Jackson (Wild Boys After Dark, #3)(24)

He slid his hand from her grasp, wishing more than ever that he’d stayed at the bar. “It’s her life. Better him than me, that’s my take on it.” He pushed from the table. “I’m going to grab a glass of water. Anyone need anything?” He didn’t wait for an answer before stalking into the kitchen. He paced the small room, every nerve on fire. Leaning his palm on the sink, he stared out the window into the night, picturing Laney lying on the grass, looking up at the stars. He closed his eyes and envisioned her throwing rocks at his window, as she had so many times.

He pictured her damp, angry eyes when she’d thrown his brothers’ happiness in his face and felt the ice that had run through his veins as he’d forced himself not to respond.

You don’t have to marry me, she’d said. That had been the nail in his coffin. She knew he wasn’t capable of commitment, and she was still willing to give up Mr. Perfect for a chance with him. He couldn’t let her do that.

He felt his mother’s soft hand on his shoulder and bristled.

He turned to face the woman who had caught him making love to Laney and had been more worried about Laney’s well-being than his own. Things are different for guys, sweetheart, his mother had said. Women are tied up in emotions, and guys are tied up in hormones. Don’t hurt her, okay? I can’t stop you from being close to her, but use your heart and your head. Please. For her sake.

For her sake. Everything he did was for Laney’s sake.

“Jackie,” she said softly.

“I’m okay, Ma.”

She took both of his hands in hers, and even though his mother couldn’t see, she looked at him as though she saw every bit of his pain. Jackson knew she was more likely feeling something all around him. He felt as though he were surrounded by heavy, uncomfortable air.

She sighed softly, and her thin lips curved up into the smile she always seemed to have at the ready for her sons. “Lovey, have you told Erica how you feel about her?”

“Mom…” He said it as a warning, not wanting to have this conversation with her or anyone else.

Her eyes hardened before her voice. “Don’t Mom me, Jackson William Wild. I’m not going to sit back and pretend that you aren’t hurting. You might be an adult, but you’re still my son, and I care about you.”

“I’m fine.”

A master at being both drill sergeant and coddler, her gaze went soft again.

“Your father used to tell me that the word fine coming from my mouth meant that he’d better duck and run.”

His father’s voice had mostly faded from his memory, but he could almost hear him saying that.

“Sweetheart, how is Erica? Does she love this other man? The last time she was here, she said their relationship wasn’t serious.”

He shrugged before realizing she couldn’t see it. When he opened his mouth to respond, she said, “I felt the shrug and I call baloney on it.”

He turned away, forgetting how tuned in her other senses had become, and calling bullshit on himself, too.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.” She released his hands. “But the minute I go back into the dining room, your brothers are going to barge in here. I had to give them my mom glare to keep them out. You know the one, don’t you, sweetie?”

“I know it all too well.” He and his brothers had been rambunctious boys, and he’d been on the receiving end of that particular look more times than he cared to remember. “I should probably just go. You don’t need me ruining dinner.” He ran a hand through his hair, and she searched the air for his hand again.

“You’re right, we don’t need you ruining dinner. But you need us, so come on.” She led him back into the dining room, where his brothers glared at him like they knew he’d done the most heinous thing he could ever do—hurt Laney.

As he sank to his chair, he met each of their stares, and rather than pretend he hadn’t done what they feared, he told the truth.

“She’s better off with him.”

Even if it kills me.





Chapter Eleven


LANEY HOVERED OVER her desk, reviewing next month’s fashion layout for Wild Side and trying not to think about how her life was spinning out of control. It had been two days since she’d spoken to Jackson—and two days since she’d told Bryce that she’d come home early but couldn’t see him until the weekend. Bryce hadn’t been thrilled to have to wait to see her, but as always, he’d understood, as she’d used work as her excuse for returning early from her trip and for not having time to see him. She felt as discombobulated as she had when her parents had first separated. Only about a hundred times worse.

She’d hardly slept since returning from the mountains, spending her days trying to distract herself from thinking about either Bryce or Jackson, but nothing worked. She spent far too much time using her nonexistent powers to will her cell phone to ring with a call or vibrate with a text from Jackson. She should just call him. Or go see him. They were both stubborn. No one knew that better than her. It was one of the reasons they got along so well—they understood each other’s quirks, weaknesses, strengths, and soft spots.

He didn’t think he was good enough for her. He didn’t think he could commit. Well, he committed to everything he ever wanted to commit to, so what did that say about them?