Two Weeks (34 page)

"We've got to talk about him," I say quietly.

"Yeah." Jackson is stoic as he watches Jeff's slumber. "We do."

"Is it okay if I grab him a blanket from the spare room?" I ask. "It'll get wet, so I wanted to ask first."

"That's fine. I'm going to get a glass of water and try to get him to drink it."

I leave them and run up the stairs. After I find a pillow and blanket, I come out of the room to the banister and walk slowly. There's a conversation taking place.

"I'm so s-sorry, man," I hear. "I'm a f-f-fool."

"It's okay, Jeff. I'm not mad. Just sleep it off. We can talk tomorrow. Drink some water."

Overhearing this male-bonding really chokes me up. I don't know what the hell went wrong in their relationship. Maybe this impromptu meeting will bring about some good in the end.

I take a very loud first step to signal that I'm coming down just in case Jackson doesn't want me listening in. When I get to the bottom, Jackson is looking up at me. Jeff's iPhone is sitting on the coffee table, and miraculously, it appears to be okay.

"He had a waterproof case on it," Jackson says, reading my mind.

"I didn't think those ever worked."

He curiously picks up the phone and touches the touch screen—it comes on normally. "Seems fine."

Jeff snores on the couch, totally oblivious to our discussion.

"He got lucky," I say. I stare down at my brother in his compromised state and wonder how much he'll remember tomorrow. Well, that's if he remembers anything at all. I turn back to Jackson. "Are you gonna tell me the whole story tonight?" I ask. "So tomorrow is less awkward?"

"There isn't a ton to tell," he says. "I've kind of already told you." As he speaks, he dries Jeff's hair and skin with another towel like he's working at a salon. When he's done, he covers Jeff with the blanket, so gently you'd think he was covering a newborn.

The cuteness almost makes my legs give out and I end up instinctively clutching Jackson's thick arm for support.

The pillow is handled with less finesse and care—he leaves it by Jeff's head since he's already contorted to the shape of the cushions. I'm amazed at how boyish Jeff looks as he slumbers, this man that so recently became a father to one of the most adorable little girls I've ever seen. It feels like a long time since I've seen him, and despite all of the turbulence, I'm actually glad this happened.

"I still don't know what you mean," I admit.

"We need to repeat that rubbing alcohol ritual," he says miserably. "And then I'll talk." He walks into the bathroom and grabs the cotton balls and rubbing alcohol and comes back. "Will you get some water?" he asks.

"Yeah." I fill up two glasses in the kitchen. When I come back, he flips off the light.

"Goodnight, Jeff," he says to ears that don't actually hear him. I can't help smiling.

We climb the stairs and head into the bedroom, closing the door behind us. "All right, let's get this over with."

I tend to the wound again, but it's less of an ordeal this time. I guess our last cleaning was just as effective as it was horrifyingly painful. He grimaces in anticipation, but eases soon after. "Ah, shit, still stings," he says through clenched teeth. "Not nearly as bad as last time though."

"Good." It's fun playing nurse to this big tough guy. And I'm thankful that we didn't need a
real nurse
to take care of Jeff.

"Do the stitches still look all right?" he asks.

"As good as stitches get.”

He laughs. "Okay. That's good enough for me."

We eventually clean up and Jackson takes a quick shower to wash himself after his unexpected plunge into the water. I sit in the bed and eagerly await him, reading my book in the meantime.

Jackson joins me soon after. I cuddle up next to him, eager as hell to hear his explanation, but not wanting to push him. After a few moments of silence, he finally begins.

"You remember when I told you about getting kicked out of college?"

My memory kicks in. "Yeah, from the asshole RA with the jealousy issues?"

Jackson gives me a very tired look. "Right. I didn't tell the whole truth. I omitted a couple important details."

I'm on the edge of my seat at this point, playing detective in my head. "So what?"

"The RA was your brother."

Record scratching sound in my head.

"Wait, what?" I'm shocked. "Why would he do that?"

"Well, I slept with his then-girlfriend, Manda, behind his back. But she lied to me. Said they were broken up at the time. And my girlfriend had just dumped me too. I was in bad shape."

"Seriously?"

I can see the honesty on his face, almost as if it was applied like makeup. "Yeah. I don't even know how he found out, but the pot thing was just him getting his revenge. It... wasn't supposed to be such a big deal. Normally, people just get kicked out of the dorms, and I think that's all he wanted. But the academic board didn't cut me any slack since they claimed it could have been bad publicity for the sports program." His eyes drift off into space. "I felt too defeated to stick around. Plus, I did feel bad about the thing with Manda."

This is really big. I'm blown away.

"Why is he still so hostile? I don't get it." What happened to Jackson was in no way proportionate to the damage he did to Jeff. I mean, Jeff broke up with Manda ages ago. They weren't even together that long.

"I don't know," Jackson says quietly. "I apologized to him—and I forgave him. He just... didn't get it. Like he couldn't actually hear what I was saying. It was like he
wanted
me to be madder than I was or something." He nibbles slowly on his lower lip. "I think he expected a war and when he didn't get it, his attitude didn't adjust."

So this is what Jackson didn't want to talk about when he was so vague about Jeff. He never wanted to implicate Jeff in this at all—uncomfortably similar to the current situation with Vince.

All he ever said was that they had some trouble and grew apart. That was it. Innocuous and simple—but really, it wasn't.

The situation is still uncomfortable, no doubt, but there's no way in hell that Jeff's drunken accusations of revenge are true. No bone in Jackson's body is even close to that malicious, and I know that.

"I was a little nervous about seeing you at the beginning because of this," he says and lets out an uneasy laugh. "But I never thought it was a real problem. I never thought this would actually come back to haunt me so...
directly
. And I wanted this. I really did." He turns and smiles. "I like you Ally, I really do. A whole hell of a lot. Maybe even more than that."

As I did earlier, I feel frozen, but it's not like ice. It's as if my brain is slowing down the world so that I've got enough time to think. "Me too," I say. My brain continues cranking away while I speak the words.

I lean in and kiss him, slowly and tenderly. My arm wraps around his back and holds him tightly. "Me too," I whisper again and pull away. For the first time, it's clear to me how fast I've actually been racing forward this whole time.

I can barely remember Max, and I can't decide if that's a good or a bad thing. Sure, it's been nice not thinking about his awful behavior and how he ruined our relationship and stole my best friend. But by doing this, in a way, I've forgotten who I am. Wiped the slate clean. Hit the reset button.

Does it mean I'm actually someone new? Or is this just another temporary shell to get me from point A to point B that I'll shed when I finally arrive?

"I'm sorry about all of this," Jackson says. "I've made everything so complex."

"It was my choice," I say firmly. "I chose to stay here and spend this time with you. I wanted to. I needed it. And now I wish I didn't have to leave."

Time, which has been such a fleeting thing to me, finally creeps back up. It's Wednesday night and I'm leaving at the crack of dawn on Friday morning. I don't know what to do.

This little "fling" has proven to be a hell of a lot more meaningful than I ever expected. Liz's selfish suggestion isn't so selfish after all. Two people brought together by simple mutual attraction—and then
this
is what came of it.

The room is still overwhelmed by silence. Nobody wants to say the wrong thing. "What will you do tomorrow?" I ask softly. "With Jeff?"

"I want to patch things up for good," he says. "No more bad blood. I don't care who did what. It has to end."

His words remind me that the current focus is on he and Jeff, not the two of us—and that's the way it should be. Best friends properly reunited after five years.

But that doesn't change the fact that this might be our last night together. I haven't seen my parents in days and probably should spend some time with them tomorrow night. Plus, with such an early flight on Friday, staying out late isn't really an option.

I hold Jackson and try not to cry. I fail almost immediately, the tears streaming down my face like a valve burst beneath my skin. "I'm really gonna miss you," I say. "These have been some of the best days of my life."

"Same here," he whispers.

"What else can we do?" I plead. I wipe my eyes and only end up making room for more tears.

"About what?"

"
Us
," I say. I know I'm getting carried away, but talking will help me more than stewing will.

His expression goes sullen. "It just has to end here. That's it. What can we do? You'll go home, and I'll stay. It's the only way."

"Oh, Jackson," I whine. I need consolation, and being realistic isn't cutting it.

"Besides, you don't want to get too attached to me. I could get hurt and... I just... wouldn't want you to worry all the time. It's not healthy for anyone."

"Neither is what you do. And it's a choice," I say. "You
choose
to do that."

He says nothing, which makes me believe that he agrees with me.

"Well?"

"Ally, there's nothing we can do." Each word he speaks is like a stab wound in my gut. I feel like we're ending something prematurely that could have blossomed into something truly wonderful—but I should have known this going in.

I
did
know this going in. It has to end when I leave.

My time with Jackson is nothing but a fantasy come to life, a reverie, a temporary, ephemeral, transient thing. Just one hot, wonderful man and me for a short while. No work, all play. It's barely reality. It's not sustainable.

I slowly ease up as sensibility infiltrates my brain. "Yeah. I shouldn't ruin our last moments together with stupid drama."

"It's not stupid." He runs his hand through my hair, gently tracing along my scalp, and settles on my back. It's that same tingly, electric feeling as always. "It's normal. But you'll be okay, I promise. You're strong."

"I guess." It feels hollow, but in the long run, it
has
to be the case.

Very few words are uttered the rest of the night. We cuddle and listen to each other breathe.

Because that's all we've got left now.

Jackson

T
wo realizations hit me hard as I wake—this is my last day with Ally, and my former-best-friend-turned-nemesis Jeff is downstairs on my couch. Huge realizations, those two.

Gargantuan.

Oh, and that I probably never would have run into him in the first place if we hadn't stayed an extra day. But whatever.

Ally is still asleep. It's early as usual. I gaze at her and savor the moment. That gentle rise and fall of her chest. That quiet whistling sound as air passes through her lips. That look of absolute innocence. She's truly free while she sleeps.

I'm suppressing my real feelings about her—and that's definitely what I did last night—but I don't know what else to do.

I creep out of bed and throw on some clothes, doing my best not to disturb her. She doesn't stir. I quietly open the door and step into the hall. I need to assess the situation downstairs.

Before I forget, I send Curtis a text to let him know that we're not actually meeting up today. And then, I go for it.

Water is running in the kitchen; Jeff must be up. I can hear it from the top of the stairs. I'm nervous, but I need to get this over with.

I take my time descending the stairs, hoping that Jeff will hear me coming. I don't want to surprise him.

As I reach the bottom, he's coming back in from the kitchen, glass of water in hand. He's shirtless and looks like shit, but after that much drinking, it's what I would expect. There are dark circles under his eyes and his black hair is a matted mess. His shirt and socks are in a pile next to the couch.

He's paying steeply for his drinking sins this morning.

Surprisingly, I don't have a hangover at all.

"Jackson," he whispers. His expression is one of immense disbelief. I wonder if he remembers this house from growing up. I don't know what he'll say next. "Do you have any coffee?"

"Dammit, Jeff," I say playfully. "That's the first thing you say to me, huh?" I'm thankful that I actually bought coffee the other day. "I'll make some."

Jeff looks ashamed as he sits back down on the couch. But he probably feels absolutely rotten, so I cut him some slack. "I don't totally remember how I got here," he says pathetically. "I was... way too drunk. And if I'm here, I probably screwed up."

"Don't sweat it," I shout from the kitchen. I dump the water and grounds into the machine and press the on button. The coffeemaker is really old, but it's reliable. I figure it'll still be running after I'm dead and buried.

"I assume I fell in some water," Jeff says pathetically. "That's why I slept on a towel, huh?"

"Yeah. You probably want a shower, huh?"

"In a little bit."

I join him in the living room, sitting down on the chair across from the couch as I wait for the coffee. "Your friends disappeared last night. So we brought you here. Well, it was Ally's idea, to be honest. Here or county jail, I guess."

He looks horrified. "God. I'm sorry for being such a burden. I'm too old for this bullshit anymore. Freaked out my wife pretty bad since I didn't check in last night. She was worried sick. I actually don't know what to tell her since I don't remember much."