn’t matter how conflicted I was now. It was too late. I’d already asked him to come up. Jackson ran his hands down his thighs and drew in an edgy breath before turning to get out.

We walked quietly up the apartment building stairway and I led us inside. Flicking the hall light on, I shrieked when I spotted the human form passed out on the sofa, its back facing us. It groaned and rolled over, an arm and throw pillow obstructing our view of its face, and Jackson shoved me behind him in a protective stance. We scanned the room, looking for signs of anyone else, signs of an intrusion. No broken windows, no nothing. Yet there was an intruder in my home. In the midst of my panic, I managed to fumble for my cell phone with intent to call the cops, but I was unable to pry my eyes from the person on my couch, unable to dial.

I froze and blinked in disbelief, then darted forward to tug at the person’s shoulder.

Jackson called out from behind me. “Emma, careful. Do you know this person? Don’t you live alone?”

Another groan filled the living room and the person swatted my hand away. I tugged again.

“What the hell, Emma? It’s 2 a.m.” the intruder finally said.

I swallowed hard and my shoulders tensed. I knew that voice.

“Chris?” I hissed, yanking at him more forcefully now. He finally turned and sat up on the edge of the couch, releasing a groggy yawn. I reached over to the end table and turned on the lamp for more light.

“Um, yeah.” He ruffled his shaggy blond hair and squinted up at me, his eyes working to adjust to the light.

“No shit, it’s 2 a.m.!” I hauled a couch pillow at him full force, satisfied with the hard thud sound it made when it hit his stomach. “How the hell are you in my apartment right now? And
why
are you here?”

“I’d like to know the same thing,” Jackson said, his voice gruff. He came to my side and cracked his knuckles, his shoulders and chest strung tight as a bow.

Chris stood and straightened himself. “You never changed the lock. I still have my key, you know. Is this...” he walked closer, “Jackson
Taylor
? Aw, Em, you have
got
to be kidding me. Are you for real?” He waved a hand at Jackson, a disgusted curl twisting his lips.

Jackson strutted up to him, bringing them nose to nose. “I don’t think that’s any of your fucking business. Now get your shit and get out, or I’ll put you out. Are we clear?”

Chris snorted, his eyes bouncing from Jackson to me. “This is bullshit. What, is he going to beat me up? Looks like I’ll be round two for the evening.” He gestured to Jackson’s busted lip and swollen eye. “Emma, would you look at him? You’re not safe with him. He needs to be locked up like his father.”

Jackson’s knuckles tightened, pulling them into hard fists, every muscle in his neck clenching. I lunged forward to stand between them. Chris had never mentioned Jackson’s dad to me. I was surprised it was even on his radar. He didn’t give Jackson the time of day back when we went to Pete’s together, except to stake his claim a few times when Jackson hovered over me a little too long at the bar.

“Shut the hell up, Chris,” I spat. “Don’t say another word, or I swear on my life I’ll kick you in the fucking balls myself. I don’t know why you held onto your key for a
year
, but you have absolutely no right to be here, and I can’t imagine you have anything to say that is worth me listening to.”

Jackson inched closer and I blocked his chest with my hand. “I’m counting to five,” he said, his glare slicing Chris into a million pieces. One glance at their vicious stare down, and I knew this would end badly.

I had to act.

“Say what you want to say, Chris. You have two minutes. Any longer and I’m calling the cops.”

“Damn it, Emma, calm the hell down. What’s gotten into you? Is this dickhead rubbing off on you or something?”

“That’s it.” Jackson pushed past me and grabbed Chris by the collar of his shirt, lifting him off the ground with a hard shake. “You heard what she said. Now fucking talk.” Releasing him with a sharp jerk, he let his toes touch the floor.

Chris straightened his shirt and nudged Jackson’s chest to push him back, his jaw setting. “Is that how you handle everything? With your fists? You better never lay a finger on Emma, or so help me, God—”

“Chris,” I seethed, my chest tight, “just stop. Jackson would never hurt me. He’s done nothing but...
protect
me. A loyal concept your brain can’t even grasp.”

“Oh, please,” he laughed. “Loyal? The whole island knows he’s a two-timing asshole who only cares about himself.”

I gritted my teeth, moving to stand in front of him. I could feel the veins popping in my neck. “He’s never hurt
me
. He’s been there for me in ways you’d never understand, so stop running your mouth as if you know what you’re talking about. Now what is it you’re here to say?”

“I
do
know what I’m talking about, Emma.” He turned to Jackson. “Yeah, I’ve heard talk about you around the island. Heard you have the same temper as your old man. Everyone knows your daddy beat those whores up he used for his drug runs. What’s his problem? Is he too chickenshit to do his own dirty work?”

“Chris!” I screamed, but it was too late.

Jackson’s fist collided with Chris’s jaw, and Chris stumbled back onto the couch. Jackson bent down and gripped him by the neck, ready to send him another blow, but my next scream stopped him.

“Jackson, stop!”

He froze, fist in midair. He clenched his jaw and turned to look at me, his eyes softening the minute they met mine. His chest rose and fell as his breathing slowed.

I held my hands up, shaking my head. “Don’t. Please. Walk away.”

He held my stare for a second, then turned back to face Chris, putting some distance between them. “You know what, man? You’re right. My dad might’ve screwed up and I’m sure as hell not perfect, but your score card? It’s fucking
epic
. You cheat on a girl like Emma with the first random chick who gives you a hard-on and have the nerve to bail on her, screw with her college plans, and not even show your face at her sister’s funeral after you make her feel like a worthless piece of trash? Even me, the island’s number one fuckup poster boy, wouldn’t do something so insanely stupid. Congratulations on that
supremely
stupendous accomplishment.”

And just like that, he was gone. Out the door with a loud slam that left the room cold. A few seconds later, the roar of his truck echoed through the apartment building parking lot, tires screeching as it sped off. I hated that sound. It meant an angry, unstable person driving out there on the road. My brows furrowed and I squeezed my eyes shut, willing away the vision of the drunk driver’s face who’d taken my sister’s life.

“I think you should go,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat.

Chris staggered to his feet and felt his nose, blood on his fingers. “I’m not going anywhere until we talk. I can’t believe that son of a bitch just hit me. I should press charges. You were a witness.”

Resigned, I shut my eyes and sighed, slumping into the loveseat. “I won’t stand up for you.
You
broke in to my apartment and instigated
him
, saying shit about his dad.”

“I let myself in with a key.”

“Yeah, a key you have no right to have. I’d tell the cops the truth—you’re an intruder and he was defending me. You haven’t lived here for over a year. Now cut the crap, Chris. What do you want to talk about?”

He felt for the end of the coffee table and took a seat. “I tried getting a hold of your mom tonight, but no luck. Then your cell phone went straight to voicemail, so I just decided to come over. No answer, so I let myself in and passed out.”

“What on Earth would possess you to think it’s okay to do that?”

“I just knew...what last night meant to you, okay? I know we haven’t spoken for a year, and I know you don’t want anything to do with me ever again. But I just...
needed
to see you. I was cruising Prescott Lane yesterday afternoon and it all hit me.”

“That you needed to see me.”

“Yeah, that I never went to her funeral, that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me, and...”

“And you needed to see me.”

“
Yes
, Emma. How would you feel if the shoe were on the other foot? Think about it. Say you screwed around behind my back, dumped me, and then a month later, my sister died. You’d feel the like the biggest asshole on the face of the planet.”

A few seconds of glum silence passed between us. I pulled myself from the loveseat and stood in front of him, gazing down at him, hands wrapping around my torso. He eyed my boxer shorts and heels for a moment, but wisely, didn’t comment.

“I’m really glad to hear that buried beneath your selfish, pathetic shell, you actually have the capability to feel a shred of remorse for what you’ve done. I’m thrilled, Chris, really I am. But here’s the thing. You needed to see me.
You
needed to see
me
. Why? To relieve some of your guilt. You sitting here right now has absolutely nothing to do with me. You’re here for your own forgiveness.”

“Is it so wrong to need closure? Hell yes, I need forgiveness, Emma. Who are you to deny someone of that?”

“Ha.” My arms dropped to my sides. “Chris, if it’s closure you’re looking for, I can give you that. We’re over. We’ve been over, and it’s okay. Bury that horse. If it’s forgiveness you need, fine. You’ve got it. I’m far better off without you. You did me a favor, really. You screwed up. You’re human. I can deal with that. You want me to give you permission to let go of the guilt? That’s something I can’t do.” I turned for the door and opened it. “So, it’s time you leave. There’s nothing else to say here.”

He held my gaze a moment then stood to his feet, taking hesitant steps toward the door. When he reached me, he paused and reached into his pocket, handing me the spare key. His eyes lifted to mine, and I searched deep for something other than anger and hurt, the only things remaining between us, but there was nothing. “I’m sorry about Jen,” he said. “Have a nice life.”

Ah, ever the charming prince.

I shut the door behind him and slid down the back of it, slumping to the floor, knees pulled tight to my chest. For the first time all weekend, I let my head fall and allowed myself to feel the full weight of my sobs.
Jen,
please forgive me.

***

“Miss Velma, I can read two more pages, but then I have to go home. My shift ends at 5:00. Casey will be taking over for me, though, okay? She’ll take good care of you.”

“Casey hates to read to me.” Velma pouted, crossing her arms and turning to look out the window. She was snuggled up in bed, her feet wrapped tight beneath the blanket, just the way she liked it.

“Well, I’ll talk to her about that. I promise. She does bring you your favorite hot chocolate, right? How about I have her bring you a cup from the dining room when she gets in?”

“It’s 90 degrees out and I’m old, not crippled. I can get my own damn hot chocolate. You young people. You all think we’re either deaf, dumb, or blind.” Her head snapped back in my direction, her pointer finger wiggling in my face.

Oh, boy. Here we go.
I shut her Robert Frost poetry collection and rested my hands gently in my lap.

“Let me tell you something, honey. When your boobs fall south and that pretty skin of yours looks like you’ve been tanning in a nuclear war zone, you’ll see what I mean about independence. When the looks are gone, all you’ve got left is your spirit, and ya gotta use it until you lose it. That and the occasional sponge bath from Francisco, but soon his ass will be just as wrinkly as mine. Beauty fades, but a strong will keeps ya young and springy.”

“Yes, Miss Velma.”

“So you tell that Casey to go help Mr. Waldorf find his teeth, because I won’t be needing her tonight.” She huffed and pulled the quilt tighter to her chest, just beneath her chin, returning her gaze to the window.