Jackson (Wild Boys After Dark, #3)(4)
They’d always kept keys to each other’s places. It was easier than what they’d done as kids—climbing through each other’s windows in the middle of the night. She felt his eyes on her as she walked naked to the bathroom. She was never self-conscious around Jackson the way she was around the guys she dated, but she didn’t want to analyze that too much. They had a great friendship, and the sex was hot every single time. Jackson never demanded anything of her, not a commitment, not details on her life with the guys she dated, not a damn thing, and she liked it that way.
She turned before closing the bathroom door and asked, “What time is it?”
“Eight.” He rose to his feet and headed out of the room.
“How long have you been up?”
He shrugged. “Didn’t sleep much.” He pointed to her clothes from last night, neatly folded on the dresser. “Those are clean.”
He left the room, and before she stepped under the warm shower spray, she noticed the way the bathroom fixtures sparkled and thought about how he must have been up all night. He cleaned the way she slept—to escape the things in life she couldn’t control or didn’t want to deal with.
After showering, she dried her hair using the hair dryer he kept for her beneath his sink, dressed, and went in search of Jackson to try to clear the air. Although she had no idea how to explain what was really going on, because it confused the hell out of her.
Jackson’s living room was furnished sparsely, which she knew was for the sake of his mother, who was blind. He didn’t like clutter anyway, and after his mother lost her eyesight, he had a reason to keep his place even tidier than normal. Laney knew that the guilt of not being there to save his father or protect his mother ate away at Jackson. He’d always been good to his mother. It was just one of the many things she admired about him, but ever since his father was killed, he’d become even more focused on making sure his mother was treated like gold. To anyone else, Jackson keeping his house in order would be a small thing, maybe not even noticeable. But Laney noticed, because she knew that if Jackson’s mother would let him, he’d have moved her in with him and put his personal life aside to care for her. Jackson didn’t like to talk about his parents or that awful night that had changed his family’s lives forever, but with Laney, talking had never been necessary. She knew…
She followed the hardwood to the kitchen and stopped cold. Roses were scattered over the floor, along the counter, and their petals had been stepped on. The box of chocolates Bryce had given her was hanging halfway in the sink, and Jackson was casually leaning his hip on the counter, his legs crossed at the ankle, as if he had all day long to wait for an explanation.
She shoved her hands in the pockets of her cutoffs and lifted her shoulders. “Sorry.” As she bent to pick up the flowers, her stomach knotted. The fact that he hadn’t cleaned up the mess spoke louder than his silence.
Jackson knelt beside her. “Ready?”
She knew he meant to talk, and she shook her head as they both gathered the roses.
“Ouch!” She shook her finger and sank down to her butt. Jackson took her hand in his and reached for a napkin. He wrapped it around the bead of blood where the thorn had pricked her finger and turned a warm gaze to her.
“How long are we going to play this game? Roses and chocolates? Am I supposed to guess? Because it looks like a great birthday to me.”
“It was…until he proposed,” she spat, the anger from last night bubbling to the surface. “The f*cker.”
Jackson’s jaw dropped open, and just as quickly he shifted his eyes away and scrubbed his hand down his face. He set the roses on the counter and reached for her hand to help her up. “That bastard. Roses, chocolates, and a promise of marriage.” Every word dripped with sarcasm, but she could tell by the tightness of his jaw that he wasn’t loving the idea any more than she was.
“I never even committed to being monogamous. Why would he think I’d commit to marriage?” She grabbed the box of chocolates and the flowers and shoved them in the trash can. “Asshole.”
“You’ve been seeing him for nine months, Laney. The guy’s solid, right? Or is there something about Bryce I don’t know?” He took the bag out of the trash and tied it off, then grabbed his keys. “Come on. We’ll drop this on the way, and I’ll buy you a blueberry scone to devour while you explain to me about Satan the Proposal Dropper.”
She didn’t want to talk about Bryce or his proposal. She wanted to disappear into Jackson and pretend like Bryce hadn’t opened a door she’d been ignoring successfully for years. Laney didn’t want to think about forever. She liked things just the way they were.
On the way to the Silver Mountains in Sweetwater, New York, where she and Jackson went camping every year for her birthday, Laney could drag out the silence for only so long by eating the scone. Jackson kept shifting his eyes to her, waiting. He was so damn patient. Always so damn patient. But she knew he was still stewing just as badly as she was over the whole thing.
She kicked off her shoes and put her feet up on the dash. “I told him I needed a week to decide.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Good. I think. What am I going to do, Jackson? I really like him. He’s a good guy. He’s fun and he’s stable. And he’s not a freak, which is half the battle when you’re dating.”