On My Knees - J. Kenner Page 0,53
I admit. “But she’s calling it quits with Zee, and I think she decided to drink away her angst while you and I were otherwise occupied.”
“Hell, yeah, I did.”
I grimace. “She’s on a bender now, and not driving. Might as well let her finish.”
Jackson tilts his head, and I see compassion in both his expression and the way he pulls her closer and gently strokes her hair. “I’m so sorry, kiddo.”
“It’s just not working with her,” Cass murmurs. “I know it hasn’t been that long, and she’s going to say that we just need to give it time, but—”
“But you know,” Jackson says. “You already know the way it is.”
She shifts in his arms, her head flopping back a bit as she tries to look him in the eyes. “Yeah, I do. Is that dumb?”
Jackson shakes his head. “Not dumb at all. You can know the truth in a heartbeat if you’re willing to really look.” He turns to face me. “I’m really looking.”
My chest feels suddenly tight, and I nod. Just one single nod of acknowledgment, but it fills me up. And all my earlier worry and angst seems to melt like cotton candy in the rain. Because though we may have secrets, there is nothing shallow or fake about what is between Jackson and me. It is real. It is right. It is us.
Cass glances between the two of us. “That was the most romantic thing ever.” She turns her focus to Jackson. “Is there an XX chromosome version of you out there?”
“Sorry. Just the one brother.”
She makes a face. “That you know of,” she says, and both Jackson and I have to laugh.
She drifts off, her head tucked up against his chest and his arm around her shoulders.
“You look very parental,” I say, and the light from the street-lamps as we turn into the marina must catch his face strangely, because for a moment it looks as though he flinches.
The illusion passes quickly as he smiles. “I’m hoping that I won’t find any daughter of mine quite this wasted.” But he strokes her hair as he speaks, and I can’t help thinking that Jackson will be the kind of dad who’ll protect his family with a wild ferocity, even if that means sacrificing himself.
And as Edward takes us the rest of the distance to Jackson’s boat, I realize he’s proven that already. Not for a daughter, but for me. Because god knows when he beat the crap out of Robert Cabot Reed, he did a hell of a lot more for me than my father ever did.
It’s a nice thought—a comforting one. Because as the memory of all those camera flashes lingers, I can’t help but fear what might be coming our way. The assault. The movie. Reed’s photos of me. A whole shitstorm of gossip that we will inevitably have to face.
And though I’m not certain I’m strong enough to handle the storm—and although I know that Jackson’s first instinct might be to beat the crap out of whoever is dishing it out—I know that whatever else he does, he will protect me. My knight on his shiny white horse.
Frankly, that is a damn nice feeling.
When we get on the boat, it’s clear that there will be no after-party for Cass. “I’ll take her down and put her in the guest room,” I say.
“While you do that, why don’t I open a bottle of wine? It’s a clear night. How do you feel about the two of us sitting on the deck and watching the stars?”
“I feel exceptionally good about it. Give me five minutes to get her settled.”
Fortunately, she’s mobile, if wobbly, and I’m able to get her stripped down to bra and panties quickly. “In you go,” I say, pulling the sheets back and helping her in. “I’ll wake you in the morning before I go to work.”
She mumbles something incoherent that I translate as “good night,” and I start to tiptoe for the door. But just as I’m about to step into the hallway, her soft “Syl,” calls me back.
“You okay?”
She holds out her hand. “Stay? Just ’til I fall asleep?”
I hesitate, thinking about Jackson and the wine and the stars above us. But this is my best friend, and she needs me, and there’s really no debate to be had. I’m at her side in seconds. “Scoot over,” I say, then lay down beside her. She spoons against me, and I close my eyes, realizing as I do that exhaustion has been