Chapter 55: Bide: Chapter 51

That familiar, utterly overwhelming feeling of helplessness looms, constricting my chest and threatening to sweep me off my feet. If it weren’t for the hand flush against my lower back, it probably would.

The owner of that hand is what guides me to stand, or more like yanks me to my feet. Pen does the same to her mom, hauling her out of her chair. Professor Jacobs rises, reaching for his wife but she jerks away from him.

“Jennifer, please.”

“We’re leaving,” Pen snaps without looking at her dad, her full focus on her shaking, quivering, crying mother. “You are un-fucking-believable.”

So, he wasn’t living one life for twenty years. He was living two.

You know, I think maybe, very deep down where the little girl who longed for a dad lives, I held out hope that one day, we’d work this out. Not become a happy family or anything but a tolerable one. One that you can have dinner with without feeling like you’re choking.

Now, as I begin to understand just how much hatred the human body can handle, that hope dies.

And I think it dies in Mrs Jacobs too.

With a deep, bone-chilling sigh, she stares down her husband with teary but determined eyes. “I want a divorce.”

Jacobs gapes at her. “Jen, you can’t be serious.”

Oh, but she is. She might be sad and crying and heartbroken but God, she’s angry too, and everyone in the room can see it but him. Her gaze flicks to Ma and the anger softens, or maybe it just… changes. “I knew about you,” she reveals softly and Ma winces. “I knew about all of you.”

She knew about all of them.

Judging by the look on her face, Ma most definitely didn’t.

Mrs Jacobs barely gives us a chance to recover from that bomb before she continues, “You weren’t the first but you were the last. I never questioned why until now.” Her eyes land on me, and I swear I see humor flicker in them. “You scared him into fidelity, obviously.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Pen crumple. I see her angry mask shift just enough for hurt to shine through before she fixes it. I hear what she hears; I was enough for him to clean his act up, but she wasn’t.

Mrs Jacobs notices it too, and when she regards her husband again, all that anger comes rushing back tenfold. “I stayed with you because I was young and naive and I had nothing. I wanted a nice, stable life for my daughter so I stayed.“ She wraps an arm around Pen. “I will regret that for the rest of my life.“

With one last anger-filled glare, she turns on her heel and stalks out the room, Pen right behind her. I hear their footsteps retreat upstairs and then the sound of a door slamming, and I swear I don’t imagine a frustrated yell.

Professor Jacobs tries to follow them but Ma, quick as a flash, gets in his way. “You knew,” she spits. “This whole time, you knew.”

“This is your fault,” he spits back, fingers wrapping around her bicep and yanking her close. “If you’d just done what I asked and gotten rid of it-”

A cracking sound splits the air as Ma’s hand meets his cheek. “She is my daughter.” Her fury is palpable, like something charged in the air as she slaps once more for good measure. “You told me you wanted to know her. You told me if you’d known, you would’ve helped. My gut said you were lying but I gave you the benefit of the doubt because I actually felt guilty for keeping her from you. But you are just as despicable now as you were twenty years ago.”

“And what does that make you?” Jacobs snarls. “I didn’t force you to do anything. You were more than willing like a little-”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” For the first time since we walked into this damn house, Jackson leaves my side. He shoves Professor Jacobs back, knocking his hand off Ma and nudging her towards me. “Lay a hand on anyone in this house again and I swear to God, you’ll regret it.”

Without taking his eyes off Jacobs, Jackson fishes his keys out of his pocket and tosses them towards me. “Take your mom and wait in the car, Luna.”

“What’re you doing?” I don’t think he’s going to beat him up—that’s not really his modus operandi—but if he does, I really want to see that. Hell, I think we all want to see that.

“Just making sure Mrs Jacobs gets her stuff and leaves in peace.” When I don’t move, Jackson’s gaze flicks my way. “Ten minutes, sweetheart. I’ll be right there.”

Reluctantly, I go, tugging my mom along behind me.

We’re both quiet as we get in Jackson’s car, both releasing pent-up breaths in unison, both slumping in our seats. I eye my mom in the rear-view mirror. She looks exhausted, about a decade older than she did earlier this evening.

When she catches me staring, she musters up a weak smile. Leaning forward, she smoothes a tentative hand over my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

I nod, although I’m not sure how much truth there is in it. “Are you?”

Just like she didn’t question my slightly deceitful nod, I let her one slide, and silence settles between us as we alternate between staring at each other and anxiously peering at the house, waiting for the front door to open.

Ma breaks the silence. “I didn’t know she was pregnant.”

“Please don’t-”

“No. I need to tell you,” she interrupts me firmly, determinedly. “When I first started seeing him, I didn’t know Jennifer was pregnant. I knew he was married but he told me he was leaving her, and he gave me no reason not to believe him. He stopped wearing his ring. There was no sign of her in what I thought was his apartment, no clothes, no photos, nothing. There were no photos of her in his office. We went out in public. The only time he hid me was around campus and I thought that was because he was a teacher and I was a student. When I found out, I left him, but it was too late.”

She looks… pained. Like what she’s telling me is causing her actual physical harm. I want to comfort her, maybe take the hand practically super-glued to my shoulder but I don’t. I just… can’t.

Ma’s grip on me tightens, her free hand coming up to swipe beneath her eyes. “I was twenty years old and in love and I made a mistake. I know that. But if I never made that mistake I wouldn’t have you so I mean it when I say I don’t regret it. I hate that I hurt people and I hate that it’s made you see me differently but I don’t regret it.” Fingers graze my cheek, so much sincerity and hurt shining in her eyes that it hurts my chest. “I am so, so sorry that I hurt you, hun. I never wanted to.”

“I know.” And I do.

“I love you.”

Ever so slightly, my head tilts so my cheek leans against the hand on my shoulder. “I love you too.”

Whatever moment we’re sharing is interrupted by the front door opening. Three people spill out into the night, laden down with boxes and bags. Pen dumps her portion of the load in her car before jogging toward us. I crack my door and drag her half-inside, enveloping her in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, Pen.”

Pen pulls back and glances over at her mom quickly, a tight smile pulling at her lips. “We’re better off without him.”

I squeeze my sister’s hand. “Is she staying with us tonight?”

Pen shakes her head. “I’m taking her to a hotel. I’m gonna stay with her tonight. I…” She sucks in a shuddered breath. “I don’t wanna be in that apartment tonight. Or ever again.”

Yeah, me neither. If I could burn the place down without consequences, I probably would. But I don’t think either of us can afford to live anywhere else. “We’ll figure it out.”

“We will,” Pen agrees with a firm nod. She offers my mom a brief word of goodbye before kissing my cheek and scampering off. Just as she gets into her car, Jackson slips inside his.

Instantly, a hand curls around the nape of my neck. “You okay?”

I don’t answer his question, mostly because I don’t really hear it. My mind is wholly occupied by the hand gripping the steering wheel. “Why are your knuckles all red?”

The epitome of calm, Jackson shrugs. “He tried to stop them from leaving.”

“So you him?”

“I told him to leave them alone. It’s not my fault he didn’t listen.”

I blink at him. In the backseat, Ma blinks at him too. We make eye contact in the rearview mirror and for a brief moment, we simply hold each other’s incredulous gazes before Ma bursts into laughter. Practically doubled over, she claps Jackson on the shoulders and gives him a shake. “Oh my God, I would’ve paid to see that.”

Me, I have a different reaction. Some part of me is laughing. Some part of me thought those exact words.

But most of me is thinking, feeling, doing just one thing.

Jackson frowns at me as I get out of the car. He keeps frowning through the windshield as I round the hood of his car, and then through the driver’s side window as I pull open the door. He stops, though, when I lean in and wrap myself around him as best I can. “I love you so much right now.”

“Yeah,” Ma agrees, shooting me a careful but wry grin. “What she said.”

Jackson must be able to tell that I don’t want to go home because after we drop Ma at her hotel, he starts towards his place without a word of discussion.

Grateful for the change of location as I am, it makes me a little uneasy. I haven’t been there since we got back together, the couch incident notwithstanding. I’m not in the headspace for the guys or the girls or the questions; I just want to go to bed.

And again, I question Jackson’s mind-reading abilities because when we pull up outside the house and I take a second too long to get out, he regards me with a soft, knowing smile. The hand gripping my thigh moves to undo my seat belt before snatching up my handbag. “No one’s home.”

Relieving information, yes, but I still exit the car with some hesitance. “I don’t have my stuff.”

More than I want a bed, I want a shower. I want to cleanse myself of this fucking day. I want to use my silly overpriced shower gels and lather my hair in a mask and brush out all the knots that have surely formed from countless times raking my hands through my hair in frustration.

A warm hand settles on my lower back and urges me up the driveway. “You have stuff here.”

Just for a single step, I falter. “I do?”

“I didn’t throw anything out.”

Why, oh why, does such a simple thing as him not throwing out a few ragtag bottles of toiletries cause such an ache in my chest?

Sniffing quietly, I hug his arm to my chest and follow him inside, not letting go until we’re in his room and he has to physically shake me off with a chuckle. He disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of the shower turning on has my skin prickling in anticipation.

The cold bites at me as I strip off, leaving everything in a pile on the floor but the steam already filling the bathroom warms me quickly, hot water presumably cranked up to the max, just how I like it.

Crouched in front of the sink, Jackson rifles through the cabinet underneath. He hums a satisfied noise when he finds whatever he was looking for, rising with his haul and setting it down with a flourish. “Think that’s everything.”

A myriad of junk messies the counter.

junk, all the little knick-knacks I left here on the off-chance I craved a very specific fragrance of body butter or the hair ties always littering the bottom of my handbag suddenly disappeared or if I stayed over longer than intended—which I always did—and needed contact solution and my spare bottle of medication. “You kept this shit?”

Lips graze my bare shoulder. “I kept all your shit.”

“Why?”

“For when you came back and started using it all again.”

Hands land on my hips and guide me into the shower. It feels like all the energy literally leaves my body as the hot spray hits me. I would probably crumple to the floor if an arm wasn’t banded around my waist, holding me upright. Fingers begin combing through my hair and I lean into the movements, yet another sigh escaping me. Jackson brushes my hair to one side, kissing the bare skin revealed. “Tired?”

“Exhausted.”

Gentle kisses move to my jaw. “You wanna talk about what happened?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Jackson chuckles against my skin, and I can’t help but turn my head to capture the noise. He kisses me back way too gently for my liking. I wriggle in his grip until I’m facing him, linking my hands behind his head, nipping at his bottom lip, trying to encourage him, but he maintains his annoyingly slow pace, countering my frustrated groan with a laugh.

Pulling away, he pecks the corner of my mouth. “Stop tryna seduce me. I just wanna kiss you.”

“That’s boring.”

Another laugh, and a hand claps down on my ass. “Tough shit.”

Ignoring my whine of protest, he spins me around. I hear the sound of him popping open a bottle before his hands are on me again, all soapy and slippery this time. He coasts them over my stomach, up my sides, carefully avoiding all the places I want him until I’m squirming.

When a noise of disappointment rumbles in my chest, I feel his smile against my neck right before two large hands suddenly cup my tits, squeezing just enough to have my stomach clenching. His thumbs flick over my nipples, making me gasp, as his teeth catch my earlobe.

One hand continues teasing while the other heads down, trapping itself between my thighs as he cups my pussy. “I haven’t been inside you in seven months, Luna,” he rasps in my ear. “Call me selfish but when I fuck you again, I wanna be the only thing on your mind.”

A groan rips from my throat as his fingers tease but they’re gone before I get any real action. I groan again, for different reasons, as he goes back to washing my hair like he said nothing at all, leaving me conflicted over whether I want to fuck him or murder him.

My pout is short-lived, gone before it’s truly formed, chased away by a whisper against the curve of my neck. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

Turning in his arms, I coax his face out from where he’s attempting to hide it in my collarbone. I take my time dragging my gaze over his features, relishing in having him so close, so personal, again. I note the shadow of vulnerability in warm eyes, and it urges me to recite my own words from what feels like so long ago, even if repeating them scares the shit out of me, “You respect me. You protect me. You stick up for me. And you’re very, very nice to me. Even when I don’t deserve it.”

With every word, Jackson straightens. His face brightens.

brightens, every inch of him, and I greedily soak up the glow. “That’s a very long way to say ‘yes.’”

“I think you deserve the long way.”