“You’re Luna, right?”
I tense at the sound of a sugary sweet voice that I’ve only heard a handful of times yet I already hate. I especially hated it when it echoed around the barn earlier calling for Jackson for some reason or another, interrupting whatever moment he and I were sharing.
The sense of deflation I felt when he dropped his arms and stepped away from me as quickly as possible still lingers.
Forcing a smile, I look at Caroline where she lurks in the doorway of Jackson’s bedroom. I didn’t mean to come in here; I got sidetracked on the way to the bathroom. The door was ajar, and I couldn’t help myself. I had hoped for a moment alone but apparently, that was wishful thinking.
The ex-girlfriend of my ex-boyfriend steps forward. “I’m Caroline.” Oh, I know. “Jackson’s… friend.”
My hand twitches at my side, itching to slap that look off her face. All coy and demure and friendly.
That might be the red wine talking.
I hate how comfortable she looks as she saunters into his room and perches on the edge of his bed, smoothing her hands over the bedsheets, looking like she belongs. Looking at me like she knows everything. “It must be weird for you to be here.”
“Probably about as weird as it is for you.”
“Oh, it’s not weird for me. I’m practically family.”
I resist the urge to snort. Yeah, I highly doubt the actual family members would agree with that statement.
Unperturbed by my lack of reaction, Caroline continues, “It’s just so awful, what they’re going through.”
I hum my agreement. Maybe if I don’t make conversation, she’ll just go away.
Again with the wishful thinking.
“I came right over here as soon as I heard. Jackson was a mess, the poor thing. Just cried in my arms for days.”
She’s fishing for a reaction, I can tell by her voice, but I refuse to give her one. Fisting my hands at my side, I smile through gritted teeth. “It’s nice that you were there for him.”
God, I fucking hate that smile of hers. “Well, we have history, you know. A lot of it. I knew he’d want my comfort.”
Not just comfort. Her comfort, specifically. Like only her comfort would help him.
Bitch.
I’m about to excuse myself before I do something like, I don’t know, throw her out the window, when a dramatic huff steals my attention. “You’re still here?”
Because the atmosphere wasn’t awkward enough, Lottie chooses this moment to darken the doorway, arms folded and that seemingly permanent grimace on her face. I assume the teenage angst is directed at me until I realize that scowl is solely focused on Caroline.
The latest object of Lottie’s wrath adopts a gritty smile. “Of course I am.”
“Why?”
God, I want to laugh. Turns out, Lottie’s shitty attitude is pretty damn hilarious when it’s not directed at me or anyone I actually like.
Caroline’s fake smile tightens. “C’mon, Lottie. I’m just tryna help.”
“Whatever.” Lottie rolls her eyes. “Jackson’s looking for you.”
Caroline brightens as she gets to her feet, hastily heading for the door only to be body-blocked and scoffed at. “Not you.” Humor glitters in light eyes as Lottie jerks her head towards me. “You.”
Oh, now I really want to laugh.
It’s not a competition but ha. I win.
Brushing past the pair and wondering how long it’ll take before the scratching and hair-pulling begins, I hurry down the hall. Most people have cleared out by now, and it’s only my friends and the family left gathered in the living room, squashed on the sofas.
It looks—and sounds—like, everyone is following Jackson’s lead and getting a little toasted. Even Eliza’s cradling one of those barely alcoholic wine coolers, and looking nothing short of delighted about it. When she catches sight of me hovering in the doorway, she lifts the bottle in greeting, waving it excitedly and wiggling her brows. Beside her, Lux flicks her arm and rolls her eyes, toasting me with her bottle of water.
Jackson is alone in the corner, sprawled in an armchair, a beer in hand and his head resting in the other as he silently watches everyone. He smiles softly as I approach, no hesitation in how he wraps calloused fingers around my wrist and tugs until I’m settled on the arm of the chair. Shifting awkwardly, I clear my throat. “You were looking for me?”
He hums quietly, messing with the rings adorning my fingers. “Everyone’s staying the night. Are you okay with that?”
Even if I wasn’t, I don’t really have a choice; my ride is curled up on the sofa, his girlfriend in his lap and the youngest Jackson chatting his ear off about photography. But really, I don’t mind.
Not that much.
My knee knocks against Jackson’s. “I’ll sleep in the barn with Clyde.”
That coaxes a laugh out of him, a large hand enveloping my knee and squeezing.
I’m painfully aware of how close we’re sitting. And the longer we sit, the more the night goes on, the closer we get.
At one point, Jackson shifts my legs so they’re draped across his lap and scoots me closer until my ass sits on his thigh.
I blame my lack of protest on the wine.
After his third beer, his head lolls, falling to the side and settling in the crook of my neck. It’s instinct that has my hand reaching up and twining in his hair, fingers burying in the silky strands and stroking the way he used to like. Still likes, apparently, if the pleased rumble in his chest is anything to go by.
I could blame the wine again for my own head falling forward and resting on top of his. I could also blame it for my free hand creeping towards the one of his that rests on my thigh and lacing our fingers together. And I could definitely blame it for lulling me to sleep, and not the soothing strokes he rubs along my skin.
I’m not sure how long I doze for. I just know that the next time I open my eyes, I’m being cradled in a pair of strong arms. Blinking away the sleep, Jackson’s face comes into focus just as he sets me down on a soft surface. His bed, I realize, the knowledge bringing a whole horde of butterflies to life in my stomach. “What’re you doing?”
“Go back to sleep,” he shushes me gently. Too sleepy to protest, I let him ease my shoes off, let him tuck me under the covers. Tucking my hands under my face, I curl up in a ball, relishing in the comfortable warmth.
“Where are you sleeping?” I ask through a yawn. My face twists in a grimace when he points at the floor. That doesn’t seem right. “The sofa?”
“Taken,” he tells me as he arranges a couple blankets in some poor excuse for a bed.
I don’t know if it’s the drunk side of me or the desperate, needy side but something makes me scoot over as far as I can without falling off the edge of the small bed and pat the empty space I make. Definitely drunk but maybe needy and desperate too, Jackson doesn’t protest. He just flops beside me, his head lolling towards me, his eyes trained on mine.
For the second time today, he shocks me by saying exactly what’s on his mind. “I miss you.”
A lump forms in my throat. “Jackson…”
“I know,” he says softly, a rueful grin on his handsome, tired face. “I’m not allowed to. But just lemme pretend for a sec.”
Pretend. Pretend everything’s okay. Pretend everything’s normal. God, that would be nice.
I choose to, once again, blame the wine for the way I inch closer to him, not stopping under my chest is flush against his side and my head rests on his shoulder. “Okay.”
It’s a bad habit we’re creating, this falling asleep in each other’s beds business.
I think my body knows it too, because it wakes me up at the crack of dawn and doesn’t let me go back to sleep. The sun is barely up when I slip out of his bed, stopping to switch his alarm off on the way out my door because I have a feeling sleep is not something he comes by often these days.
Padding down the hallway, I make a pit stop in the living room to steal a blanket, careful not to wake any of the bodies passed out there. No one stirs as I wrap the blank around my shoulders and creep outside, even when the screen door squeals loudly.
A chilly, morning breeze caresses my bare legs as I slump on the porch steps. I’m still wearing my dress from yesterday because apparently, asking for a change of clothes is where I draw the line. Hugging the blanket tighter around me, I breathe in the brisk but fresh air.
I sound like a broken record but God, I missed this place so fucking much. I missed the feeling I get whenever I’m here. All I’ve wanted the past few months was the peace I associate with Serenity Ranch and I couldn’t get it, and it was my own damn fault. And as good as it feels to have that now, I’m already dreading leaving and not knowing if I’ll ever be back again.
When the door creaks open behind me, I brace for Jackson. I only relax slightly when Lux appears in my peripheral, swaddled in a blanket too, a mug cradled to her chest and another held out to me.
I accept the drink, the heat of it seeping through the ceramic into my cold hands, the steam warming my face and carrying the scent of green tea. “Is it poisoned?”
Lux’s elbow meets my ribs as she sits down beside me. “Drama queen.”
I say nothing, just elbow her back. We huddle together, sharing warmth as we sip our tea in silence. After a while, I feel Lux’s gaze on the side of my face, so eerily similar to the way Jackson stares me down. “You look like shit.”
“Gee, thanks,” I respond wryly. “You always were my favorite.”
She doesn’t entertain my attempt at comic relief. “Seriously, Luna. You look miserable.”
“Yeah, well. Makes sense.”
“Luna,” she starts, soft and unoffending, “what happened?”
I know what she’s referring to and it makes me itch. Just thinking about the whole ordeal last summer fills me with an icky mixture of embarrassment and nerves and guilt and utter fucking disgust that I’m even involved with it, and with how I lashed out after I found out. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Lu-”
“Hey, it’s me who should be checking up on you,” I interrupt, nudging her knee with mine. “How are you doing?”
I send up a silent thanks when Lux sighs and lets me change the subject. “It’s weird. Like, I knew she was never gonna come home but now it’s because she can’t and not because she doesn’t want to. I don’t know how to feel about it.”
“I think that’s normal.”
Lux shrugs. She sniffs, voice thicker and quieter than it was a moment ago. “I feel like I don’t care as much as I should,” she whispers. “I never really counted on seeing her again so, like, what’s the difference?” Another sniffle, and I pretend I don’t see the tear slipping down her cheek. “And I have so much other shit to worry about right now, it just… God, I sound awful, but it doesn’t seem all that important.”
Wrapping my hand in hers, I squeeze tightly. “I’m really sorry this is happening to you.”
“Yeah, me too.” Shaking her head and straightening up, Lux wipes her face before turning to me and pinning me with a look that, honestly, scares me a little. “I need to go somewhere later and I want you to come with me.”
“Okay?”
“No one else knows.”
A bad feeling settles in my gut. “Are you sick or something?”
The laugh she lets out is bitter. “Something like that.”
I wait for what feels like a lifetime before she sucks in a deep breath, something that looks a lot like fear flickering in her brown eyes. “I’m pregnant.”
“They definitely thought we were a couple.”
Lux takes her eyes off the road for a split second to shoot me a look. “They did not.”
“Did you see how that creepy receptionist looked at us? He definitely did.”
“He was looking at you because you look like that.”
I snort. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Lux shoots me another look. “You’re hot, Luna. The creepy man thought you were hot.”
“Sounds like you want us to be a couple.”
My comment earns me a slap on the arm, but it’s worth it. It makes Lux smile. She’s been a jittery mess since the appointment.
When I woke up today, I really didn’t think my morning was going to be spent at a clinic two towns away staring at my ex-boyfriend’s sister’s ultrasound. I thought she was joking when she told me, I really did. I thought it was payback or something.
Like, ha ha, here’s your karma for hurting my brother in the form of a fucking heart attack.
But no. She was deadly serious and she proved it; I couldn’t argue with the blurry black and white blotch squirming on the ultrasound technician’s screen. Or the small bump rounding her stomach. I can’t believe, with how close the Jacksons are, that no one’s noticed that thing. She claims I aided in helping to hide it; apparently, Jackson’s been too distracted to pay much attention to her. She waved off my apology; she’s not ready for him to know anyways.
The only person who knows besides me is the father, and according to Lux, he’s doing his best to pretend he doesn’t know. I offered to slash his tires but Lux declined.
I might just do it anyway.
“I need someone neutral to know,” was her reasoning for telling me. She needed to tell someone who it doesn’t directly affect, I guess. Someone who wouldn’t freak out like she knows Jackson and her sisters and, Jesus Christ, her grandparents will. I’m happy to be that person, if it makes things a little easier for her. I’m happy to hold her hand at an ultrasound and suffer the leers of pervy receptionists and kind of lie to a bunch of people I care about.
She’s growing an entire person in secret. The least I can do is be a shoulder for her to lean on. Or cry on. Or an ear for her to bitch to.
I’m sucking down the dregs of a strawberry milkshake—one of four Lux ordered because she claimed we needed a cover story but really, I think she just wanted McDonald’s—when we arrive back at Serenity Ranch. Both Lux and I’s faces screw up when we see everyone gathered outside. It looks like they’re loading up the rental, getting ready to leave.
Lux’s car has barely rolled to a stop before Jackson is jogging our way. A frown on his face, he opens Lux’s door and leans inside. “Where did you two go?”
“Out,” is Lux’s simple reply.
“We got food,” I blurt out quickly, holding up the almost empty paper bag as proof.
Before Jackson can question us further, Lux shoves him aside so she can get out of the car, mouthing a ‘thank you’ my way when he’s not looking.
I do the same, planning on scurrying towards the girls and using them as cover, but a tall body in my way stops me. “Hi,” Jackson greets me, an intense, unnerving look on his face.
I swallow hard. “Hey.”
“You were gone when I woke up.”
I don’t like waking up alone.
I slap that ghost of a voice out of my head quickly, before I do something silly like cry. Instead, I shrug, aiming for nonchalance and hoping it hides how much sleeping in a bed with him messes me up. “I’m an early riser these days.”
He snorts in disbelief before his eyes narrow. “You turned off my alarm.”
“Thought you could use the sleep.”
Crooking a brow, he leans against the car, arms folded. “That your way of telling me I look tired?”
“You look fine.”
“Fine? Hurting my ego, sweetheart.”
“Fishing for compliments, baby?”
I think we both realize what we’re doing at the same time. The joking around. How close we are. And it’s simultaneous, how we snap out of it, both take a big step back and awkwardly clear our throats.
Fuck, we’re so bad at this.
Scratching the back of his head, Jackson clears his throat again. “I’m staying here for the rest of the week but I’ll be home on the weekend. Can I, uh, see you, or something? On Friday maybe?”
Shit.
“I have plans,” I reply awkwardly, hating how quickly his face drops. “A dinner thing.”
“Oh.” Something like realization crosses his face, and I don’t like that I can’t understand what it means. “Okay.”
Hating how quickly things became uncomfortable, I jerk my thumb towards our awaiting friends. “I have to go.”
“Yeah. Of course.”
He joins me as I walk towards the truck, holds the door open as I climb inside, both pointedly ignoring the inhabitants watching us like we’re a fucking soap opera.
“Thanks for coming,” Jackson says to everyone, but he’s staring right at me. Still stares when he closes the door. I swear, even when we’re driving away, his gaze somehow stays trained on me.
Only when the ranch is out of sight do I feel myself relax. With a sigh, I slump in my seat.
“Luna?”
My head rolls to the side to face Ben, and I almost groan at that sneaky little look on his face. “What?”
“Where did you sleep last night?“
