Ashley
When I was fifteen, Jackson Moore came swaggering into my life
and swept me up in a whirlwind summer of marathon make out
sessions and whispered promises. We had three short months of
happiness and then he was gone. Off to New York to make
something of himself while I stayed behind and became something
I don't recognize. Now, eight years later, not only is he back, but
he's also my boss. I never thought I'd see him again but now I
spend every day beside him. My body remembers him as if time
never separated us. As if life never changed us. As if he's still my
bad boy, protecting me, pulling me close while he raged at the
world. Except time did separate us and life did change us. No
matter how much my body yearns for him, Jackson Moore isn't
mine anymore.
Jackson
When I was nineteen, I told Ashley Thompson I would save her
from the world. I drew her to me, feeling big and powerful, drunk
on youth and the certainty I had it all figured out. But life has a
way of making a liar out of you. Eight years later I come back and
find my sweet and gentle girl watching me with a wary eyes, her
mouth set in a grim line. She used to be something warm and sweet
in an otherwise cold world, but now she's just another small town
tragedy. I came back to make a better life for my daughter, my
four-year-old surprise, but my world shifts on its axis the moment
I see Ashley. I don't have room in my life for anyone else, but
there's no stopping me from trying to make room. I don't care how
muc h life there is between us, Ashley Thompson is mine.

Chapter One
I love romance. I mean, I love romance. I'm a sucker for long walks on
the beach and deep, soul-baring conversations. The kind where you
lean in and stare into each other's eyes and lose the rest of the world for
a little while. Give me hand holding and love notes left in silly places.
Give me inside jokes and sweet nicknames. I'm all over that kind of
stuff. Just thinking about it makes me light up from the inside out.
Of course, my boyfriend Cain doesn't have a romantic bone in his body.
He's such a typical guy he might as well be a cliché of himself. He can't
even remember to leave the seat down, let alone think about getting me
a card for our anniversary.
Which was last week, by the way. Five years. Go us. I guess after all
this time, it's a little much to ask that he gets all dreamy-eyed over
celebrating our relationship. This is real life after all, and we aren't the
stars of the latest Nicholas Sparks movie. It's just... You know...
Five years is a really long time.
Oh, well. Such is life with Cain Holt, the one-time quarterback of Bliss
High School's varsity football team who now works second shift
stocking a warehouse in the next town over. For now, anyway. All of
his

jobs seem to be temporary lately. I started working extra shifts at
Fantastic Sam's, the bar and grill where I work in the little strip of shops
we call downtown here in Bliss, South Carolina. If Cain's on the fast
track to unemployed again, I fully intend on fattening up our savings
account ahead of time. Especially if he keeps spending every last dollar
we bring in on video games.
I'm not thinking about any of that tonight, though. I'll push those
thoughts away and file them under 'To Worry About Later' because
there's no way I'm letting anything get in the way of finally getting to
have a little fun. Not tonight. It's my one night off this week and Cain
promised he'd put down his controller long enough to take me out for
some grown up time.
"You expect me to take you out in that?" Cain couldn't look more
disgusted if he had stepped on a slug. Barefoot.
I look down at my outfit, my stomach twisting into a familiar set of
knots. "I thought you loved this skirt."
"Maybe ten pounds ago." He un-pauses his game and starts mashing
buttons, muttering curse words at the screen.
My jaw drops and I bite back a venomous remark. The last thing I want
is to have a bad night with an irritated Cain. It's way less trouble to put
on a new outfit than deal with him if he's going to be in a mood. "You
want me to change?"
"I'm already tired of waiting on your ass." Click, click, click go the
buttons on his controller. Cain sucks in his lips as he concentrates on
whatever it is he's blowing up right now.
"It's not that big of a deal. I'll be really fast."
He glances at me and the clicking and clacking of the button mashing
stops for a fraction of a second. A huge explosion blasts through the
sound system and the words 'You Died' float across the screen.
"Fuck!" Cain throws the controller onto the coffee table and it clatters
against the Mountain Dew graveyard he's planted there, knocking
several over.
Of course, wouldn't you know, one of those cans was still mostly full.
The soda rushes out across the table, circling the all-important,

limited edition controller he stood in line for hours to buy.
Worse—although if I said anything about it Cain would just roll his
eyes—the five year plan I'd spent days drafting, my all-important 'Plan
to Be More Than a Waitress', was hiding under the mountain of trash
from Cain' s latest video game marathon. As if all the grease stains and
bits of food dried onto it wasn't bad enough, now it's drenched in
Mountain Dew, the ink fanning out and fading like a drenched
watercolor painting. My heart sinks, but that's what I get for leaving it
out, I guess.
"Don't just fucking stand there. Get a towel and clean this up." Cain
flares his hands and shakes his head at me like he can't believe how
stupid I am.
I scurry into the kitchen as my stomach continues its best imitation of a
pretzel. All I want is to have a nice night on my one day off this week. I
hate it when he talks to me like this, but I'd rather just fly under his
radar so maybe we can salvage the evening rather than say anything
that might really set him off.
Piece by piece, I pluck empty food wrappers and soda cans out of the
drippy mess and deposit them into the trash bag I grabbed when I got
the towel from the kitchen. My five-year plan is completely ruined. The
soaked paper tears when I try to pull it off the table. It's okay, I guess. It
probably wasn't a very good plan, anyway. Cain always says I don't
have any skills outside of waitressing, so I don't know what I thought I
was going to do. When the table is finally cleared of all the trash, I mop
up the mess and then wash down the table with a damp rag so it's not a
sticky disaster when we get home.
"Alright." I pop up and give him my best and brightest smile. "All
done. You ready?"
Cain sighs. "So, you're not going to change?"
I open my mouth to reply, but he just grabs my arm and pulls me
towards the door.
"Fuck it," he says as I stumble a few steps behind him. "Let's go."
It' s humid tonight and the breeze coming in off the ocean feels like it's
going to bring rain with it. Cain stomps down the sidewalk from our
apartment door to his car and flops into the driver's seat while I lock up.

The wind blows my hair into my face and the tips whip my eyes,
making them water and sting. I run a hand across my forehead to
smooth everything back into place while I try to keep my makeup from
running. Of course, the moment my hand is gone, the wind blows my
hair right back into my eyes again. It kind of feels like my relationship
with Cain. No matter what I do to keep things the way they should be,
everything keeps ending up right back the way they were. Stuff out of
place and me hurting a little.
"Where are we going tonight?" I ask as I slide into the passenger
seat.
The moment I close the door, Cain throws the car in reverse and backs
out of the parking space. "Fantastic Sam's." He won't look at me.
As he jerks the car in gear and we lurch out onto the street, I struggle to
get my seatbelt on and keep my mouth shut. Of course we're going to
Fantastic Sam's. It's my one day off from work. You know, where I'm a
waitress at Fantastic Sam's. Of course I want to spend my free time
there. How very thoughtful of Cain to think about my needs like this. I
inhale deeply through my nose and slowly let the breath out through
my mouth. There's no point in getting upset. It won't change anything.
In fact, it would only make things worse. I'm a firm believer that life is
what you make of it and tonight, I choose to make it happy.
We get into Fantastic Sam's without anything else going wrong. Aria,
one of the other waitresses who knows just how excited I was to spend
tonight anywhere but here, raises her eyebrows as we take a seat. I beg
her with my eyes not to say anything when she comes over to take our
order and risk a quick eye roll in her direction while Cain busies
himself with his phone.
"Welcome to Fantastic Sam's," she says, her voice dripping in sarcasm
and sugar. "Have ya'll been here before?"
I take the menu she offers me even though I have the whole thing
memorized. "No." I shake my head and smile. "This is our first time.
What' s good here?" Cain glances up and I try to catch his gaze, but he
drops his focus right back down to the phone in his lap. Tap, tap,
tapping away on yet another text.
Aria bites her lip and stares, waiting for him to acknowledge the

fact that she's here. When he never does, she turns back to me. "You
guys eating or drinking tonight.'
"Both," I say with a wide smile. "Right babe?" I love the nachos here
and have been craving a margarita since I decided not to care that we
were heading into the place I work to celebrate my day off.
Cain looks up and purses his lips. "Bring her a salad and a Bud Light.
I'll take a Long Island and a basket of wings." His attention goes right
back to his phone.
Aria turns to me. "A Long Island and a basket of wings for him. What
can I get for you, sweet stuff?"
Cain looks up, but neither of us bother to acknowledge him.
"I bet you can't guess what I want." I bite my bottom lip and lift my
eyebrows, smiling. "I only rave about them every time I have to put an
order in."
"Fiesta nachos?" Aria's eyes light up. "And a margarita, right? The
bigger the better?"
I' m about to reply when Cain pipes up. "Like she needs the extra
calories." His words are a slap to the face and all the fun falls right out
of the evening. It doesn't matter how much I try to be positive, this
night has gone right from challenging all the way to absurd with each
new thing Cain lets out of his mouth. Who talks to the person they love
like this? Who talks to anyone like this, love or not?
Aria whirls on him and I can tell from the rat-a-tat-tat of her voice that
she's letting him have it. Me? Not only is this twisting, twirling mess of
rage tangling with embarrassment and self-doubt rushing through my
veins and roaring in my ears, but I've also just caught sight of someone
coming out of the manager's office in the back of the bar.
Someone who is not Sam, the red-faced, rotund man who owns the
place. Someone who is much taller and leaner and better looking than
the good-natured Sam Beauchamp. Someone who looks very, very
familiar.
Oh. My. God. That's Jackson Moore.
The guy who came swooping into Bliss for his senior year of high
school. The guy who stole my fifteen-year-old heart the summer after
he graduated, whispering sweet nothings into my ear and kissing me so
deeply I have yet to catch my breath. The guy who took my virginity in
a

whirlwind summer of first love and self-discovery only to disappear off
to some crazy stock broker's wet dream on Wall Street. My mouth falls
open.
When did he get back into town and what is he doing in Sam's
office?
He's filled out since he left. At nineteen, he was lean and wiry—his
body more focused on growing up rather than out. Back then, he was a
lot too tall and a little too thin. The years have certainly been kinder to
him than they have to me. His shoulders are broad now, his arms thick
enough to test the limits of his cotton t-shirt. And his jeans? The
lighting is dim in Fantastic Sam's but that doesn't keep me from
noticing just how well they hug his ass. He turns, sees me staring, and
after a second of surprised disbelief, smiles and starts towards me.
Cain is glaring at Aria and must have totally missed my reaction to
seeing Jackson. Which is good. There's no way I could have explained
away the blush that's flaring across my cheeks right now. No way to
explain the way my lips parted when I saw him. The way my breath
quickened and my eyes lit up. They say you never forget your first love.
I thought they were wrong. Until now.
Jackson saunters up to the table in that unforgettable swagger of his.
God, how I swooned over him passing me in the hallway at school. I' d
clutch my books to my chest and lean against my locker, unable to tear
my eyes away. His smile hasn't changed one bit. It's bright and his eyes
are the same devastating blue I remember from that summer eight years
ago. He comes right up to me and leans down for a hug like there hasn't
been an entire lifetime between then and now. His arms wrap around
my shoulders and his cheek presses to mine.
The past and present collide and it's so jarring I may not ever be the
same. He smells like puppy love and sunshine. Like long days stretched
out on the beach, kissing and talking and kissing some more. My body
responds instantly, my heart jumping up and down, clapping in
excitement like a little girl getting a pony for her birthday. Meanwhile,
my stomach twists and complains, a little old lady wringing her hands
in worry. Cain's not going to like this.

"If it isn't Ashley Thompson. How are you, Sunshine?" Jackson
straightens and his voice is at once exactly as I remember it and totally
changed. It's deeper, richer, a little more gravelly and wise than I
remember. He glances at Cain, whose eyes are bulging out of their
sockets while his face turns a violent shade of red. "Or did you get an
upgrade on the last name?" Jackson asks, raising an eyebrow at my
boyfriend's obvious distress.
Cain won't look at him because he's got his sights set on me. This is not
going to go well. I smile right at him as if I'm oblivious to the rage vein
pulsing at his temple. "Nope," I say sweetly, flashing Jackson my
unadorned left hand. "At least not yet."
"I'm sure it's only a matter of time." Jackson pauses, waiting for Cain to
acknowledge him. His eyebrows draw together. "A man would be a
fool to do anything but treat you like a princess."
He stares right at Cain as he says it and even I flinch at the undercurrent
of threat in Jackson's voice. Back when we were in school, Jackson
made his point with his fists. He didn't grow up here in Bliss where
everything moves at a snail's pace complete with a friendly wave and a
smile. Where he grew up, you either learned to punch first and punch
hard, or you learned how to heal up quick from black eyes and broken
noses.
Sensing disaster, I try to divert the conversation. "What about you?
Last I saw, you were married and had a little baby girl?" Maybe, if Cain
knows that Jackson is very much involved with someone else, then the
jealousy that has his nostrils flaring will settle down and hopefully go
away.
"Who the fuck are you?" Cain asks Jackson. Or, maybe not.
Jackson furrows his brow again. "I'm a friend of Ashley's from way
back. Jackson Moore." He extends his hand to Cain with a smile on his
face and a warning in his eyes.
"How about this, asshole. You back the fuck off because it's not 'way
back' anymore." Cain actually makes air quotes for emphasis and I try
not to cringe. "It's now," he continues, placing his hands flat against the
table. "And in the now, she's mine."

He sounds like such a Neanderthal. I'd be embarrassed if I wasn't
terrified. The conversations at the tables around us have quieted, as
have the clinks and clanks of people eating and drinking and having
fun. Great. Now we get to be the story everyone tells about the assholes
who locked horns over a pretty girl at the bar.
"As long as she's yours and she's happy." Jackson starts to turn away,
let's his gaze linger on mine, and then turns back to Cain. "But you
better treat her right. Ashley Thompson deserves to be treated like a
fucking princess." He gives his full attention to me. "We should catch
up sometime."
I open my mouth to reply and am interrupted by the clash and clatter of
a chair hitting the hardwood floor as Cain launches himself to his feet.
"Nope." He puts his hands on Jackson's chest and shoves. It's not lost
on me—hell, it's not lost on anyone—that Cain is the one who stumbles
back. Jackson's wide stance has him rooted to the floor. "You'll stay the
fuck away from my girl."
He might as well be a Pomeranian yapping at a Doberman. As Sam
comes lumbering out of the office, I sink into this weird combination of
outrage and embarrassment. Who the hell does Cain think he is,
treating me the way he's been treating me and then thinking he has the
right to go all jealous and possessive when an old friend turns up and
shows me a sliver of kindness?
As Cain pushes Jackson again and Sam starts yelling at him to settle
down, his already reddened face going a disturbing shade of purple as
his jowls quiver with the force of his words, I make a decision. I will
never feel like this again.
Never.
Cain Holt will either learn to treat me better or he'll learn how to clean
up his own spilled Mountain Dew. I'm so tired of feeling like this. I' d
rather figure out how to live on my own than deal with his shit
anymore.

Chapter Two
"Ow! Daddy! You're pulling!"
I pause with the brush halfway through Georgia's hair and let go of the
long section I'm trying to wrangle into a pig-tail. It falls down over her
face and eyes like a cloud of silken sunshine. She's got her mother's
hair—so blonde and so fine it might as well be angel dust.
"Sorry, Bug. Maybe no piggies today?"
Georgia nods sagely, looking way older than her four years. "It's okay,
Daddy. We can try again tomorrow." Damn if she doesn't pat my arm
and smile at me like I'm the child and she's the adult being patient while
I figure things out.
You'd think after a year of being the only one in charge of raising this
little person, I'd have figured out how to do her goddamn hair. I can
analyze the stock market and see trends weeks before anyone else, but I
can't for the life of me figure out how to handle my daughter's basic
grooming needs. But seeing as how it just finally started to grow in last
year, you can go ahead and color me a novice on the whole pig-tail
front.
I drop a kiss on her forehead and meet her eyes in the mirror. So many
of her features come from her mother, but there's no denying those eyes
are mine. So many different shades of blue upon blue, she might as well
have the whole fucking galaxy in there.
"Grab your shoes, kiddo."

With a quick nod, Georgia lumbers down off the step-stool, clutching
my arm for balance. Poor thing is more than a little awkward, growing
faster than her body can keep up with. That's another thing she got from
me. She's tall and thin. Almost too tall and too thin right now. She takes
off down the hallway, her heels thumping heavily on the hardwood
floors in that awkward way of hers.
"Daddy?" she calls to me from her bedroom as I put away the hairbrush
and slide her step-stool under the counter in her bathroom. At her
request, I painted the walls in here a vibrant purple. She picked out a
zebra print bathmat and shower curtain with matching towels. We
found these giant decals of hot pink ladybugs that we've plastered all
over the walls. It's a neon explosion of pure girliness and it's one
hundred percent Georgia.
"Yeah, Bug?"
"It still echoes in here." Her little voice comes tumbling down the
hallway with her following right along behind it. "I know."
Our apartment in New York wasn't small by any stretch of the
imagination but this house is palatial. It's my cousin Ian's. He owns a
lot of rental properties along the beach here in Bliss and is letting us
stay in this one until I decide how to move forward. I've got the money
to buy enough stuff to fill this place up, I'm just not sure I'm ready to
call Bliss home again. I'm also not sure I'm ready to leave again either,
so today I have a meeting about a potential investment that could set me
and my Bug up really fucking well. If I decide to stay.
There's a lot of money to be made on Wall Street, especially if you have
a knack for trading. Which I do. But New York City is no place to raise
a child. At least not the way I want to raise mine. But I want to provide
a good life for her. Which means I need to make a lot of money. Which
I can definitely do in the city. But will life there make my daughter too
hard?
And around and around I go. My own personal merry-go-round of
self-doubt. My desire to give Georgia the best possible life keeps me
tangled in a set of constant contradicting thoughts and questions. Love

wrapped in worry and covered with bed time stories and big sloppy
kisses.
I watch her struggle to tie her shoes. That left hand just can't get things
figured out. Google says a lot of kids can tie their shoes at four, but that
girls often take longer to learn and it can be as late as six before they're
really doing it on their own. Every time I watch that left hand work, I
remind myself that Google says she's fine, but my gut keeps telling me
that something's wrong. Her right hand is awkward, but that left hand?
She uses it almost like she's wearing a mitten, grasping things between
her thumb and a big clump of her fingers. I coach her until we both lose
patience and then I tie them for her. I like to think she's making
progress, but I'm really just fooling myself. She's ages away from being
able to do this on her own.
"Come on, Bug." I grab her bag off the floor and reach for her
hand.
"Can we get a shell?" She looks so vulnerable as she gazes up at me, its
an arrow of fatherly feelings so big I can't name them all straight to the
heart.
She likes to bring a little something from home with her when she's
nervous and ever since her first visit to the beach just off our back
porch, she's been obsessed with shells. We've only been in Bliss for just
under a week and Georgia has never left New York City before. While
she's had her fair share of nannies and babysitters since her mom left
us, she's not always good at meeting new people. My aunt and uncle,
Frank and Diane Moore, are watching her for me while I'm at my
meeting. The Moores are great people. Some of the best I've met. But
Georgia doesn't know that yet.
"Of course." I hold open the door as she scurries out under my arm. "I
wouldn't let you leave here without one."
We scour the beach for the perfect shell and she asks me to leave a kiss
in it before sticking it in her pocket. Never quiet when it's just the two
of us, Georgia chatters away during the short drive to my aunt and
uncle's, talking about the ocean and the sky and the birds and the heat.
It' s September and when we left New York, fall was just starting to
make itself known in the chilled air and yellow-tinged leaves. Not so

here in South Carolina. The heat and sun are still going strong.
As I pull into the Moores' driveway, a slow smile spreads across my
face and I couldn' t stop it if I wanted to. I spent the best year of my life
here, just as enthralled with the heat and the sea as Georgia is now. It
was also the hardest year of my life, but it changed my trajectory. I'm
better off for the time I spent living with my uncle and my cousins. The
same can't be said of my older brothers who never got a chance to see
how good life could get.
Fear holds Georgia back from going inside at first, but Aunt Diane
pulls off a fucking miracle. She manages to transform my Bug from a
trembling little slip of a thing clinging to my leg into the giggling goof
I know she is in under five minutes with little more than a silly story
and a stick of gum. I get my hug goodbye and head towards downtown
Bliss without the little rope of worry I wear around my neck whenever I
leave my daughter with someone new.
I take the time in the car to think through how I want to handle this
meeting. Sam Beauchamp, the owner of Fantastic Sam's, the only bar
in all of Bliss, is ready to slow down. He's getting older and has some
health issues and wants to sell the place. Assuming it's profitable
enough and I'm really going to stay here and put down some roots, I'm
in the mood to buy. But I need to be sure there's a potential for profit
that will not only provide a good life for me and Georgia now, but will
also support me into my golden years. I chose to dress casually today
because that's just how people do things here in Bliss. I think I'll keep
my attitude casual as well, lots of smiles and small talk until I decide
what kind of man Sam is.
I park in the little lot beside the bar and take a deep breath as soon as I'
m out of the car. There's something special about the ocean air.
Something fresh and alive and way the fuck better than the smog and
urine-scented sidewalks of New York. I didn't realize how much I've
missed it until I showed up last week.
The sun has started its descent towards the horizon, casting long
shadows across the sidewalk and street. A few cars pass by and an older
woman steps out of one of the shops, pausing to wave when she sees
me notice her. As I smile and wave in return, a car pulls up in front of

Fantastic Sam's a few feet ahead of me. The passenger door swings
open and none other than Ashley Thompson climbs out, leaning back
into the open door to say something to the driver. Her shorts are so
short and, with her bent over like that, the view is nothing if not
amazing. I shake my head and smile, a flood of memories fighting for
importance. Ashley Thompson.
One of the reasons my year here in Bliss was so amazing. We only
dated for a few months, a summer fling before I left for NYU. She was
too young for me. Too sweet and gentle, but that had a lot to do with
why I wanted her so much. She was fifteen and just starting to grow up
and I was nineteen and had grown up too fast. Her innocence intrigued
me. I wanted to take it and protect it all at the same time. She looked up
to me, trusted me, asked me questions about life and it made me feel
like I had something to give her. She was the first person to make me
feel like I mattered.
Ashley straightens, frowning as the driver takes off before she even
finishes closing the door. I stare into the windshield, trying to see if this
is the dickhead she was out with last week and lo and behold, there he
is. I' m almost disappointed in her for settling for someone like him.
She's better than this. So much better. The driver slows as he passes me,
leaning over so he can stare me down like he thinks he's hard enough to
intimidate me. I smile and wave because nothing pisses off an asshole
like that more than someone being nice. The guy stomps on the gas and
spins his tires before catching traction and zooming off to wherever it is
he' s going.
Ashley stares at me, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She
waves, just a little twiddle of her fingers, as the wind catches her long
blonde hair and sends it dancing around her shoulders. She's still
beautiful, but she's gotten lean and hard and wary and it makes me want
to swoop her up and tell her everything will be okay like I used to when
her parents would spend the whole night fighting and throwing things
at each other. Of course, turns out I was lying back then and I'd
probably be lying now, too. Life has a way of erasing all things sweet
and kind. You either get hard or get hurt. From the way Ashley holds
herself, I'd say it's been a little of both for my sweet Sunshine.

"Hey stranger," I say as I draw up beside her. "It's a little early for a
drink."
She adjusts her purse on her shoulder and smiles up at me. "I work
here." She indicates the brick face of Fantastic Sam's with a little jerk of
her chin. "What's your excuse?"
"I might be working here, too." I pull open the door and gesture for her
to enter.
She looks up at me as she passes, her brows crinkling in confusion. "At
the bar? Aren't you a big stock broker on Wall Street now?" There are a
million questions floating in her eyes, but she doesn't ask them.
"How do you know that?" I ask jokingly, desperate to put the light back
in Ashley's smile, right where it belongs. "Have you been stalking me?"
The lighting in the bar is dim and it takes my eyes a second to adjust.
The place is definitely small town, there's no getting around that. But
Beauchamp did something right because the atmosphere manages to be
warm and trendy without being too lofty for the locals. I can see a few
places I'd like to make some changes, but it's clear why this place is as
successful as it is.
Ashley shakes her head. "I may have stalked your Facebook page more
than once." She shrugs and tilts her head in that adorable way of hers. "I
wanted to see how the other half lives once they leave the little people
behind."
"And what did you see?"
"That you made quite a life for yourself out in the big city. Fancy
apartment. Beautiful wife. A little baby girl." Ashley meets my gaze
and sighs. "But then you stopped posting so I had to make up the rest.
You've had quite a year, what with being such an upstart in the rodeo
circuit and all."
"Rodeo circuit?"
"Yeah." Ashley leans against the bar. "After dominating Wall Street,
you decided to take up cow wrangling." She grins and it's as wide and
goofy as I remember. Just the way it should be.
"Sure. That's exactly what happened." I shake my head and laugh a
little.
"Hey." She lifts her eyebrows and gives a little quirk of her head,

those blue eyes twinkling. "You're the one who left the last two years
up to my imagination. I can't help it if I liked the thought of you being a
cowboy."
She laughs and the sound reaches down into my gut and pulls up a
million memories of the time we spent wrapped up together. The few
times in my life I' ve been genuinely happy and carefree were almost all
centered around Ashley. I have the strangest urge to touch her, to see if
her skin is just as soft as I remember it, but after eight years, Ashley
might as well be a stranger.
The front door opens, letting in a long slice of white-hot sunlight, and
Ashley's gaze darts to the entrance. Her eyes go hard and the life drains
from her face and she doesn't look like my Ashley anymore. "Sorry,"
she murmurs and races over to stand next to her boyfriend. He grips her
arm and pulls her close, spitting words at her as he shoots dangerous
looks in my direction. I sigh. So, not only is he an asshole, but he' s got
jealousy issues, too. Noted.
If things were different, I wouldn't mind seeing if the chemistry
between Ashley and me is still there. See if we could rekindle the fire
that burned so hot and so bright between us eight years ago. There are
just so many reasons why it's a bad idea. Let's forget the fact that she's
dating Captain Rage over there and I have a little girl who needs and
deserves all the spare time I have to give. If I stay here, I'll be her boss
which is not the ideal way to start a relationship. And if I don't stay? I'm
not sure either of us could survive being torn apart again. The first time
was bad enough. Besides. After what happened with Georgia's mom,
my little Bug is the only girl for me.
I do my best to ignore the spectacle Ashley's boyfriend is creating
purely for my benefit. When Sam Beauchamp comes waddling out of
the back to shake my hand, I turn my back on them and walk away,
vowing to leave my feelings for Ashley Thompson in the past.
If I can.

Chapter Three
The last few weeks have been one hell of a ride. I can't even begin to
get a grip on all the ups and downs of it all. First, Jackson Moore is
buying Fantastic Sam's. There's so much info to digest in that one little
item that it's enough to keep my head spinning from the moment I wake
up to the moment I go to sleep.
Two days after I ran into him outside the bar, Sam announced he was
selling the place to Jackson. With Sam's ailing health, no one's
surprised he wants to step down and have less to do every day. What is
surprising is the fact that Jackson is the one buying the place. I never
thought I'd see him again. And oh how my heart broke after he left. I'm
not exaggerating when I say it took me years to recover. I gave him my
heart, my body, my soul. When I needed someone to save me, he was
there, running his hands through my hair and telling me everything was
going to be alright. He was so confident, so assured, I believed him.
My parents weren't happy together. Honestly, by the time I reached my
teenage years, I think they hated each other. They fought all the time.
Every night. I would curl up in bed and bury my head in the blankets,
humming to myself to cover up the hateful words they hurled at each
other. Some nights it got so bad that words weren't the only things that
went flying. Shoes. Ashtrays. Whatever was in range at the time.
When I met Jackson, he was brand new to town and so very strong.

He had this aura of confidence that permeated the space around him. I
craved him, the sense of protection that wrapped around me every time
he came near. As our friendship grew, he became a safety net. He made
it a habit to show up at my window each night to check on me. Some
nights I was fine, but most nights I needed the reassurance of his arms
around my shoulders, his words whispering against my skin.
"It's okay, Sunshine," he'd say. "I've got you." And, for the short time
he was here, he did.
I was a fool to believe he was a permanent fixture in my life.
As the new owner, Jackson has been here at the bar every single night.
Sometimes he's locked in the office with Sam, but other nights he' s
been out on the floor or behind the bar trying to get a feel for how
things work. Which is really great. Under normal circumstances, I'd be
thrilled to know that my new boss is this engaged and so determined to
do a good job. Fantastic Sam's is iconic here in Bliss. It's the only place
to go to have a good time and it should be a relief to know that the new
guy isn't going to ruin everything.
But, seeing as how I work six days a week, his dedication has meant a
lot of unadulterated time with Jackson Moore. And here's where the
confusion sets in. I'm supposed to be in love with Cain, but every time I
pass Jackson, my heart stutters and my veins might as well be carrying
an electrical current. And let's just say we happen to touch—which has
happened so many times I'm starting to think it's intentional on his
part—well, all it takes is one hand on my arm to turn my insides to jelly
and my brain to mush. I blush and drop my eyes. I smile and feel warm
on the inside for the first time in a long time. I don't know about you,
but that sounds a whole hell of a lot like love to me.
When did I turn into the kind of person who lusts after another woman's
man?
I' m the lowest person on this earth because not only am I in a long-term
relationship, but Jackson is married. If I found out Cain was feeling this
way about another woman, the betrayal would crush me. Things
between us may not be great, but we made a commitment to each other.
One that shouldn't be broken until we aren't a couple anymore. That's
just the way of it.

This week with Jackson though, it's put a lot of things into perspective.
Like, I don't remember the last time I felt anything but awful around
Cain. While excitement floods through me when I get to work and see
Jackson, I dread the moment Cain walks into the bar to pick me up.
There's so much hate and rage in his eyes and my stomach twists up in
knots whenever he's around. It makes me wonder if I ever felt all warm
and tingly around him. I don't remember what it felt like to fall in love
with Cain. Not the way I remember falling in love with Jackson.
A couple nights ago, I sat next to Cain while he muttered curse words at
the TV and mashed buttons on his controller and I really, honestly, took
a look at my life. At the coffee table littered with empty beer and soda
cans. At the broken TV stand—collateral damage in one of Cain' s
tirades after losing a game. The pile of dishes in the sink and my
upcoming shift at the bar. Cain called in to work that day, but I knew
before I left that the dishes would still be waiting for me when I got
home. The worst part of always finding the bright side of things is that
some pretty fucked up shit can happen and all you do is smile your way
through it. I got so caught up in the habit of putting one foot in front of
the other that things went from bad to worse without me ever noticing.
As I watched his lips twist and contort while he focused on his game
that night, I realized that I didn't love him. That I never really had. In
that moment, I realized that we're over. That we've been over. The
realization that I was ready to leave him came with such a flood of
relief that tears welled up in my eyes and coursed down my cheeks. I
sat there staring at him, crying at the realization that there was nothing
left between us, and he didn't even notice.
Of course, the details of me actually leaving get really complicated.
Not only do I not have a car or any savings to speak of—yay for Cain's
video game addiction, his need for instant gratification, and his
insistence that all my money go into his bank account—but I'm also
really worried about how Cain will take the news.
He's always had a problem with anger. He's never, ever hit me, but he
has hit the wall. The doorframe. The TV. He's thrown stuff across the
room and smashed his fist through our old glass coffee table. When he

gets like that, I get scared. Fear is a funny thing. It doesn't listen to facts
and reason; it just grabs hold of an idea and runs with it. Even though I
have no concrete reason to believe he would hurt me, I'm fully aware
that there' s a first time for everything. On top of that, Cain gets in these
moods where all he can talk about is wanting to die. In fact, more than
once, he's told me that if I ever left him, he'd kill himself. That'd be it
for him. He'd be done. Life. Over.
I never know how to react when he says that. I always just smile and
tell him not to be silly while internally rolling my eyes at his drama and
filing the statement away under Reasons to Be Afraid of Cain Holt.
Now that I've finally decided to leave, all those reasons have resurfaced
and I' m frozen. Stuck between my need to get out and my
ever-growing certainty that one of us will end up hurt when I finally sit
him down to say what I need to say.
Today, however, is not the day. I've got a shift at the bar in a couple
hours and I'm cleaning up the house as best I can so there's not a mess
waiting for me when I get home. As I pluck a few cans out of Cain' s
trash garden on the coffee table, my phone starts buzzing in my pocket.
Cain pauses his game and glares at me as I dig it out and show him the
caller ID. It's work and I hold my breath, hoping it's Sam on the other
end and not Jackson. I accept the call and put it on speakerphone, as per
Cain's request.
"Hey, Ashley. It's Sam." I try not to show how relieved I feel to hear his
voice because Cain's watching me like a hawk. "I had a shipment come
in early. Can you come in early and help unload?"
I send him a little mental note of gratitude for saying I instead of we and
shoot Cain a questioning look. He nods his permission and I inwardly
cringe to recognize that this is a thing that's happening in my life. That
I have to get his okay to go to work. He drives me in and the silence
between us is both welcome and sharp enough to take my breath away.
I' ve never been so glad to see him drive off.
When I get inside, Jackson smiles. His eyes meet mine and it's like I
can breathe again. "Thanks for helping out, Sunshine."
I smile in return and duck my head, unnerved by the contrast between
here and home. Between the car ride and now. Between Cain

and Jackson. I throw myself into the job, determined to keep my focus
on the task at hand rather than letting my thoughts drift to how sexy
Jackson looks in his jeans and t-shirt. I shouldn't be noticing how well
he wears his clothes. I shouldn't be falling into his eyes. I shouldn't be
walking near him, hoping for tiny moments of contact as his arms brush
mine.
But I do all of those things, anyway.
It' s heavy work and today is unseasonably warm. Sweat trickles down
my back and in between my breasts as I carry a big box of whatever it is
Sam and Jackson ordered into the storage room.
"Here silly," says Jackson as he comes out of the manager's office and
catches me breathing hard. "Let me take that."
"I've got it. It's not too heavy." That's a bald-faced lie. It's very heavy
and my arms got tired about five boxes ago.
"I know you can get it. That doesn't mean I can't help." Jackson takes
the box out of my hands and his fingers brush mine. I'm way too aware
of the momentary contact and my body goes into high alert,
remembering so many nights of his skin on mine.
God, I was so young and so in love and so totally brainwashed by the
idea of true love and soulmates. I swore he was my one and only. Hell,
I spent hours writing my first name with his last name. Ashley Moore. I
roll my eyes at the silly girl I used to be. I think I'll just stay Ashley
Thompson, thank you very much. The last couple years with Cain
haven't exactly sold me on the joys of forever.
"What is this stuff?" I ask, surveying the bar with all the boxes stacked
on the tables. I wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my
arm, surprised by the dirt and grime on my skin.
"You'll laugh at me." Jackson pulls out a chair and sits down.
"Try me."
"Nah." He widens his legs and shifts in his seat, thrusting his hips
forward to get comfortable. My eyes go right to his dick before I have
the good sense to look him in the face. By the way the corners of his
lips pull up, he saw me look and he liked it. "You'll just have to find out
like everyone else."
Blinking away my embarrassment, I tilt my head towards my

shoulder. "Since when have I ever been like everyone else?"
Jackson purses his lips and makes a face like he's considering the
validity of my statement. "That's true. I don't think anyone could ever
get away with calling you normal. I mean, just the other day you
admitted to imagining me as a cowboy. What self-respecting adult says
stuff like that?"
I want to punch him in the arm just like I would have in the past. I can't
remember a time when he wasn't teasing me for all the crazy things I
said or did.
"Oh, come on. You love the way my imagination works. Admit it."
"I wouldn't change a thing about you, Sunshine." He smiles at me and
there's a look as old and familiar as this conversation burning in his
eyes.
His gaze captures mine and my lips part. I can't get a full breath and
every single thought in my head just evaporated in the nuclear blast of
whatever it is that I' m feeling right now. I clear my throat and wipe my
hands on my pants before wandering over to inspect one of the boxes.
"Spill it, Moore. What is all this stuff?"
Jackson runs a hand up into his hair, rests his head in his palm, and then
peeks up at me through his eyebrows. "I'm planning a Halloween party.
Here at the bar. To celebrate me buying the place. Let people get to
know me a little and show everyone that there's nothing to worry about.
Fantastic Sam's will still be the best place to spend a Friday night." He
laughs and finishes running his hand through his hair before sitting
back in the chair. "It's a dumb idea, isn't it?"
"Are you kidding me? It's a fantastic idea. Is there a theme? Are you
gonna do costumes? Ohh!" I clap my hands together, giddy with
excitement. "Will there be prizes?" The idea of a Halloween party is
almost more than I can handle.
Jackson chuckles, smiling at my enthusiasm. "Honestly, I don't know. I
just had the idea a couple days ago and ordered some decorations and a
whole shit load of extra liquor. I've got a few weeks to get it all sorted
out." He slaps his hands on his thighs and stands. "We need to get a
move on if we're going to get these put away in time to open. You ready
to get back to work?"

"You bet your sweet ass I am."
Jackson twists and looks over his shoulder, down at his own butt. "It is
pretty sweet."
We spend the rest of the afternoon getting all the boxes opened and
unpacked in the storage room. Judging by the mishmash of items
Jackson purchased, he's a long way from making this party into
something memorable. He's got a lot of liquor, which is great. Some
absinthe, which I'm kind of excited to try but I'm not sure the rest of
Bliss will feel the same. The rest? It's just a bunch of weird decorations
and Halloween themed snacks.
After getting the bar put back to rights, I take a moment to clean myself
up. No one likes a sweaty waitress and I can't handle a night of bad tips
because of the stink factor. Not now, not while I'm trying to figure out
how to leave Cain. Aria arrives in a cloud of flowers and coconut, her
dark hair framing her face. She smiles and waggles her eyebrows at
Jackson's ass as he bends over to pull something out from a low shelf
under the bar.
"So. Hot," she mouths, fanning herself. A surge of jealousy clamps my
lips together while guilt chases right along after it, pointing its finger at
my traitorous heart. I have no right to feel possessive of Jackson. None
at all.
And that' s the last moment I find to stand still long enough to have one
clear thought for the rest of the night. The entire town of Bliss must be
here and I think each of them brought at least three out of town friends.
A typical night at Fantastic Sam's is busy, but I can't remember a time
when we've been this busy. I had no reason to worry about my tips.
None at all.
Cain shows up around eleven and sits at a table in my section the rest of
the night, throwing back way too many rum and Cokes. If he's not
smiling at his phone, texting back and forth with someone he
apparently finds hilarious, he's glowering at me as I fly around the
room, balancing trays laden with food with an expert precision only
another waitress could appreciate. I make it a point to avoid Jackson.
I don' t look at him.
I don' t stand near him.

I even go the long way on my treks back and forth from the kitchen to
the tables so I don't accidentally walk past him.
I know Cain's just waiting for a chance to make a scene. All he needs is
one moment of eye contact between me and Jackson to lose his shit.
And considering the amount of rum he's had in the last several hours,
we'd be in for the world championship of shit losing. The last thing I
want is to suffer through that here. In public. Where I'd get to be
humiliated in front of the whole town and their plus three's. Again.
I'm halfway to a table with a tray of too many drinks when I realize I
forgot to grab the ramekin of ranch they asked for. My mind is too
wrapped up around Cain and all his drama to pay proper attention to
what I' m doing. I pivot and change direction just as the guy at table
seven scoots back his chair to stand up. It bangs into my hip and
catches my foot. I lose my balance, dropping the entire tray of drinks
down my chest as I crash and tumble towards the floor.
Of course, Jackson is right there. And double of course, he catches me
before I can hit the ground. And triple of course, my entire body ignites
with the memory of how good it used to feel to be wrapped up in his
arms, transposed over how good it feels right now to be wrapped up in
his arms. His voice is low when he whispers in my ear, just like it used
to be. A moment meant just for us.
"It's all good," he says as he helps me to my feet. "I've got you."
It' s the same thing he said the night he took my virginity, caressing my
face and kissing my lips, his hands tracing lightly over my ribs and
around the swell of my breasts while I stared up at him, falling so
deeply into his eyes I never thought I'd find my way out again. I barely
have time to register the quiver of electricity coursing through my body
before Cain is out of his seat, stumbling and wobbling and pointing in
our direction.
"Get your motherfucking hands off her!" His voice carries through the
bar and people stop mid-conversation to stare, eyes wide.
"Dude," says some guy at one of the tables. "She was falling..."
Cain strides over to us, faltering as the rum destroys his balance.
Jackson still has his arm wrapped around me and instead of letting me
go, he pulls me even closer. "Don't do this, man," he says to Cain.

"You bitch." Cain points at me, venom in his eyes, spittle flying from
his mouth. "Little cunt. Can't keep your legs closed, can you?"
If there are truly defining moments in our lives—times we'll look back
on from our place of age and wisdom and say 'that's when it all
changed'—this is one. I lift my chin. Square my shoulders. Instead of
backing away, I step forward.
"You don't get to talk to me like that."
My voice is clear and even.
Cain leans in. "I get to talk to you any way I feel like."
I shake my head. "Not anymore. Get out of here, Cain. I' m done. I've
been done. I don't want you anymore."
Cain laughs, a gunshot of a sound. "You can't survive without me. You
can't manage one thing by yourself. Where are you gonna live, Ashley?
How are you gonna get to work? You're nothing without me." He stabs
me in the chest with his pointer finger.
I brush it away and take a deep breath. "Leave." That's all he gets. One
word. I'm too afraid I'll fall to pieces if I let anything else out.
His jaw drops open and I've never seen anyone look so ugly in all my
life. "You'll be back." He spins in a circle, addressing the entire room.
"She'll be back, crawling on her dirty cunt knees." He finishes his
circle, lifts both his middle fingers as he stares me down, takes a few
stumbling steps backwards, and then disappears out the door.
What follows is kind of lost to the roar of emotion in my head. I'm
shaking, literally trembling from head to toe, and tears have blossomed
in my eyes even though I'm not even close to feeling sad. I'm so
relieved I can barely breathe. Jackson wraps an arm around my
shoulders and leads me back to the breakroom as people break into
light applause before getting back to their Friday night.
Jackson helps me into a chair and then kneels in front of me. "I'm so
proud of you." He brushes a stray lock of hair out of my eyes. His gaze
drops to my chest before he looks back up, a strange look passing
across his face. "Do you have a spare shirt?"
I' m confused by the question until I look down. The thin white cotton
of my t-shirt is now completely see through, thanks to the tray of drinks
I spilled on myself out there. Not only is the thin, pink lace of my

bra totally visible, but so are my very taut nipples. I cross my arms over
myself and shake my head.
Jackson clears his throat before dragging his own shirt off. "Put this
on," he says.
Now it's my turn to pretend I'm not staring. Jackson's always been
muscular, but when we were younger he was more lean and wiry. He's
filled out considerably since then. His arms and chest are hard and
sculpted and the ridges of his stomach angle down to one of those sexy
V' s at his waistband.
I take his shirt and our eyes meet. It's just a moment, a fraction of a
second, but I swear it's another one of those life-defining things. Then
he blinks and it disappears. A puff of smoke, caught in the wind, there
and then gone. Nebulous and fragile. I turn my back to him and struggle
out of my wet shirt, overly aware of all my bare skin out on display
before I slip on his shirt. It's too big and it smells like him.
"What did I just do?" I ask as I turn back around. There's no denying the
lust in Jackson's eyes but he blinks it away and takes my hand.
"You stood up for yourself." Jackson turns as Aria pokes her head in
through the door.
"Whoa!" Her eyes go wide as she very blatantly stares at Jackson's bare
chest. "Work out much?" She comes into the breakroom without
waiting for him to reply, a tray of tequila shots balanced on her hand. "I
mean, I've heard of washboard abs, but damn." She sets the tray down
on the table and turns to me. "Thought we should celebrate your sudden
and well-deserved freedom. Figured Boss man wouldn't mind." She
plucks a shot glass from the tray and tosses Jackson a questioning look.
He shrugs, hands one to me before taking one for himself, and then we
all clink glasses and throw back the shot.
The liquor burns on its way down and I wish like hell Aria had brought
some lemon slices. "But seriously," I say after wiping my mouth.
"What the hell did I just do? I don't have a car. I don't have a place to
go. The apartment is in his name so it's not like I can kick him out even
though I'm the one who pays the rent."
"That's a good thing, though." Aria offers me an encouraging

smile. "The apartment thing. He can't ruin your credit if it's in his
name." Normally I'm the one looking for the silver lining while Aria
goes into crises mode. Our role reversal is not lost on me.
"Yeah, b u t . " I flare my hands. "Where am I supposed to live?"
Jackson doesn't miss a beat. "With me." He smiles and I cling to the
hope it gives me. "I've got too much space and an empty room with
your name on it. You'll just have to put up with the other woman in my
life."
Shit. I forgot. Jackson is married. "Will your wife be okay with me
staying with you guys until I get on my feet?" His eyes cloud over and I
realize that he probably expected me to turn him down. I shake my
head and sit back. "I mean, I can't impose on you guys like that."
Jackson blinks slowly and I'm too worked up to untangle what I think I
see on his face. "No, no," he says. "It's totally fine. Nothing about you
has ever been an imposition. But I'm not married, Ashley. I was talking
about my daughter."

Chapter Four
Ashley gasps as we pull up to my house. "You live here?" She spins in
the passenger seat, eyes wide, lips parted. "Damn, Moore. I knew you
did well for yourself, but I didn't know you'd done this well."
The moon hangs high, casting glittering lines of silver across the waves
rolling up to the beach behind the house. Palm trees bend lightly in the
breeze and there's just enough light to see the immensity of the place
without noticing it's utter lack of pretention. If I were to stay here, I
could easily see me buying the place from Ian.
"Just how closely were you following me on Facebook?" I wink at her
as the garage door goes up and I pull into the well-lit space. There's
enough room for three cars here, but seeing as how I only have the one,
the garage has as many echoes as the rest of the house.
"I spent a lot of time stalking your profile," she admits as I put the car in
park and kill the engine. "I was proud of you. You weren't exactly on
the fast track to success when we first met. You pulled a total
one-eighty. You got out of here and made a life for yourself instead of
getting stuck."
This little flame of pride blooms in my belly and I watch her as she gets
out of the car and surveys the cavernous garage. My dick twitches,
seeing her in my shirt, remembering the moment when she turned away
to change in the breakroom. That intimate glimpse of her back, made
all

the more tantalizing by the fact that I know what it is to touch that skin,
to run my hands up from her ass, across her shoulders, and into her hair.
Ashley quirks her head to the side and lifts her hands in question, a
smile lifting the corners of her lips. I've just been sitting in the car,
staring at her, thinking thoughts so inappropriate that my dick has gone
completely hard. She wanders around the front of the car and knocks on
the window.
"You okay?" she mouths.
Oh, yeah. I' m fine. Just hard as a fucking rock.
I open the door and she steps back as it swings open. "It's not mine," I
say, pausing with the door between us to give my dick a chance to calm
down.
"What's not yours?"
"The house." "Did you steal it?"
"Yep. Killed the guy that lived here. Don't mind the bloodstain in the
foyer." And, there we go. I am now officially erection-less.
Ashley rolls her eyes. "And you call me weird."
"It's the truth though. Not the murder stuff, but the house? It's my
cousin, Ian's."
Understanding dawns on her face. "He owns a bunch of rental
properties now, doesn't he?"
"Yep. He was cool enough to let us stay here until I decide how long
I'm staying."
Her brows furrow again and that weird hardness darkens her face. I
don't remember anything dark or hard about Ashley Thompson. She's
always been the first to laugh, those bright eyes dancing with
merriment. I hate this new look and I want to make sure she never has a
reason to make it again.
Just then the door to the house swings open and Aunt Diane sticks her
head out. "You need any help out here?" Her gaze goes from me,
standing in my garage without a shirt, to Ashley, and then right back to
me again. I've never seen Aunt Diane not know what to say. It's
absolutely hilarious.
Recognition blossoms across her face. "Ashley Thompson?" Aunt

Diane takes a few steps into the garage and then stops, her gaze
bouncing between Ash and me again, gauging the distance between us,
the fact that she's obviously wearing my shirt, the fact that I'm standing
here without said shirt. Aunt Diane knows our history. I can only
imagine what' s running through her mind right now.
Ashley smiles and gives her one of those girly waves, where she just
wiggles her fingers and grins. "Hi."
Diane shakes her head. "You silly thing, don't you stand there and wave
at me. Get over here and give me a real hug."
While my aunt leads Ash into the living room, I head upstairs to grab a
shirt, stopping to peek at Georgia along the way. She's tucked into bed,
curled up tight hugging her teddy bear against her thin chest. I brush
her hair back off her face and gently press a kiss to her forehead.
"I love you, Bug," I whisper before pulling her blanket up to cover her
tiny body. Fatherhood blindsided me. I was so not prepared for this.
Not at all. Georgia's mom and I had just started dating and when she
told me she was pregnant. Even though we weren't even that serious
about each other, she was adamant that the child was mine. I hadn't
even considered something as committed as calling her my girlfriend,
let alone something as permanent as bringing a whole person into the
world. But the moment she told me, I knew exactly what I needed to
do. If this woman was going to be the mother of my child, well then
damn it, I would do the right thing and marry her.
I had it all figured out. I was on fire at work and had more than enough
money to support us in the city. The trajectory of my career said money
would just keep flowing into my accounts. I had myself a beautiful
woman with enough drive and ambition to rival mine. And then, to top
it all off, a baby. A family of my own. A chance to prove I wasn't like
my dad. That I'd learned what I could from my uncle and was ready to
reap the rewards of my hard work. I'd come through the meat grinder
that was my childhood, passed through that one idyllic year here in
Bliss, and come out a better version of myself. I honestly thought I had
finally worked hard enough and been through enough shit that life
decided to cut me a break.
Fucking hell was I ever wrong.

The only good thing that came out of those years with Meredith was
Georgia. My little Bug. She's given me a purpose. A reason. Everything
I do is for her and even though I work my ass off to do what I think is
right, I' m always certain I' m failing her.
Ashley's low laughter comes lilting up the stairs, followed closely by
my aunt' s honey-warmed voice. Those two always got along so well.
Almost too well. It's dangerous for them to be unsupervised
downstairs. If I don' t get down there quickly, Aunt Diane will have
Ashley filled in on the last eight years of my life. Which is fine, I guess.
I don't mind Ashley knowing about my life, it's just my story to tell.
Not aunt's. I grab a shirt without really paying attention to which one it
is and sprint down the stairs as I pull it over my head.
"Thank you so much for watching Georgia again for me tonight," I say
as I come around the corner.
"Of course." My aunt smiles. "We had a great time. We went for a walk
on the beach and collected some more shells. She had one in her hand
when she went to bed, just so you're not surprised if you see it in the
morning. She wanted you to leave a kiss in it."
Ashley's cellphone vibrates in her purse. She must have gotten
forty-five texts in the ten minutes it took us to get home. It's none of my
business really. None at all. I have less than zero claim to Ashley
Thompson anymore, but every time that damn phone buzzes in her
purse, I get madder and madder. This profound surge of protectiveness
rises up from deep inside me, something so primal and powerful I've
only ever felt it for my Bug before.
I meet her gaze as Aunt Diane goes about gathering her things. Just as
my desire to protect her grows with each new buzz of the phone, so
does the stress on her face. Her brows get tight, her jaw clenches. Her
arms wrap around her stomach and it looks like she's trying to fold in
on herself.
Watching her hollow out like this, I make Ashley a silent promise. Hell,
it's not just for her. The promise is also for me. I will protect this
woman. I will bring her back to life. I will remind her how to smile like
the light is coming from deep within her very soul.
My aunt pulls Ashley into a hug. "It's really good to see you

again."
"You too, Mrs. Moore." Ashley clings to my aunt. This isn't a friendly
hug between old friends. This is a girl in need of a lifeline. Clinging to
one of the few people in her whole life who ever gave her a reason to
feel safe. According to Ashley, there's only been one other person in
her whole life who made her feel that way.
Me.

Chapter Five
I' m not always at my best when I first wake up. My dreams are full and
vivid and I sleep so soundly, the first hour or so of being awake is hard,
like I've got bubble wrap taped around my brain. Like I'm trying to
think through mud. Today, though, is its own special brand of weird.
Not only do I not immediately know where I am, but there's a little girl
sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring at me with her arms folded
across her chest. I blink and smile, trying to look friendly. The little girl
frowns.
"Who are you?" she asks.
I push up onto my elbow and rub a hand over my face. "I'm
Ashley."
The little girl nods like that explains everything. "I' m Georgia. My
daddy said I shouldn't wake you up."
"Well, it's a good thing you didn't then, isn't it?"
"I was real quiet and didn't move even a little." Georgia looks so proud
of herself, it's adorable. Her blonde hair wisps around her face, thin and
staticky and in need of a good brushing. Those eyes, though. Those are
Jackson's eyes, no doubt about it.
I plop back down onto my pillow and blink at the ceiling, the details of
where I am and why I' m here finding their way through the bubble
wrap, tape, and mud. My phone is on the nightstand, the notification
light blinking. A flashing accusation and reminder that my life is now
completely upheaved and that I'm only here because Jackson

managed to be there for me when I needed him the most, just like he
always has been. Some things never change, I guess.
"Daddy's making pancakes," says Georgia, oblivious to the torrent of
confusion forcing me awake.
"Oh, yeah?"
Georgia nods. "He said 'nana pancakes can make anyone feel better."
She tilts her head to the side. "Is your tummy upset?" "No."
"Do you have a booboo?" I smile. "Nope."
"Why do you need to feel better, then?"
I swipe my phone off the nightstand and pull up the notification bar.
One hundred and two text messages and fifteen voicemails. Fuck. I
swipe away the notifications. Cain doesn't deserve a chance to say
whatever it is he thinks is so important. He used up all his chances with
me.
The bedroom door bumps open and Jackson pushes through, balancing
a tray laden with plates and a cup of coffee that smells so good, a choir
of angels might as well be singing to me from the heavens above. Or
maybe that' s because Jackson is wearing nothing but a low slung pair
of sweats that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Oh, man
am I ever a sucker for bare chests and bare feet.
"Daddy!" Georgia wiggles off the bed and throws her little arms around
his legs.
"What are you doing in here, Bug?" he asks as he works a miracle by
managing not to spill the entire tray on his daughter's head. "I thought I
told you not to wake her up."
"I didn't." She looks at me, mostly hiding behind Jackson.
"Right?"
I nod and push myself back up to a sitting position. "That's right. I
woke up all on my own." Jackson notices the phone in my hand and
grimaces.
"Did you sleep well?" He perches on the edge of the bed. "I made you
breakfast," he says almost sheepishly. "I figured no one could wake up
to breakfast in bed and not smile at least a little."

The phone feels heavy and out of place, like it's holding onto all of
Cain' s anger and jealousy. I put it back on the bedside table just in time
for it to buzz again, the notification light blinking away. I take a long
breath in through my nose and close my eyes as I let it out. For
someone who doesn't function at full speed for at least three hours after
waking up, this is a lot to take in during the first ten minutes of the day.
When I open my eyes, the first thing I see is Jackson, looking
absolutely delectable, his face pinched with worry and a
self-consciousness I don't remember ever seeing in him before.
"There," he says to Georgia. "What did I tell you?"
She grins at her dad like he's the wisest soul in all the world. "No one
can frown at a 'nana pancake."
I didn't even know I was smiling.
"Come on, Bug. Let's let Ashley eat and we'll get your hair taken care
of."
She frowns at him. "Promise you won't pull?"
Jackson shakes his head and laughs as he stands. "I make no such
promise. You go on and get everything ready. I'll be right there."
"She's adorable," I say after she scampers off, her arms flailing out
from her side as she runs.
"She has her moments." The look on Jackson's face is pure adoration.
"I' m sorry she woke you."
"No need to apologize. I think I was already mostly awake." My phone
buzzes again and even though I refuse to look at it, Jackson glares at it
like it might be the reason I'm so groggy. Which it very well might
be.
"That been happening a lot?" His jaw is tight.
I nod, his anger spinning up a cyclone of worry in my stomach.
"Have you answered yet?"
"He doesn't deserve an answer." I pick up the coffee and take a sip.
"Maybe I'll reach out when I need to get my stuff. Or maybe not.
Maybe I'll just show up when he's at work and empty my closet."
Jackson rubs a hand along the back of his neck and peeks up at me
through his eyebrows. "I'm glad you're here."
"Me too."

Although I wonder if he'd feel the same if he knew all the inappropriate
thoughts I keep having.
With that, he sweeps out of the room, calling for Georgia like he
doesn't know where she is. Her laughter echoes down the hallway as I
dig into the breakfast he made me. He's right, it's hard not to smile at a
banana pancake. It's no surprise that Jackson is a good dad. None at all.
That man came with a protective streak a mile wide, pre-installed at
birth I think. He shared it with me from the very moment we met, but I
don't think many people ever get to see it. At least not here in Bliss.
Back then, most people knew him as the quiet, new guy who spoke
with his fists.
He was always different with me. One day, wrapped up in Jackson's
arms and staring up at the sky from under the bleachers at school, I told
Jackson about my parents. Little whispered admissions that became a
full on confession. That night, he showed up at my bedroom window,
knocking softly on the glass. I let him in and he held me, and
everything about what we were to each other changed.
As I eat and my phone continues to buzz at me with an incessant mix of
texts and phone calls, I listen to Georgia and Jackson bantering in the
bathroom. He sings to her and she sings back. Well, when she's not
squealing in pain.
"You promised you wouldn't pull!"
Jackson replies, and although his voice is too low for me to make out, I
hear stress in his voice. Carefully, I lift the breakfast tray and slide out
of bed, padding down the hallway towards their voices until I find them
in what's clearly Georgia's bathroom. There's not a single picture on
any of the walls in this house. The place might as well be vacant for the
total lack of decorating. Except this room. It's been freshly painted a
deep purple with hot pink ladybugs spotting the walls. There's a fluffy
bathmat with matching shower curtain and towels. Even the trashcan
matches. I bet the only other room that's this put together is her
bedroom.
Georgia's standing on a step-stool, staring at herself in the mirror while
Jackson wrangles one half of her hair into a lopsided pigtail. "I've
almost got this piggy in, Bug."
"This is officially the most adorable thing I've ever seen," I say.

"You standing in a purple bathroom, all tough and muscled, struggling
to make a decent piggy."
Jackson shakes his head. "I don't know why it's so hard."
I look at the mess he's created out of his daughter's hair. "I don't either.
Want me to give it a go?"
Jackson hands me the brush and backs up. "Be my guest."
Leaning around her, I pretend to study Georgia's face, pursing my lips
and tapping my cheek with my finger. "What do you think? High or
low?" I ask her. "I think you'd look the most adorable with them right
here." I point to a spot on her head and Georgia studies her reflection.
She glances at her daddy who shrugs and flares his hands before she
nods her agreement. Her hair is still coming in. It's thin and wispy and I
can see why he has such a hard time with it but I will never let him see
that. Careful not to tug and pull, I get her hair up.
"Piggies! " she squeals, shaking her head so her hair bounces. Without
another word, she climbs down off her step-stool, taking extra care to
gauge the distance to the floor, and then takes off out of the room.
"You have no idea. You probably just made her year."
I open my mouth to reply but Georgia comes racing back into the
bathroom, hitting her shoulder on the doorjamb and kind of stumbling
into the room. She has a shell in her hand that she brings up to her lips,
makes a big show of kissing it, and then presses it into my hand. There's
a moment of a shy smile and then she's gone again, a streak of blonde
hair and sunshine.
"Wow." Jackson folds his arms over his chest and leans against the
wall. The bathroom suddenly feels small with just the two of us in it.
"You got a kissy shell. That's a really big deal. You don't even know."
"Oh believe me. I know." I try to pull it off like I'm totally cool, but I'm
so not. I'm trying not to stare at his chest, which means my only other
option is to fall into his eyes.
"Oh yeah?" Jackson steps towards me. "You do?"
I nod because there's no way I could use my voice.
"What do you know, Ashley?"
His question confuses me because he keeps getting closer. He's way up
in my personal space and I can't stop staring at his lips,

remembering the way I used to feel when he pressed them against
mine. What do I know? I know I want him to kiss me and I know I want
it more than anything even though I also know it's a terrible idea.
He reaches out and I tilt my face up to his, desperate for his touch even
if it is so completely wrong. My eyes start to close and I soften my lips,
so very ready for his kiss.
"Thanks for helping with her hair," he says, taking the brush from my
hand and stepping past me to put it in one of the drawers.
Oh. God.
Kill me now.
I imagined it all. Jackson never intended to kiss me. He just wanted to
put his daughter's brush away. His daughter who's right around the
corner in the other room.
Fucking hell.
I am such an idiot.
Mumbling something that probably makes very little sense, I rush out
of the room and throw myself onto the bed, scream soundlessly into the
pillows, and then pluck my phone off the table to wade through the
texts from Cain.

Chapter Six
Fuck me. What kind of an asshole am I? Ashley just broke up with her
long-term boyfriend and I' m ready to molest her in the bathroom where
my four-year-old little girl could walk in at any time. I lean on the
counter in Georgia's bathroom and meet my eyes in the mirror, waiting
for my dick to settle down before I push off and check on Bug.
Get a hold of yourself, Moore. Feel free to drop the Chester the
Molester act at any time.
I pass the guest room on my way and can't help but peek through the
door. Ashley is sitting on the bed, cross-legged, hunched over her
phone and wearing the same clothes she had on last night.
"Hey you," I say, putting a hand on each side of the door frame and
leaning in.
Ashley glances up from her phone and her cheeks turn a bright red.
"Hey." Her voice is soft and sweet.
"What do you think about going to pick up your things today?"
Her eyes go wide and she drops them to her phone before dragging
them to meet mine. "I' m not ready to face him."
I can only imagine the kinds of things he said to her in those texts.
"I get that. But I'm thinking that it might be a good idea to rip off the
bandage, you know? Just get in, get your stuff, and get out. No
lingering." I smile. "Plus, I might want that shirt back sometime."
That's

a lie. I love seeing her in my clothes. She can wear one of my shirts
every day and I wouldn't complain.
Ashley looks down at her phone and sighs heavily. "That all sounds
good in theory, but he's kind of lost his mind right now. I don't know if
me being there is a good idea at all."
"Does he work today?"
"Even if he was on the schedule, he won't go in. He doesn't need much
of a reason to call off work."
I don' t like seeing her afraid of this guy. My instinct is to drive her over
there and walk in and punch the asshole in the face. That's what he
deserves for being a whiny, manipulative little bitch. But, seeing as
how I'm a dad now and getting hit with assault charges isn't exactly
being the kind of role model my Bug deserves, I need to opt out of the
whole ' giving him what he deserves' deal. Plus, Ashley is the one who
needs to take the power back in this relationship. She needs to stand up
to the jerk for her own psychological well-being. The only one who
feels better if I go in fists flying is me.
"Come on," I say, stepping through the door. "Let's get your stuff."
Ashley shakes her head. "I'm not ready. Not even a little."
"Yeah you are. Have you forgotten how strong you are?" I reach a hand
out to her. "Because I haven't."
She studies my hand for a few long seconds. It feels like I'm trying to
coax a wild animal into trusting me. I stay calm and patient and still
until she finally lets her breath out in a rush and unfolds her legs.
"Okay," she says as she takes my hand. "But I can promise you this will
be ugly. Do you think your aunt will watch Georgia so she doesn't end
up emotionally traumatized by what she sees?"
Turns out, Aunt Diane is basically running a daycare today. Over the
course of the morning, all my cousins have called to ask if she could
watch their kids. While my aunt couldn't be more thrilled to get
Georgia over to meet them all, I' m not so sure how I feel about it. My
Bug hasn't had a whole lot of opportunity to play with other kids. While
I think it would be really good for her to start making some friends, I'm
not sure I want her to make a lot of strong connections here if we're not
going to stay.

But Ashley is right. If there's any kind of scene today, Georgia doesn't
need to be there to see it. Battling down my reservations, I thank my
aunt and tell her we'll be there soon. When we get to my aunt and
uncle's house and Georgia sees all the kids in the yard her enthusiasm
obliterates the rest of my worry. She bolts out of the car as soon as she's
unhooked from her car seat, leaving her kissy shell behind.
Ashley is quiet on the way to her apartment, chewing on her fingernails
and staring out the window. Mother Nature put on one hell of a show
for us this morning, with the sun reaching down from its spot in the sky,
touching the sea and sending a shower of sparkles out over the waves. I
don't think Ashley's even seeing it though. Her mind is a million miles
away. I follow her directions to the apartment, in awe to find the roads
so wide open, so empty they're almost abandoned. Combine that with
the vast expanse of sea and sky and I can't decide if it's unsettling or
peaceful. After eight years of learning the hustle and bustle of the city,
Bliss is one hell of a change.
Ashley sits forward in her seat as I park in front of the dated building
she used to call home. She peers through the windshield, jaw dropped,
tears forming in her eyes. "What the hell?"
Spread out over the little patch of grass that separates the building from
the lot is a massive pile of what used to be clothes and books and other
odds and ends that make up someone's personal belongings. Ashley
struggles with her seatbelt as I put the car in park and is outside before
I've even killed the engine. As she approaches the pile, one hand flies to
cover her nose.
I climb out of the car as Ashley paces and am immediately hit with a
stench so foul it makes me flinch and take a step back. The asshole
pissed and shit all over her stuff. But that's not all. He shredded her
clothes and tore the pages out of her books. Broken pieces of wood
might have once been a jewelry box and the glittering bits of metal
were probably once her jewelry. Nothing in this pile is salvageable.
Nothing.
Color drains from Ashley's face. The hand over her mouth trembles so
hard I'm afraid she's on the verge of passing out. Then she takes one
wavering step towards the pile and I know she's on the verge of passing
out. I grab her shoulders to steady her and she sags into my

arms. Turns into me and buries her face in my chest. "He's such an
asshole," she whispers.
Over the top of her head, I see his moon-shaped face peering through
the window at us, spite and jealousy gleaming in his beady eyes. "Don't
let him see you like this," I whisper into her hair. She tenses against me.
"Show him how strong you are, Sunshine." The urge to press a kiss into
her hair is almost more than I can manage, but now is not the time or
the place for me and my selfish urges.
Ashley straightens and pulls out of my arms. She surveys the pile and
shakes her head. "I truly have nothing." Her voice quakes a little and
she keeps it low enough so the asshole can't hear what she's saying. Her
posture is strong though, and her face is neutral enough to hide the roar
of emotions I see raging in her eyes.
"You've got me," I say before I can think better of it.
A smile pulls up the corners of her mouth. "I guess that's worth
something."
"You better believe it." I want to take her hand but I don't. Her ex needs
to see her standing on her own right now. Not clinging to me. "Besides.
Now you can truly start over. You're building your life from scratch."
"I'm building my life out of nothing."
"Sometimes, that's the best way. Scrap it all and start over."
She looks up at me, fear and excitement mingling in her teary eyes.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me, silly. Just give that asshole the finger already so we
can get out of here."
Ashley grins and does just that, spinning towards the window and
throwing up a middle finger before she loops an arm around my waist. I
lead her back to the car, open the door for her and close it once she's
safely inside. She keeps her shit together until we're about five minutes
down the road then she starts laughing and doesn't stop until she's
crying. I pull over to the side of the road, unbuckle my seatbelt, and
lean across the space between our seats to take her in my arms. It's
awkward, but she doesn't seem to care. She leans into me the best she
can as her breath hitches and gasps.

"I am so screwed," she finally manages. "No money. No clothes. No
nothing."
"That's not true. I meant what I said. You've got me. And I know a little
bit about starting over from less than zero." I run a hand through her
hair. "You're gonna get through this. No. We 're gonna get through this.
You're better off today than you were yesterday."
"How?"
"Because all the shit you were just talking about can be replaced. You'll
make more money and then you can buy new clothes. Before you know
it, you' ll have your own place and all the things you need to fill it up.
That's just a matter of time and patience."
"But how does that mean I'm better off? Just sounds like I've got some
hard times ahead of me."
I nod and go right ahead and press a kiss into her hair. Fuck it. She
needs it and I want it and we can deal with the complicated stuff later.
"Because, Sunshine." I pull back enough so she can meet my eyes.
"Now you can focus on taking care of you. On figuring out who you are
and what you want. That guy? He was busy sucking the soul out of you.
All that material stuff can be replaced. You're what's important here."
"I haven't been happy in so long."
"Well, then. Just think how happy you're going to feel when you've
gotten through this low point." I run my hand along her arm, trying to
be soothing. I'm in such dangerous territory. Ashley is addictive, the
more I get, the more I want.
"Thank you, Jackson."
"For what?"
"For you. For being here, ready to put me back together again."
"I' m just glad I showed up before that asshole broke you completely." I
kiss her forehead, her skin just as soft as I remembered it, and then sit
up. "Now, what better way to celebrate your freedom than a shopping
trip?"
Ashley protests like crazy but she should know better than to try and
talk me out of something once I've gotten my mind set on it. We finally
agree that she can pay me back by helping me organize the Halloween
party. After a quick call to Diane to check on Georgia, I take

Ashley out and buy her enough clothes to get through a week and still
have a few items hanging in the closet in case of an emergency. There's
nothing too fancy in there, but you'd think I just saved a puppy from a
burning building, judging from the way she gushes with gratitude. I
can't even begin to imagine how she'll act when she gets the jewelry
and new Kindle I ordered for her while she was in the dressing room
trying things on.
The next couple days pass in a blur of happiness and laughter. Ashley
has taken over doing Georgia's hair and damn if she doesn't make it
look easy. Bug seems more and more comfortable with Ashley here
and has even started asking for kisses at bedtime. Ashley hesitates at
first, always careful not to overstep the boundaries with my daughter.
I'm kind of at a loss. It's good to see Georgia with another woman, but I
can't help but worry that this is just one more person who's going to
disappear from her life. I always said that if I started dating, I wouldn't
bring Georgia into the mix until I was sure we had something special
between us. Ashley and I aren't even dating and here she is creating a
little space for herself in Bug's heart. It's enough to keep me awake at
night, that' s for sure.
Tonight, Ashley and I are staying late at Fantastic Sam's while Georgia
stays the night with Frank and Diane. While she works with the other
waitress to get the chairs put up on the tables and get the place shut
down, I dig through the papers spread over my desk for the receipts
listing the items I bought for the party. I pretty much just ordered
everything I could find that looked remotely Halloween themed and
figured I'd throw the decorations up on the wall and the snacks out on
the bar and call it a party. Ashley didn't seem pleased with that idea and
promised me she'd turn all this junk into one hell of an event.
Finally, I hear her saying goodnight to everyone else before she pokes
her head through the door to the office. "You ready to do this?" I
haven't seen her look this amped since I got back.
I pretend to stifle a yawn. "I'm pretty pooped. How about we just head
home and do this later."
"No way. We are planning a party tonight, and that's that."
She pulls a chair up beside me and starts going through the lists of

items, jotting everything down on different pages in a notebook she
brought just for tonight. I watch her work, loving the way she pauses as
she thinks, biting her bottom lip between her teeth. Fucking hell. I
would so rather it was me capturing that lip with my teeth. Running my
hands through that hair. Torturing her nipples with my tongue. I've
pretty much been walking around with an erection ever since she
moved in and I don' t know how much longer I can take it. At first I
thought I was the only one feeling the tension between us, but now I
think she's feeling it, too. I keep wondering what she'd do if I kissed
her. Would she haul off and slap me or would she melt into me?
"Earth to Jackson." Ashley leans in close and waves a hand in front of
my eyes. "What are you thinking about?"
"It's a secret." My eyes go to her mouth and my dick presses against the
zipper in my jeans. I'm not going to be able to ignore whatever this is
between us much longer.
Ashley licks her lips. "I like secrets." There's something in her voice,
something heavy and sweet and raw. I drag my gaze from her mouth
and find her eyes hooded with lust. She puts one hand on my thigh and
that's all I can stand. I reach out, press my palm to her cheek, thread my
fingers into her hair, and pull her in for a kiss.

Chapter Seven
The kiss reaches deep down into the very marrow of my bones. The pen
drops from my fingers, totally forgotten, and I run my hands up his
arms, at once so familiar and yet, thanks to the corded muscles and
tendons, not familiar at all. My body responds to him as if we were
together just yesterday. As if there isn't an ocean of time separating
who we were from who we are. As if there was never anyone for me but
him.
Jackson pulls back just enough to part our lips. "I'm sorry," he says and
I want to laugh at him for apologizing for something so beautiful.
"I'm not." I kiss him again, reveling in his taste, his touch, his smell.
My muscles clench and my breath quickens and I need his hands on
me, now. I need him to remind me what it means to be wanted. Need
burns deep in my belly and lust pools between my legs.
Jackson runs his hands up under my shirt, grazing my ribs and cupping
my breasts. I moan into his mouth, already lost to him. "Ashley." He
murmurs my name against my lips, kissing down the curve of my jaw,
nibbling along the lines of my throat.
He's holding back, touching me like he's afraid I might break, like I
might crumble to dust if he moves too fast. I need him to let go. To lose
control of himself and take control of me. To touch me like he used to.
Uninhibited. Wild. Free.
"Take me, Jackson." I slide my hands up his thighs, squeezing the firm
muscle encased in his jeans before I reach the bulge of his cock.

"Don't hold back. Not with me."
"You don't know what you're asking," Jackson says, his voice a low
growl. "I have to hold back." He lifts my shirt and nips and bites at my
nipple through my bra.
"Not with me."
He peers through his eyebrows, his eyes on fire. "I'm purely wicked,
Sunshine. You don't want to go there with me."
I bite my lip and lift my eyebrows. "Try me." I run my fingers into his
hair as his eyes go dark. "We're not strangers. I know you like it rough.
Remind me what it means to feel something."
Jackson stands, pulling me to my feet right along with him. He yanks
my shirt over my head as I fiddle with the button on his pants. Our
clothes fall into a pile on the floor, piece by piece until we're finally
naked in front of each other for the first time in eight years. He's the
most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"You want to feel something?" Jackson takes my jaw between his
thumb and middle finger and lifts my face to his. With his other hand,
he slaps my thigh. "Spread your legs."
I do as he says and am rewarded by his finger dipping inside me,
slicking along my folds, and rubbing ever so gently against my clit. His
touch is nothing more than a whisper and I need more friction, more
sensation. I've missed having a man who knows how to make my body
sing. I quiver and clench in anticipation.
He draws his lazy circles on my clit with one hand while holding my
jaw in place with the other, staring down at me with so much intensity
that I forget the last eight years. Anxiety fades as tension builds in my
core. Nothing else matters because I'm here now, with him, where I
know I'll be taken care of. Where I'm safe and wanted. He'll pleasure
me and leave me begging for more. Sated and starving in the same
breath.
"Are you about to come?" Jackson lifts an eyebrow. I nod, my voice
lost somewhere in my held breath. "Don't you dare come without my
permission." His voice alone is enough to send me over the edge. All
these years, this is what I've been missing. Someone who knows me,
who

takes control of me, who isn't afraid of being a real man.
"Please, Jackson. Can I come?" And just like that, I give into the
pleasure, eyes rolling back into my head.
"No." He pulls his hands away and my gaze snaps to his. "I want to feel
your pussy clench around my cock."
Jackson clears the papers on his desk, sweeping everything to the side
into one massive pile, and then helps me up so my ass is perched on the
very edge. He steps into me and then stops.
"Fuck. I don't have a condom."
"I'm not on the pill." Cain hated the idea of me being on birth control.
Somehow, he thought that meant it would be easier for me to cheat.
Jackson pauses with the head of his dick pressed against my opening,
his eyes on mine. "I guess that means I'll just have to cum somewhere
else." And then he slides into me, stretching me, filling me. I tilt my
head back and moan.
"Shit. You feel so good," I say, my words rushing out all in one long
breath.
"Yeah?" Jackson slides his hips back, so far that his cock comes
completely out of me. "Do you like that?" he asks as he thrusts forward
again.
Sensation decimates my words. He had me so close to coming with his
fingers that I'm about to explode all over his cock. He rocks his hips
into mine, so maddeningly slow that I wrap my legs around him and
press my heels into his ass, urging him to pick up the pace.
"Please," I manage. "I need to come."
Jackson smiles down at me. "All you had to do was ask." He grabs my
waist and slams into me again and again, driving me right on over the
edge. Years of tension and stress evaporate. The world spins and
quakes as Jackson continues his relentless pace. I am nothing and I am
everything and it's like my whole life was leading up to this moment.
Our reunion. Jackson lets go of my waist to tweak my nipple, pinching
and rolling hard. Pain blends with pleasure and I cry out in ecstasy.
"Fuck," growls Jackson. "I'm gonna cum." He pulls out of me. "Open
your mouth."

I slide off the desk and take his cock between my lips. He cums in two
hot spurts, crying out and fisting his hands in my hair. When he
finishes, I pull back and swallow, wiping my mouth on the back of my
hand.
"See?" I ask as I stand. "You're not that wicked." I smile, proud to
prove to him that I' m not a fifteen-year-old virgin anymore.
Jackson threads his fingers into my hair and rubs his thumb along my
cheek. "I told you, silly. Tonight was about you. We haven't even
begun to get into my wicked side."
I think he means to warn me off, but I can't ignore the sexy clench of
lust in my gut. "Yet," I say. "We haven't gotten to your wicked side,
yet."
Jackson gathers our clothes up in one big swipe and hands me the bits
and pieces that are mine. "We'll see about that."
"What? You think you can just love me and leave me?" I pull on my
panties and stand there with my hands on my hips. "I'm worth way
more than that."
"There's no way I could walk away from you, Ashley. Not again."
Jackson lets his gaze wander my body and it feels like I'm coming
home even though he's the one that left. "I'm just saying we'll take the
wicked stuff slow."
My imagination trips merrily away, bringing along all the different
reasons he would consider himself wicked. Images of handcuffs and
silken ropes and blindfolds parade through my mind, chased by darker
images, whips and chains and other such curiosities.
"That's a great name for the event, by the way." I slide on my bra and
chuckle at the disappointed, pouty expression Jackson gives me.
"Huh?" He shakes his head like he's trying to clear his mind. "I'm sorry,
I can't hear you over those perfect tits of yours. They're begging me to
stop you from putting them away."
"Well, here. Let me help you." I pull on my shirt and gather my hair
over my shoulder. "Any better?"
"Oh, Sunshine. There's no way you could get any better." Jackson pulls
me into his arms and kisses me on the lips. I haven't felt this right in a
long time. "Now, what's a good name for what?" he asks when he

pulls away.
"The event. Your Halloween party. We should call it Purely Wicked." I
wait for his reaction, at once certain that it's one hell of a clever idea
and afraid he'll find it an invasion of privacy.
"Fantastic Sam's Purely Wicked Halloween Party." Jackson bobs his
head and makes an appraising face. "I think I like it."
"And every time someone says it, not only will I think of you fucking
me on this desk, but I'll also think of all the things I think you might
want to do to me in the future. You've got my imagination running
wild."
Humor glitters in his eyes. "And now I like it even more."
***
Over the next few days, Jackson and I fall into old habits made new
again. At Jackson's core, he's the same hot-headed teenager I fell in
love with when I was fifteen. His sense of humor still challenges me,
although it's deepened with age and experience. His protective streak
still wraps around me, lifting me up when things get hard, although he's
helping me find a measure of my own strength to rely on. Who we are,
the way we are together, it's only improved with age.
We spend almost every waking hour together, either at the bar or at his
house. If we're not working or planning the party, we're having sex. So.
Much. Sex. Sex in the shower. Sex in the hall. Sex in the garage. So far,
it's all been pretty vanilla, but I swear, I'm going to get him to open up
to me and show me his dark side.
All things in good time, I guess.
At first, we tried to keep things professional at the bar, but that lasted
all of one and a half nights before Aria found us making out in the
breakroom, my body pinned to the wall by his. Now, we just try to keep
our hands to ourselves in front of the customers. Since Cole Bennett is
singing tonight and we've got more customers than tables, it's going to
be even harder to find a quiet moment. But you better believe I'm going
to try. The space between us feels like a new limb, something I'm ever
aware of. The further apart we get, the more stretched that new limb,
the

more difficult it becomes to think of anything else.
Cole Bennett is new to Bliss. He grew up in the next town over, but
moved here when he married Jackson's cousin, Lilah. But if you had to
go off the way people treat him, you would never know he was a
transplant. He's become just as iconic as the bar itself because Sam
invites him to perform once or twice a month.
Cole sits down with his guitar on the little stage in the corner and holds
every person in the place in the palm of his hand from the very first set
of chords. The music takes over. You can see it in the way people tap
their feet and mouth the words. Or close their eyes and sway as he
croons through a love song. His voice is raw and honest and it tugs on
the parts of us that don't have names. The parts that every person
understands on some level, even if there aren't any words that truly do
them justice.
The word sadness does not always satisfy an aching soul and hollow
heart, the long days spent silent and hurting. How can the word love
even begin to encompass the feeling of completion and vitality? The
yearning for connection and the deep sighs and warm glow that come
to life from deep within us.
The front door swings open, interrupting my thoughts. A sea-drenched
breeze tumbles into the space, cooling the sweat gathering at my
hairline and two people stagger through. A man and a woman, his arm
wrapped around her waist and her skirt so short, I get to see she isn't
wearing any underwear when she stumbles on her leopard print heels.
Great. It's never a good sign when people show up here already drunk.
For some reason, they always end up getting rowdy and needing to be
kicked out. The guy drops his hand to his girlfriend's ass and gives it a
slap. She squeals as he brings his gaze to mine.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
It' s Cain.
He leers at me as my stomach drops to my feet. There's only one reason
he's here and it's not because of Cole Bennet. He's here to make a scene.
He didn't get the attention he needed when he destroyed all my stuff, so
he's here to get some attention by ruining my peace of mind. Cain ogles
me as Cole croons away. It's a beautiful song, jarring against

the torrent of ugliness battling through my head and heart. Jackson's
words from last week come back to me.
Be strong. Don't let him see you get upset.
I square my shoulders and lift my chin, ready to spend the rest of the
night ignoring whatever it is Cain tries to pull. It will make him look
bad. Not me. Watching him as he pushes up to the bar and orders a
drink, spewing hateful words first at Aria, then at the girl he brought
with him tonight makes me realize just how better off I am without
him. I mean, I knew I was right to leave him, but knowing and
understanding are two very different things.
I drop off a tray of drinks to a waiting table and start to head over to
check on the rest of my customers when someone grabs my arm.
Expecting Cain, I whirl, surprised to find Jackson.
"It's okay, Sunshine. It's only me." He takes the empty tray out of my
hands and gives it to Aria to take back to the bar. "Dance with me. A
song like this is too beautiful to waste."
"Here? Now?" I look around at all the customers. "But everyone will
see."
"Exactly." Jackson takes my hand. "You're too special to keep secret."
Jackson leads me to the dance floor and pulls me in close, wrapping his
arms around me and cradling me like I'm both precious and fragile. I
lean into him, a surge of emotion too big to be named winds its way
through my body. I melt into him at the same time I catch fire. I flow
around him, water moving over rocks, and yet my spine is straight and
strong. I am centered and I am indefinite, rooted in this time and place,
the space between our heartbeats infinite and fleeting.
If I could fit all of that into one word, if I could cram all the boundless
and immeasurable feeling blossoming inside me into one definite box,
I'd probably call it love. Logic tries to stage a protest, a pitiful thing,
reminding me that Jackson is my boss and that nothing good can come
from falling for my boss. Reminding me that relationships sour. That
love balances on hate and that I'm better off keeping my heart to
myself.
But as we float around the dancefloor, his heartbeat sounding in my

ear, I come upon another moment of understanding. I fell for Jackson
Moore eight years ago and never really managed to get back up.
I love him.
I always have.
A crash interrupts my thoughts. The clatter of a chair falling to the
floor. There's yelling and glass shattering and the music stops. The bar
goes silent, all focus turning towards the madman standing over a
woman, red-faced and wide-eyed.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" It's Cain, towering over his date as she
cowers down into her seat.
Jackson steps out of my arms, towards Cain, positioning himself
between us as my ex-boyfriend continues to yell, his words mostly too
slurred to make sense. The girl sobs, folding in on herself, hitching her
feet up onto the chair so she can wrap her arms around her knees. Her
skirt rides up, exposing her indecency to the rest of the bar.
The moment of stillness and silence is small, just enough time for
people to process the situation and gather their thoughts before the bar
erupts in a cacophony of sound and action. Men close in on Cain, a
surge of protection and duty drawing them in to him while women
move to the girl. Jackson has Cain by the shoulders while I help his
date pull down her skirt.
Cain struggles, spouts another set of curse words as men lead him
outside. Before they get him through the door, our eyes meet. He lifts
his lips from his teeth, snarling like a dog, his eyes feral and wide
before he disappears from sight.

Chapter Eight
The moon rises slowly, drawing itself up from the horizon as if it's
pulling itself out of the ocean. It hangs low and swollen, separating
itself from its reflection as day fades into night. Ashley and I sit on the
deck outside the house we've been sharing. The house that feels more
and more like a home, despite the still empty walls and the echo that
clings to the corners. If I focus on the comfort I feel here with her,
anxiety starts gnawing at my stomach, rats chewing on wires, termites
in the foundation.
This house isn't my home just like Ashley isn't my wife. She's not
Georgia's mom and I have no right to feels as possessive of her as I do.
Cain still texts her obsessively, even though he's made it a habit to
show up at Fantastic Sam's each night with a new woman on his arm.
He's trying to get under Ashley's skin and sometimes it's all I can do not
to grab him by the shirt and drag him out of the bar. The only thing that
holds me back is the realization that what I do reflects on Georgia now.
If we're going to stay here in Bliss, she doesn't need to start her life with
the stigma of being the daughter of a man who can't keep control of
himself.
Besides, the fight with Cain isn't my fight. Ashley needs to stand up to
him for herself. She needs to prove, to both of them, that she's stronger
than she used to be. As hard as it is to keep myself in check, I

know it's the right thing for her. And it's paying off. She's better and
better with each passing day. More and more like the girl I remember
from those sun-drenched memories of the summer after I graduated.
She's quick to laugh and even quicker to smile. So vibrant and willing
to be silly that she lights up every room she walks in. I remember now
why I started calling her Sunshine.
"You think we're ready to start promoting Purely Wicked?" she asks as
she leans back in her deck chair and crosses one ankle over the other.
I study her profile, her slightly upturned nose. The curve of her
eyelashes fanning out from the soft swell of her cheeks. She turns to me
and smiles and it's like a ray of sunshine warming me from the inside
out. A beacon of happiness with a line straight to my dick.
I grab my beer off the little table between us and take a drink. "I think
so." Her enthusiasm is so contagious; I'm starting to think this silly idea
of mine might turn into an actual event.
"I got the posters back from the printers and they look pretty amazing.
I'll hang them up when we get to the bar tomorrow. All the inserts are
ready for the menus. We look like a way bigger deal than we actually
are." She captures her bottom lip between her teeth, staring at me with
no small amount of trepidation.
"What?" I ask, cocking my head to the side.
"You'll think it's stupid."
"Maybe. But you won't know until you say something."
She pauses, opens her mouth and then closes it again. Purses her lips
together and takes a long, hard look at me. She's gone so long having
someone criticize her each and every thought, it's been a challenge
making her comfortable enough to share her ideas with me. I try to be
as encouraging as I can without being overly positive and fake. The
only way she'll overcome the crippling self-doubt is by finding her own
strength, not borrowing mine. If I sit still long enough, she battles
through whatever self-consciousness has silenced her and says what's
on her mind. I consider each word that escapes her lips a victory.
She closes her eyes and inhales. "I thought I might reach out to WDTN
and see if they want to run a story on us. On you." She blinks

and furrows her brow, holding her breath as she waits for my response.
"I love how you're taking the bull by the horns and running with it," I
say, truly impressed by her drive. "There's no harm in asking. Just don't
get your hopes up. I'm not sure the news will be interested in a story as
bland as Fantastic Sam's hosting a Halloween party."
"But see, that's where you need to have vision, my friend." Ashley
twists in her chair so she can lean both elbows on the armrest. Her face
lights up and now that she's found her voice, her fear isn't big enough to
contain her enthusiasm. "You're right. There's nothing interesting about
a bar having a Halloween party. But there's plenty interesting about a
big time New York stock broker coming home to take over Bliss' most
iconic bar and throwing a big ass party to celebrate."
Coming home.
And there's that gnawing feeling again, those damn rats moving in and
wreaking havoc on my stomach. I spent one year here when I was a
teenager. One year out of twenty-eight. Bliss really isn't home. Home is
a dirty suburb just outside Chicago in a little house with bars on the
windows and anger filling up every single one of its grimy little rooms.
Home is the apartment in New York City, where I donned power suits
and expensive watches and worked harder than anyone else to build a
name for myself. Home is hard words and tense jaws. Home is harsh
and dark.
Bliss isn't home. Not for me. I don't belong here.
Ashley sits forward, swings her legs off the deckchair, and reaches out
to touch my hand. "What is it, Jackson? You get weird every time I talk
about you being back."
I swallow and shake my head. There's no way I can explain how
foreign this place feels to me. How out of place I feel here. "It's
nothing." I smile and take a drink. "So, when are you going to call the
news? Tomorrow?"
"Probably." Ash stands and places her hands on the arms of my chair,
swings a leg over my lap and settles herself down, straddling me. My
cock instantly springs to life, very interested in whatever it is she has on
her mind.
"Now," she says, grinding her hips against my growing erection.

"You've done such a good job taking care of me, let me take care of you
a little."
She lowers her lips to mine and kisses me long and hard, taking my
bottom lip between her teeth and gently biting down. I cup her cheeks
with my hands and thread my fingers into her hair. "Just what do you
have in mind?" Ashley has never once taken control like this. I think I
like it.
She pulls back, rolling her hips again. "I want you to tell me why you
get so weird when I talk about you being here." She brings her hands to
my chest, the warmth of her skin seeping through the thin fabric of my
shirt.
"That's not really what I have in mind."
Ashley runs her fingers down my arms, grazing my skin with her
fingernails. She leans forward, kissing along my jaw. "I have a feeling
you'll get used to the idea."
I know she's trying to be playful, but she has no idea how not hot the
answers to her questions are. I can't talk about this stuff and feel sexy.
Not at all. But, then again, I can't ignore how hard my dick is, either.
She has a power over my body that I don't yet understand, something
that transcends logic.
"I want to know you," she purrs.
"You won't like what you find." I murmur the words into her hair,
kissing and licking down her throat, turned on despite the tumultuous
emotions boiling inside.
"I like everything about you." She reaches down between us and
squeezes my dick. "I like this." She kisses my mouth. "I like this." She
taps one finger to my temple. "I like all the stuff I see in here." "You're
pretty amazing, Jackson Moore."
"You say that now." I run my hand up her back and into her hair. "But
you won't feel the same once you know what's inside."
Ashley sits back, frustrated. "Why won't you let me in? Why do you
keep this distance between us?"
I sigh. She wants to know me? Fine. I'll give her a little taste and see if
she chokes on the bitterness. "You call this place my home. It's not. I
don't belong here, where things are nice and simple. I belong

where people are hard and life is harder."
"That's not true," she begins, but I interrupt her.
"My childhood was an exercise in cruelty. The year I spent here after
my parents died was this little blip of happiness in an otherwise cold
existence. It made so little sense to me that it might as well have been a
fever dream. The last eight years have been dedicated to earning my
way back to what I found here."
Ashley crinkles up her forehead. "What does that even mean? You're
here. You don't have to earn anything."
How do I explain to her that Diane and Frank Moore gave me a taste of
something so powerful and addictive and unknown to me that it totally
changed the trajectory of my life? How do I explain the stark difference
between my uncle's family and my dad's family? How can I show her
the ugliness that existed between me and Meredith?
"Being here and belonging here are two very different things."
"Where do you think you belong if it isn't here?" Ashley's voice is
hushed.
"I don't know."
Her gaze roves my face, the light in her eyes—the light I've worked so
hard to bring back—dims. "You're not staying, are you? That's why
you haven't put anything up on the walls here. That's why you aren't
even looking for your own house. You're leaving again." She wraps her
arms around her chest. "But then why did you buy the bar? Why make
such a permanent decision if you think you're going to leave again?"
I watch her for a long time. How did we go from her writhing in my lap
and grabbing my dick to all this frozen distance between us?
"None of that matters." I trail my fingers along her arms. "I'm here
now."
"But it does matter. And you aren't here. Not all the way." She shakes
her head. "I gave myself to you eight years ago. It broke me when you
left." She won't look at me, stares out towards the clear night sky and
the miracle of stars twinkling above the water. "I'm such a fucking
fool."
"Ashley..." She looks so hurt and I hate it. I want to wipe away all

the pain she's ever experienced, wrap her up and keep her safe so she
never gets hurt again. I' m failing her right now.
She makes a move to climb off my lap, to put even more distance
between us. I grab her waist and pull her back down.
She struggles. "Let me go." Her voice cracks and a surge of need rushes
through my body. I don't want to let her go. I didn't want to let her go
eight years ago, but she was too young and I was too driven and now
that I've got her again, I don't ever want anything between us.
"I can't," I say, holding her tight. "I don't want to."
Bringing her gaze to me, so full of hurt and accusation, she goes still.
She wrestles with what to say. I see her start half a dozen sentences
only to discard each and every one.
This is one of those moments. One of those times where everything
hinges on the choice I make. I can feel it in the very marrow of my
bones. I can open myself up to her, show her who I really am and risk
her rejection. I can walk away, leave Bliss and forever acknowledge
that I am fatally flawed and I don't deserve the happiness I have here.
Or I can do nothing and let her walk away from me. Watch her fold
back in on herself and hollow out, transforming our time together into
just another bad thing that happened to her. Another reason for the light
that shines inside her to dim.
I swallow hard and make my choice. "I never really told you about my
childhood."
She slowly brings her gaze back to me, hope softening her features.
"You told me it was the kind of life that taught you to punch first and
punch hard." She lifts her shoulders a fraction of an inch. "I kinda filled
in the rest based off that."
"Yep. I remember telling you that." I inhale deeply. This is it. The
moment of truth. Everything hinges on the very next words out of my
mouth. "I never really told you anything else, though."
She shakes her head, breath held, afraid to move and chase this moment
away.
Something tiny clicks inside me. Like two parts coming together. A
connection I didn't know I was missing, like the first time I held
Georgia, the first time she took my finger in her tiny little fist. I reach
out

and pull Ashley close, snuggle her into me and kiss the top of her head.
I tell her everything.
I tell her about my mom, her thin body and wary eyes. The ever-present
cigarette smoke spiraling around her, twisting and twining with the
hateful words she spewed onto every conversation until I couldn't smell
a cigarette without a visceral reaction in my gut. I was too much like
my father, my very masculinity threatening to her. I tell her about my
dad, a big man with a bigger personality. His vocabulary cobbled
together with words like cunt, asshole, and motherfucker all held
together with more than his weight in cheap beer. What he couldn't get
across with his words, he got across with his fists. My mother and I
wore his scars on our hearts, our souls, and our bodies.
I hated them both and they hated me right back.
I tell her about my brothers, each of them older than me, each of them
capable of remembering a time when life wasn't defined by hatred.
While our life made me angry, determined to claw myself out of the
shithole we called home, it made them sad. They left as soon as they
could. Striking out on their own and never once looking back.
Money was tight. Hell, money was non-existent. Neither of my parents
worked consistently. By the time I was fourteen, I figured out that if I
wanted to eat, I needed to work. It wasn't long before I was lending
them money for groceries. By the time I was fifteen, I started walking
to the store to stock the cabinets myself because they couldn't be trusted
to do it themselves and I was tired of a hungry stomach singing me to
sleep each night.
They died on my seventeenth birthday while I sat at home alone, trying
to figure out if I could afford an apartment and still finish high school.
Dad drank too much and drove them right into a tree. They died
instantly and my life changed just as fast.
Instead of going into the foster system for a year, my dad's brother took
me in. He brought me to live with his wife and his kids here in Bliss,
this small town that, for all intents and purposes, lives up to its name.
"I remember this part," Ashley murmurs. It's the only thing she's said
and it stumbles me. In her silence, I'd almost forgotten she was here.

Could almost believe that I was telling my story to the sea and the stars.
My throat clamps down on the rest of my words, suddenly aware how
bare I am to her. Aware that I' m sharing my deepest, most private parts
and that I don't like feeling this naked.
"This is my favorite part of the story," I say. I run a hand through her
hair and steel myself to continue. I've come this far and there's no way
I'm going to back down now. "My uncle and his family should have
treated me like a stray dog. A ferocious creature, half feral, totally
untrusting and just as untrustworthy. Looking back at who I was, they
should have. But they didn't. They treated me with a kindness that kept
me off guard for a long time. I didn't know what to make of it. I had no
idea how to handle praise and encouragement. But after a few months, I
realized it wasn't a trick. They treated each other the same way they
were treating me. They loved each other. They praised one another.
Laughed at long-standing jokes. Diane left sweet notes for Frank and
Frank made sure she never wanted for anything. And my cousins were
so good, so h a p p y . " I trail off and shake my head. "I hated them for it
at
first."
"That makes sense."
"And then I met you." And here comes the deep down honest stuff. The
part that will either scare her away or draw her to me. "You were this
ray of sunshine. This vibrant, happy little thing. So sweet and pure and
untainted. Even with your family being almost as dark as mine, you
didn't let it ruin you. You were the exact opposite of everything I'd ever
known about life and I loved you for it. Between you and the Moores, I
finally learned the meaning of happiness."
"Then why did you leave?" There's no hint of accusation in her voice.
Just genuine curiosity.
"I sat down and thought up all the ways that my uncle was different
from my father. All the reasons why his family was so much better than
mine. I mean, they were brothers after all. They came from the same
household, learned the same lessons. Lived through the same
experiences. I wanted to know what was so different about my uncle.
What choices did he make that brought him here while my father ended
up where he did? All I could see was the money. Frank Moore grew up

and went to college, got himself a fancy degree. He used his father's
money to better himself. My dad just spent it all on having fun until
there wasn't any more fun to have."
"So you went to New York to chase the dream of a perfect life?"
I nod.
"Did you find it?"
"No." I smile sadly, remembering the fights Meredith and I used to
have in our fancy apartment, spittle flying between us as we screamed
across the granite countertops at each other while Georgia cried in her
room. "Spoiler alert. Money isn't everything."
I run out of words and press a kiss into Ashley's hair, soothed by the
rhythmic rush of the waves lapping up onto our beach.

Chapter Nine
Listening to Jackson talk has been an exercise in stillness. I'm afraid to
move. Afraid to breathe. Afraid to do anything that would remind him
I'm here. That he's baring his soul to me. His words are raw. Honest.
They stumble past his lips. Awkward and unfamiliar. Like he's stuffed
them down deep and kept them hidden, even from himself.
So much of our summer makes sense now. The reputation he got at
school for being a bad boy, for being too quick to hit first and ask
questions later. I always thought I never saw that side of him because
he was careful around me. Different for me than he was for other
people. Like maybe I had reached something inside him and soothed
the parts that hurt. Now, it sounds like he made a conscious choice to
stop living like his father and start living like his uncle. A conscious
choice to be a better man. A conscious choice to put down bad habits
and create new, better ones.
No wonder I fell in love with him.
No wonder I' m still in love with him.
"Are you happy now?" I ask him, wondering about a life marked with
so much sadness.
"Very." He answers without thinking, his voice rumbling in his chest
and his breath whispering in my hair.
"Me too," I say and clamp down on the rest of what wants out of

my mouth.
I love you.
The words almost roll out as naturally as the sun rises in the east each
morning. It's as true as any natural law out there, but we're not ready for
that kind of truth. Not yet and maybe not ever. I can't give myself to
him if he's not going to stay.
My heart thumps away, reminding me it's too late to worry about
giving myself to Jackson Moore. I'm already his. I have been since the
very first time I saw him all those years ago, strutting down the halls in
school with all the swagger he could muster.
There's something beautiful in the intimacy of knowing he trusts me
enough to share those deep down parts of himself with me. He thinks
his truths will scare me away. The fact of the matter is that they draw
me in ever closer to him.
I slide down in the lounge chair, making sure my breasts press across as
much of his body along the way before I find myself crouching
between his legs. Faking a confidence I don't really feel, I undo his belt
and pull open the button on his pants. The zipper slides down as I pull it
open, the sound hidden in the rush of the waves hitting the shore.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" Jackson's voice is low and thick
and filled with lust.
"Rewarding you." I pull his dick out and smile at how hard he is before
I open my mouth and trail my tongue ever so lightly across the tip.
"You gave me what I wanted, now let me give you what you want. "
His eyes, already covered in shadows, go dark. He thinks I'm too sweet
and gentle to handle his truth. He's wrong and I'm going to prove it to
him tonight. I want it rough and raw. I want him to test my limits. I
want him to be the truest form of himself with me so I can be the truest
form of myself with him. I want to open myself up and let him in. If
there's a beast hiding under his practiced exterior, I want to know it.
Personally.
I lick along his shaft and suck the crown of his cock, working him with
my hands. The wind moves in my hair and he shifts, thrusting his hips
up into my mouth. I moan, the vibrations eliciting a gasp of pleasure
from him.

Lifting my head, I wait for him to meet my eyes. "What do you want,
Jackson? Show me who you really are."
Without a word, his hands go to my head. Fast. Hard. He grabs a fistful
of my hair and shoves me down onto his dick, far enough that I have to
relax my throat so I don't gag. He pulls me up by my hair, my scalp
stinging and my inner muscles throbbing with the intoxicating mixture
of pleasure and pain.
"You aren't ready to see who I really am." Jackson holds my gaze.
"Show me."
He slides his dick back into my mouth, rocking his hips ever more
aggressively. I stay still and quiet. Let him take charge. His fists tighten
in my hair and I gasp and gag on his dick even as I feel myself grow
wet. He gets harder in my mouth, his dick straining as he brings himself
closer and closer to coming. I moan again, undone by the thought that
he' s finally showing me his truths.
His hands fall out of my hair and I look up at him, running my tongue in
circles around his tip.
"Stand up." He's firm. In charge. His eyes are electric and energy
courses between us, running like wildfire across my skin. When I'm
standing, he takes me by the hand and leads me inside. We move
through the kitchen and head upstairs, careful and quiet as we pass
Georgia sleeping in her bed. He leads me down the hall and into his
room, closing the door and locking it behind us.
"You have to promise me you won't make a sound," he whispers as he
pulls my shirt over my head.
"I won't."
He grabs my jaw and I flinch. "That was a sound, Ashley." His mouth is
a hard line, his jaw taut.
I smile. I can't help it. This is what I want. What I need. I want him in
control. I want him to draw the line so I know not to cross it. He sees
the smile. I watch him understand it. Watch him start to realize that I
might truly be a match for him, soft where he's hard and hard where
he's soft.
He undresses me almost reverently. Unveiling my body piece by piece
and claiming it in an exquisite combination of pleasure and pain.

He bites at my nipples and slaps my breasts and then kisses me so
deeply that I know I am lost. When he's had his fill of worshipping my
body, when I'm a quivering disaster of sensation, so close to coming
that all he needs to do is breathe on me and I'll fall over the edge, he
pushes me onto the bed and spreads my legs. His tongue touches my
clit and I cry out, only to cover my mouth with my hand. Jackson
doesn't stop, he uses his mouth and his fingers on me and I lose myself.
Starbursts of light shatter around me and inside me as I come undone,
muscles clenching and quivering while I fight for silence. When he's
done, I'm loose and relaxed and as soon as his hands are gone, I'm
craving more.
"This isn't wicked, baby," I say as he climbs up between my legs and
positions himself at my entrance.
"We haven't even gotten started yet." Jackson slams himself into me
and within a few sweet strokes of his cock against my inner walls, I
come again, clamping my hand down against my mouth to stifle the
rapturous shout building up inside me. He slows his pace and I come
down, panting and desperate while he pulls out of me and climbs off
the
bed.
"On your hands and knees, Ashley."
My muscles and tendons might as well be made of jelly, but I do as he
says, eyeing him as he digs through the top drawer of his dresser. He
looks so magnificent, standing there hard and naked in front of me. A
jolt of desire courses through my body. Not just a physical desire, but
an emotional one. A spiritual one. This man is mine as much as I am
his. We may not have admitted it to each other yet, but I feel it deep in
my core, in the very center of who I am.
He shows me what he pulled from his drawer. A bottle of lubricant. I'm
so wet, there's no way he thinks he needs it. Not unless...
My eyes go wide.
"Still feeling brave?" Jackson leans down and supports himself on the
bed so we're eye to eye. "We can stop if you're not ready." He kisses me
and that electric charge hits my body again. I am done for. There's no
way I' m backing out now.

I nod and bite my lip, waiting as he holds my gaze for a few of my
pounding heart beats. He nods once and climbs up on the bed behind
me.

The click of the bottle snapping open is louder than anything I've ever
heard. It's cold and wet as he pours it over my skin, but his hands are
warm as he rubs it over me. He slides a finger into my opening, lets his
thumb graze my clit. My hips buck and jerk. And then his hand is gone
and there's pressure where I've never been touched before. His hands
go to my hips, pull me back towards him. I focus on relaxing, on the
exquisite pleasure of giving something to him I never even knew I had
to give. And then, just like that, all resistance is gone. He slides into
me. Slowly. Carefully. I moan despite myself and he growls.
"So fucking tight," he whispers. "I thought your pussy felt good, but
your ass feels even better." Jackson begins to move, in and out,
stretching me and pushing my limits. I drop to my elbows and bury my
face in the pillow, biting down hard to choke back the scream. I am
nothing and I am everything and I will never, ever be the same. Jackson
picks up his pace, reaches around and massages my clit. A third orgasm
detonates through me as he shudders and thrusts forward, spilling his
seed into me and whispering my name through clenched teeth.
As he pulls out of me, I collapse in a shuddering heap on the bed.
Jackson is at my side in a flash, brushing my hair out of my face and
kissing my cheek.
"Are you okay, Sunshine? I didn't hurt you did I?" There's a sense of
urgency to his voice. A desperation that sets my nerves on edge.
I try to peek up at him, a slow grin spreading across my face. "I am so
more than okay that I don't even have a word for it," I say.
"Are you sure?" Jackson peers into my eyes, looking at me as if he
thinks he can see all the way through me and discover I'm lying. That I
am, in fact, not okay. That he's hurt me, destroyed me in some way.
What he doesn't know, what he probably can't yet see, is that he's
brought me closer to who I really am.
"You call yourself wicked," I say. "But I don't think that's the truth. Not
after tonight." I can still barely string words together to make sense of
my thoughts. Pleasure has liquefied my body, my soul. "If you were
wicked, I wouldn't have come so hard. So many times."
Jackson shakes his head. "That's not true..."
"But it is. You made sure you gave me pleasure just as much as

you took pleasure. There's nothing wicked about that."
"What if I said I started out slowly? That tonight was just a test run?
What if I said there was more I wanted to do to you? Dirtier things?
Darker things?"
"Then I say bring it on. Tonight was amazing. If you've got more of that
hiding somewhere, I am not going to complain." I push up on my
elbow. "Now, will you please help me off the bed and into the shower?
Who would have thought lube could be so sticky?"
***
The next couple weeks pass in a blur of sex, laughter, and party
planning. Jackson does his very best to prove just how wicked he is,
and I continue to be more sexually fulfilled than I've ever been in all my
life. The night I came home from my spot on WDTN—which went way
better than I could have hoped—he and Georgia had dinner waiting for
me on the table. After she went to bed, Jackson poured us some wine,
lit a few candles, and titty-fucked me before he came on my face. Then
he took his time making me come with his mouth before he carried me
into bed and made love to me, his eyes locked on mine, my wrists
captured in his hands and pinned over my head.
He calls it wicked. I call it wonderful. Either way, we're both happy.
Finally, the day of the party arrives. I wake up early and climb out of
bed before the sun has even begun to think about making an
appearance. As the coffee brews, dripping and bubbling into the pot
and filling the kitchen with the rich aroma of good beginnings, I sit
down at the table and go through my notebook filled with lists and
ideas for tonight. Jackson teases me about using a pen and paper
instead of my phone or a tablet, but I swear I can think better when I
write things out. I flip the pages, looking for anything I could have
possibly missed, but everything looks like it's in good shape. All that's
left to do is drop Georgia off at the Moores, get the decorations put up,
get into costume, and get this thing started.
We' ve got food.

We' ve got music.
We' ve got more liquor than is rational.
And we' ve got each other.
What more could we possibly ask for?
The morning passes quickly and the afternoon passes even quicker.
Before I know it, we're standing in the middle of Fantastic Sam's,
staring at the fully decorated space.
"We did it." Jackson's smile is incredulous and he looks sexy as sin in
his dark suit and tie. He's the JFK to my Marilyn Monroe.
"Did you doubt we would?" I ask as I fluff my blonde bombshell
hair.
"Nope. Not one bit. We're one hell of a team." He wraps his arm around
my shoulders and pulls me in close, bending down to kiss the top of my
head.
I squirm in his arms, twisting and turning until I'm facing him. "I want a
real one," I say tilting my face to his.
Jackson bends down and presses a kiss to my lips. His hands come to
my waist and I drape my arms over his shoulders. This is nice. Better
than nice. This is everything. After the last five years, it still feels
surreal, being this happy. Feeling this safe. Knowing just how much I
want him and feeling just as wanted in return. This time with Jackson, it
feels like a love story. Like the kind of stuff I never believed happened
in real life. This is everything I've ever wanted and never thought I
could have. I'm afraid to blink in case I discover it's all just been a
dream.
He slaps my ass and then grabs it with both hands, pressing my hips
forward. A very distinct bulge presses into my stomach. "See what you
do to me?" he asks. "You look fucking dangerous in that dress."
I bite my lip and stare up at him. "The real question is, just what are you
going to do about it?"
***
An hour and a few orgasms later, we're back in our costumes, looking
only a little worse for wear. We stumble out of the back room, still
tangled up in each other, only to draw up short when we find a

crowd gathering at the door. The rest of the staff hasn't even showed up
yet and most of Bliss is waiting outside to get in. The realization that
this party is going to turn out significantly bigger than either of us
expected starts to sink in and nerves set me moving. By the time Aria
arrives, looking delectable as a female Sherlock Holmes, I've
straightened each and every item on each and every table at least five
times.
Turns out, I had nothing to worry about. The party is a raging success.
People are laughing, smiling, dancing, and drinking. I haven't stopped
grinning since around the time we opened the doors. Whenever I catch
Jackson's eyes, he looks just as pleased with us as I am. I'm on cloud
nine. Floating on exhilaration and happiness and a sense of
accomplishment like I've never felt before.
Jackson's cousins are here. All of them. Which only increases the
excitement for everyone else. The Moores might as well be royalty
here in Bliss. They either don't notice it or don't care, so they're
incredibly down to earth. Which only increases their allure.
While Jackson catches up with his cousins, I notice a couple of bowls
of candy on the bar are almost empty. I excuse myself and head to the
back to get them filled back up again. Someone follows me in and I
turn, expecting Jackson. A vice grip of fear clamps on my stomach
when I see Cain.
"Hey, Ashley," he slurs, brandishing a mostly empty glass of absinthe.
"Wicked party." He licks his lips and leans a hand on the doorframe,
blocking my exit.
"You can't be back here," I say, trying to sound firm.
"I can be wherever I want to be." He sneers at me and throws back the
rest of his drink.
He advances, stumbling a little over his own feet, and then he's on me.
He grabs my face and presses his lips to mine. In that moment, shock
freezes me in place. I don't struggle, I don't scream. I stand still, hands
at my sides, still full of candy, while I struggle to process what's
happening. It lasts only a second or two, but all it takes is one tick of the
clock for everything to change.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" The voice is rough and loud, strangled
with anger.

I push Cain away and pull out of his arms in time to see Jackson
striding away, his hands threaded in his hair as he disappears back into
the crowd.

Chapter Ten
Fucking. Hell. Of all the people in the world, the last one I pegged as a
cheater is Ashley Thompson. Rage boils in my gut when I walk into the
back and find her kissing Cain. My fists clench and my jaw tightens
and I know if I stand here in this damn doorway for one more second
I'll have no choice but to knock that fucker out.
So I'm on the move.
Prowling through the crowd without any real thought as to where I' m
going.
Part of me keeps pointing out how unnatural the whole thing looked,
that Ashley wasn't returning the kiss, that her hands were at her sides,
not running up his back the way she does mine. But that part isn't loud
enough to speak over the betrayal churning in my heart.
Cheating is intolerable. Trust doesn't come easily for me in the best of
circumstances. The last thing I need is proof that I'm not wanted. That I
don't matter. I can't handle that kind of duplicity. Not again. Not after
thinking I'd found all the answers with Meredith only to come home
and find her bent over our kitchen counter getting pounded by some
asshole in a cheap suit. I thought she was driven, ambitious. Turns out
that was only the face she wore for me. She was nothing more than a
whore, drawn to my money and the lifestyle I could provide her.
She laughed when I found her. Laughed at the hurt on my face.

Laughed at me for believing I could be worth having a family who
loved me. I've never been so embarrassed, so hurt, so fucking let down.
And then, to find out how blind I had been to who she really was left
me dumbfounded. During the divorce, I finally got to meet the real
woman I married and she was a heartless bitch. All she cared about
were the material things. The fancy paintings and leather sofas. The
cars. The jewelry.
All I wanted was my daughter. She could take it all. Everything but
Georgia.
My little girl. My daughter. The child I fought so hard to keep but pass
off to someone else every night when I come to work. What the fuck
have I done? What am I doing here? I could have stayed in the city,
kept my job as a stock broker. Sure, Georgia would have needed a
nanny or something while I was at work, but she could have at least
spent the night in her own bed. In her own room. Where I tuck her in
and tell her bedtime stories instead of passing that off to someone else.
And what if Ashley has been wearing a mask, just like my ex-wife?
What if these amazing weeks have been nothing but her trying to dig
her claws into me, using my daughter against me, all so she could have
a place to stay? So she could spend my money and not face the
consequences of her actions? Holy shit, I am so fucking stupid.
"Hey, man." Someone grabs my arm. I whirl, expecting Cain and find
my cousin James instead. He takes one look at my face and his
expression darkens. "What happened?"
I shake my head. "Just gotta get my cool before I lose it."
Of all my cousins, James is the only one with a temper almost as hot as
mine. He bobs his head and doesn't ask any more questions. Stays right
by my side, his watchful eyes scanning the crowd like he'll find the
answer to whatever it is that has me pissed off hidden in the throngs of
drunken people wearing dumb costumes.
"Jackson!"
Ashley pushes her way through the packed bar, desperation in her eyes.
Cain staggers along after her, a smirk plastered on his blotchy face.
When she gets to my side, she looks so hurt and afraid that I want to
swoop her up and make it all better, tell her that I've got her, that she's

safe with me. But I don't. I barely look at her.
"I'm sorry, Jackson," she says, taking my hand. "But it wasn't me. He
kissed me and I didn't know what to do."
James crosses his arms over his chest and sets his jaw as Cain steps into
my personal space. "Don't listen to her," he says, his putrid breath hot
on my face. "She wanted it."
"He's lying. I want you""
"Nah, bro. She's a lying bitch." Cain steps back and lifts his jaw. "She
needs me. She's nothing without me. Can't do shit for herself. She's too
weak. If you haven't figured it out yet, you'll figure it out soon enough."
I don' t know how he thinks he can get away with saying those kind of
things about her to my face. Deep in my heart I know Ashley isn't a
cheater. Deep in my heart I know she wouldn't do something like this.
Hell, if I get really fucking honest, deep in my heart I know she loves
me.
And to Ashley, love is something rare and beautiful and worth
protecting. Not something to throw away on an asshole like Cain.
Something I think she's only ever shared with me.
Cain grabs Ashley by the back of her neck and shoves her forward.
"Tell him, babe. Tell him what a worthless slut you are."
I take one look at the pain in Ashley's eyes and there's no time for
thought. I punch Cain right in the face. His eyes go blank and he
stumbles back a few steps before dropping to his knees, blood pouring
from his nose. I rush at him, grab him by the shirt, and haul him to his
feet. I get another hit in. Another. And another. And then James pulls
me off him.
"Calm down, Jax," he says. "Don't do this, man." It's the warning of one
fighter to another. A man who understands that sometimes, once the
rage is unleashed, there's no putting it away until the fire burns itself
out.
The bar has gone quiet. Everyone staring at the new owner of Fantastic
Sam's, a man with throbbing knuckles and blood on his fists. A man
struggling to contain his rage. A man who doesn't belong here.
Without a word, I grab Ashley's hand and leave the bar, trusting

Aria and the others to lock up when the party's over.

Chapter Eleven
I used to be afraid of Cain because of his temper. Because his anger had
a chance of getting out of control. Because he got mad and threw things
at the walls and punched pillows. Because he said terrible things to me
and threatened to do even worse things to himself. But never once in all
those years we were together did I ever see him hit another person.
And now this, with Jackson. The man I thought of as the opposite of
Cain in all ways. Loving and kind. Eager to help and protect those who
need it. A generous lover. A good father. A good man.
And that good man just beat Cain to a pulp in front of everyone. And
when Cain fell to his knees, Jackson didn't stop. He didn't calm down.
He didn't turn around and walk away. Oh, no. He dragged that man to
his feet and hit him again. And I'm pretty damn sure he wouldn't have
stopped if his cousin hadn't finally intervened.
You might think I'd be used to having a man who just made an ass of
himself drag me out of Fantastic Sam's. It's happened enough by now.
First Cain and now Jackson.
Another man.
Another scene.
Here I thought I had finally found everything I ever wanted in Jackson.
Maybe the truth of it is that I just found another version of the same
thing. Hell, maybe the whole reason I was with Cain in the first

place was because he was another version of Jackson. The boy I fell in
love with when I was too young to understand what that meant. The
boy who made his point with his fists with everyone but me.
Except where Cain treated me like I was a waste of space, Jackson
treated me better than anyone has ever treated me in all my life. Better
even than my parents, who were so caught up in their own personal war
to realize or even care that I was collateral damage in their battles. Each
of them wanted me on their side and neither of them cared what it did to
me to be caught between them.
To say I'm confused is one hell of an understatement.
Jackson slows and flips on the signal before turning into our driveway.
His driveway.
Hell, I don't even know anymore.
"Just tell me something, Ashley," says Jackson as he stops in front of
the garage and clicks the button to send the door up. "Did you kiss him?
Or did he kiss you?" The accusation in his voice hurts and a low ache
settles into my head.
Jackson pulls the car into the garage and kills the engine as I shake my
head.
"No. God, no." I spin in my seat, desperate for him to look me in the
eyes and see the truth. "Cain came in and I thought it was you. He just
stood there, blocking the doorway. I couldn't get past him and when he
walked up to me I didn't know what to do. I didn't think. I couldn't
think. He kissed me and I froze. I wanted to push him away. I wanted to
scream. But I froze."
Jackson swallows and I watch his Adam's apple bob as the motion
sensor lights in the garage shut off. "Now that I have calmed down
enough to think rationally about what I saw, I believe you."
"I need you to believe me," I say. "I need you." I yearn for his
forgiveness with every fiber of my being just as a rush of indignation
flows through me. I have nothing to apologize for. I didn't do anything
wrong.
"Trust is hard for me, Ashley. It was hard before I went to New York,
it's even harder after."

I get the sense that Jackson is on the verge of telling me something
important. Of peeling back another layer around the things that made
him the man he is today. I feel like he's about to tell me the last bit that
he holds tight and keeps for himself. I want him to tell me. I want to
know him. All of him. But not if he's the kind of man who loses his
temper and drags me out of public places, who makes me feel like I
need to apologize for things I didn't do.
"There's nothing to forgive," Jackson says and runs a hand through his
hair and then slides it down along the back of his neck.
"Your eyes don't agree with you. You haven't looked at me even once
since we left the bar." I feel foolish now, wearing this stupid dress with
its plunging neckline. This silly wig and this bright red lipstick. There's
no romance in this costume. Marilyn Monroe slept with a married man
and died of an overdose. I want to wipe it all off. Take a shower. Crawl
into bed. Sleep until I can make sense of things.
Jackson finally looks at me and there is so much pain burning in his
eyes that the entire car throbs and aches with the energy of his sorrow.
"I believe you," he says. "And I'm sorry I lost my temper. You deserve
better than that."
I nod, not ready to speak because I'm not sure what will come out when
I do. We get out of the car and head upstairs. Jackson peeks into
Georgia's empty room, leans on the doorframe and sighs heavily. I
pause outside the door to the guestroom, the room that used to be mine
but hasn't been since Jackson invited me into his bed. I don't know
where I belong. In the guestroom? In Jackson's room? Or maybe it's
time I find my own room in my own apartment where I don't have to
worry about anyone but me.
Jackson takes my hand and leads me down the hallway to the master
bedroom. "Sleep with me tonight. You belong at my side."
My heart surges with gratitude, overjoyed not to spend the night
separated from him even as I realize that yet again, a man has me by the
arm, telling me what to do and where to go.

Days pass and things slowly start to feel normal again, tensions fade
and laughter finds its way home. Jackson was afraid people would stop
coming to the bar after what he did, but it seems like all of Bliss was
just as ready to see Cain get what's been coming to him as Jackson was
ready to dish it out. If anything, business has managed to improve.
The first full week of November passes without any issues. By the time
Sunday arrives, Jackson seems somewhat restless as we make
breakfast—a combination of eggs, pancakes, and bacon that the three
of us made together, dancing around the kitchen like the kind of family
you see on TV. So happy and content you can't quite believe it's real at
the same time you truly hope it is.
"You guys feel like doing something today?" he asks around a
mouthful of food.
Georgia nods her head frantically. "Yes!" She grins at Jackson. "I like
Aunt Diane but I want to be with you guys."
Pain flashes across his face so quickly I doubt anyone but me would
have noticed. He hides it well, his fear that he's not doing right by his
daughter. His fear that in his desire to provide everything she could
possibly want; he's not giving her the one thing she actually needs.
Him.
He smiles and stares down at his empty plate, leaning on his elbows
and steepling his fingers under his chin. "What would you say if I told
you there was a carnival in town?"
I raise my eyebrows in excitement and look at Georgia, waiting for her
healthy dose of enthusiasm.
Her little brows purse in confusion. "What's the carnival?"
"Oh, little Bug." Jackson shakes his head and sits back. The fact that
you even have to ask that question proves what a terrible father I am."
Georgia crawls out of her chair and into his lap. "No you're not. You're
my bestest daddy ever."
We get ready quickly, throwing on jeans and t-shirts. I pull my hair
back in a ponytail and do the same for Georgia. She beams at me and
thanks me and my heart swells with love for this tiny little creature.
This tiny little creature who is not mine.

I'm falling in love with her just as much as I'm falling in love with her
dad. And I'm starting to think there's no way I can come out of this
without a heart that's been crushed to pieces never to be put back
together again.
But those are thoughts for another day. Another time. Right now, we
need to focus on having a little fun.
And if there's one thing Bliss knows how to do, it's have a little fun. Our
fall carnival is no rinky-dink little matter. There are games and food
and so many rides you almost have to come back the next day to get to
them all. There are petting zoos and shows and people dressed in
costumes posing for pictures with kids.
The moment we walk through the gates, Georgia spies a real live pony
being led in a circle by a man too bored to notice the joy in the eyes of
the little girl on the creature's back. Georgia's eyes go wide and she
clasps her hands in front of her chest, bouncing up and down in
excitement.
"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! Can I ride the pony? Please can I ride the
pony?" She can barely drag her eyes off the animal long enough to grab
his hand.
"It wouldn't be a day at the carnival if there weren't at least fifteen pony
rides."
"Fifteen? You're kidding right?" She turns to me and rolls her eyes.
"He's kidding," she explains, as if she had all the wisdom in the world.
Jackson looks appalled. "I am absolutely not kidding, young lady. If
you want fifteen pony rides, then my goodness you are going to get
fifteen pony rides." He makes an apologetic face at me, but I don't mind
waiting. Not one bit. I'll entertain myself with a little people watching.
And by people watching, I mean admiring Jackson when he doesn't
think I' m looking.
She adjusts her grip on his hand and pulls him towards the pony. Her
ponytail bounces, gleaming in the sun, as she looks back over her
shoulder at her father. She's got his eyes. And his temperament.
Everything else comes from a stranger. There's a tug at my heart as I
find myself wishing Georgia was mine. And that Jackson was mine.
And that I was theirs. What would it be like if we truly were the family
we pretend

to be? How would it feel if his child was my child?
I'm haunted by images of Jackson with his hands on his ex-wife's
swollen belly, smiling at the first time he felt Georgia kick. Or leaning
down to whisper to his unborn child. I imagine him treating his wife
like the most precious thing, taking care of her and doting on her as the
pregnancy progressed. Deep down, I'm jealous of his ex-wife. I want
that experience with him and there's pain in the realization that no
matter what happens to us from this point forward, he's given that part
of himself to someone else.
Georgia doesn't ride the pony fifteen times. She gets bored around eight
her eighth ride, but I swear, Jackson would have waited for
her—smiling like the proudest of fathers, happy in her happiness—for
as many times as she wanted. Once she's done, he spends the rest of the
day throwing money around like he can print more if he needed it.
We've had so much junk food I don't think I'll need to eat again for a
week. Funnel cakes and corn dogs and French fries lathered in ketchup.
While Georgia rides the swings, Jackson pulls me behind a tree and
kisses me deeply. "I've wanted to do that all day," he says before
lowering his lips to mine again. "You're so damn beautiful, I can't stop
looking at you."
"Good." I press my forehead to his, grateful for this moment of
intimacy in and amongst the chaos of the carnival. "I don't want you to
stop looking at me. I want you to see everything there is in me to see."
Jackson pulls back just enough to study my face, his eyes intent on
mine, a little knowing smile pulling up on the corners of his lips. "Oh, I
do, Sunshine. I see all of you. All the bits and pieces that make up who
you are." He pauses and I swear he wants to say something else, but at
that moment, the music accompanying the swings slows and then stops
and Jackson pulls me out from behind the tree in time to find Georgia
hopping off the ride, scanning the crowd for us.
She scampers up to us, takes each of our hands, and hauls us off to the
next thing that catches her attention. I turn to Jackson, expecting to find
him smiling down at his daughter, and instead find him smiling at me.
"Can't look away," he whispers.

I blush and drop my eyes, filled from head to toe with love and
happiness.
It's been one hell of a good day.
As if that very thought is a taunt to fate, Cain comes swaggering into
view. He's got his arm around some girl in a pair of too-short shorts and
a halter top that stops just below her rib cage. He sees me and smirks,
lifting his chin as if the mere sight of me is a challenge he accepts.
Leaning in close and running his hands up under the girl's shirt, he
whispers something to her that makes her face clench tight. She stares
at me, angry, as if I'm to blame for whatever it was he just said.
My pace slows and Georgia gives my hand a pull. "Come on, Ashley,"
she says in her most encouraging voice.
Concerned, Jackson looks to me and then follows my gaze off to Cain.
His eyes darken and his face goes hard. The tiny muscle in his jaw
pulses and he glances at Georgia, his thoughts as clear to me as if he'd
spoken them aloud. He doesn't trust himself to keep his cool around
Cain and he doesn't want his daughter caught up in this mess.
Cain struts right up to us, winks at me, pokes Jackson in the chest. "Are
you enjoying your day with my girlfriend?" He sneers around swollen
lips, tries to see through a black eye still mostly swollen shut.
Jackson sighs. Closes his eyes. Gathers himself before he speaks. He
opens his mouth while Georgia clings to his leg, afraid of the bad man
in front of her.
I step forward, shocking them all by speaking first.
"I am not your girlfriend," I say, managing to keep my voice strong
even though my insides have turned to jelly. "You have no right to me.
None." I lift my chin. "And I would like you to leave. I want nothing to
do with you."
I look that bastard right in the eye and let him see exactly what I'm
made of. Ashley Thompson is not weak. Ashley Thompson is not
worthless. I am worth more than harsh words and neglect. I am worth
more than my ability to fit into a short skirt and clean up someone else's
mess.
Cain smirks. Looks from me, to Jackson, to Georgia. A snide smile
slides across his lips, made all the more disgusting by the swelling and

bruising left behind by Jackson's fist. Thankfully, he doesn't say
anything. Not one more word. He backs up a few steps, bobbing his
head as he stares me down. And then he spins on his heel and walks
away, grabbing his girl by the arm and disappearing into the crowd.

Chapter Twelve
November bleeds away and Thanksgiving arrives in a cloud of stress
and anxiety on Ashley's part. Her parents stopped having Thanksgiving
dinner years ago and don't even bother to call her. She brushes it off
like it's no big thing, but I can see how much it hurts. The last five
Thanksgivings she's spent alone with Cain, eating Chinese takeout that
she hates. He would spend the day playing his video games and
ignoring her until he wanted something, when he'd bitch at her for not
taking better care of him.
All I can say is that asshole is lucky I didn't hit him harder than I
did.
So, even though I would rather spend a quiet day at home with just the
three of us, we have Thanksgiving dinner at my aunt and uncle's so
Ashley can have a taste of that family gathering she's been craving. All
my cousins are there with their growing families. There are so many
little people darting around women with swollen bellies, you can't turn
a corner without running into a kid or someone who's about to have
one.
The minute Georgia sees her cousins, she runs up the stairs and into the
house and we don't see her again until dinner. She feels like she belongs
here and that does funny things to my heart. My cousins laugh at old
family jokes and tell stories from the last several years. It reminds me
of how I used to feel when I was seventeen, in awe of these people and

their love for each other. At once curious to know how they do it and
certain that it's all part of some elaborate show.
They're kind to Ashley. And she, of course, is kind in return. As the day
progresses, I can see exactly how easy it would be to fall into a life with
her. With them. We could all be one big family of Moores, spending
weekends together like this, our children growing up side by side.
Learning to be good and kind and strong in the face of adversity.
Learning that family trumps all things and that when they're in need,
they have people to turn to.
Except I don't belong to this branch of the family. My clan of Moores is
broken and scattered and worthless. We are nothing to each other. My
parents are dead and my brothers are gone and that's all there is to our
story.
An ache settles into my heart as Diane and Ashley clear the table with
the help of my cousin Lilah. I try to help, but they shoo me away and I
go sit in the living room with my Uncle Frank and his sons. I want this
for Georgia. These things I don't even have a name for but make me
feel like I' m part of something bigger than myself. I tried to create it in
New York and failed miserably. I watch them, try to put a finger on all
the reasons they succeed where I failed.
November becomes December. Christmas comes and goes. Ashley
takes a hundred different pictures of Georgia opening her gifts and just
as many pictures of us all together. I made her promise not to get me
anything because I know she's been saving money for an apartment. In
fact, she's had more than enough money to move out on her own for
some time now. She hasn't brought it up and I'm fine with that. I hope
she never does. I like living with her. She's good to my daughter. She's
good to me. We're good together.
The New Year comes and goes, we exchange a kiss at midnight and I
almost tell her I love her. The words keep finding their way to the tip of
my tongue and time and time again, I swallow them down. I'm sure she
knows. I'll tell her one day. When the time is right. Those aren't the
kind of words you throw around lightly.
Lately, all I can think about is providing a life for her. For us. I want to
give her more than she's ever had. I want to whisk her away

from this little town and her job as a waitress, where she cringes each
time her ex-boyfriend walks through the front door of my bar,
desperate to prove he still has an effect on her. He's always got some
slut under his arm and they always drink too much. Inevitably, he
makes a pass at Ashley or says something so vile that she's left
breathless in frustration.
Cain Holt never deserved her. Not once. Not ever. The fact that he still
has access to her, the fact that he can still get to her and twist his little
manipulative knives in her heart, it kills me. It makes me feel like I' m
not doing my job because somewhere along the way, I fell in love with
Ashley Thompson and that means it's my duty to keep her safe and
secure. I don't call her my girlfriend and she doesn't call me her
boyfriend because those words are weak and flimsy. We are more than
that.
So much more.
Every time I think about Cain, about wanting to take care of Ashley, the
very next thought is New York. We could move back. The three of us.
We'd never have to worry about Cain again. I could go back to work on
Wall Street, building my fortune and ensuring we live a life like my
uncle and cousins. I haven't brought it up yet, but maybe today is the
day.
January in South Carolina is nothing like January in New York. Ashley
and I can still sit outside on the deck, enjoying the constant rush and
roar of the waves lapping up on the beach. It's something we do almost
every day because I need the wind in my hair, the sun on my skin, the
open spaces stretching out in front of me. If I spend too much time
inside, the walls start closing in on me. My thoughts get caustic and my
heart gets poisonous and I know she feels the same way. Our hearts and
minds need the vastness of the sky and the wide expanse of the sea or
we start to feel trapped by the thoughts in our heads that have too much
weight.
Today, in need of movement, we opted for a walk on the beach, holding
hands and strolling along while Georgia scampers ahead in search of a
brand new batch of shells. Ashley bought her a special seashell bucket
and they sat down together to decorate the thing with bits of paint and
flowers and other odds and ends from the craft store. It's the

kind of stuff I can't do for my daughter. Or rather, the kind of stuff I
don't think to do for my daughter, my very manliness getting in the way
of knowing how to raise a girl into a woman. Watching Ashley care for
her like this, like Georgia is her own child, it's just another reason I'm
falling so crazy in love.
"What are you thinking about?" Ashley asks, her voice almost hidden
underneath the roar of the ocean. A storm is brewing offshore, strong
wind blowing off the water as the clouds roll and boil in ever darkening
shades of gray. Her hair whips across her face and she turns towards the
ocean, letting the wind blow it back in place.
I squeeze her hand in mine. "You," I say as she turns back to me,
holding her hair back with her hand. "Us."
Her face lights up. "I like being part of an us with you."
"Do you? You sure?" Ahead of us, Georgia bends down, excited over a
treasure trove of shells at her feet.
"I've never been more sure of anything." Her face grows serious. "I can
only think of two phases in my life where I can say I was actually
happy. That summer when I was fifteen and these last few months. You
know what those two periods have in common?"
I pretend to think, staring out at the gathering storm. "Doughnuts?"
"No silly..."
"Pizza?"
Ashley grins and shakes her head. "You, silly. It's you." She laughs as
thunder rolls off in the distance. "I didn't realize how unhappy I was
until you came back and showed me what it feels like to smile and
really mean it."
Her words create an ache in me. "I hate to think of you ever being
unhappy." We walk awhile as the storm continues to grow. We're going
to have to turn back soon or we'll be drenched. "I remember seeing you
in the hallways in school back when I first moved here. You thought I
never saw you, but there's never been a time when we were in the same
place that I haven't seen you."
She blushes and lowers her eyes, a smile dancing across her face.
"You're just being sweet and romantic about the past because you like
being with me now."

"You can think that if you want. But I promise you I used to swagger
down that hallway making sure I looked as tough and nonchalant as I
possibly could when I passed you. I knew your eyes were on me and it
was all I could do to keep my eyes off of you."
Ashley looks surprised. "Now I know you're making up stories. I was
just some dumb freshman who somehow got lucky enough to finally
catch your attention."
"Nope. Wrong again. You caught my eye right away. No luck
involved. But you were so much younger than me. And so sweet and so
gentle, I was afraid I would ruin you. I told myself I couldn't have you.
I made myself stay away." I pull her to me, draw her in close and rub
my hand along her arm. "In the end, I lost the battle. And then I learned
who you were and I knew then that we were twin souls."
"Twin souls." Ashley sighs. "I like that."
We watch Georgia dance in and out of the sea. Letting the ocean wash
up until it licks the tips of her shoes before she runs squealing to the
safety of dry land.
"I want to move back to New York," I say, turning to Ashley and
watching her intently.
Her face crumbles. The color drains from her cheeks and her lips purse
in a thin, white line. She closes her eyes and she takes a long breath.
"And I want you to come with me," I finish with a smile.
Her eyes fly open. "What? Why?"
"Because I can't imagine a life without you."
The corner of her mouth quirks into a smile. "Really?" she asks, a blush
warming her cheeks before she shakes her head and blinks it all away.
"But that's not what I mean. I mean why do you want to move
back to New York?"
"Because," I say, taking her hands in mine. "I want us to build a life
together and there's no way to do that in a small town where there's no
room for growth. I' m pretty much as big as I' m going to get, owning
Fantastic Sam's."
Ashley frowns, her eyebrows drawing together. Her reticence surprises
me. I didn't expect to have to defend my motivations, but for

her, I will.
"I want what my aunt and uncle have. I want it with you. If we move to
New York, I can provide one hell of a life for you and Bug. My girls
won't want for anything."
Ashley searches my face. "I don't want for anything now. Neither does
Georgia."
"Sure, we're fine now. But what about later? When she needs new
clothes and wants a cellphone? When you both want new cars? When
our house is too small? When Fantastic Sam's can't grow any more than
it already has? What then? If we move to New York City, I can get back
into Wall Street. I can build us a fortune. I can make us happy."
"I'm happy now. Mission accomplished." Ashley sighs. "Besides, as
dumb as it is, I always imagined myself raising my family here in Bliss.
I want my children to go to the same school I went to. I want to go to
parent teacher meetings and remember spending time in the same
classrooms. I want to cheer my kids on at football games and remember
making out with you under the bleachers. I want a home next to the
ocean so I have a place to feel small and insignificant when my
thoughts get too big. I want the roots and familiarity of being in the
same place for all of my life."
"How can you settle for something this simple?"
She bristles. "I don't feel like I'm settling."
"My parents settled. They settled for a stale relationship. They settled
for a small house and a small life. They settled for small dreams that
disintegrated into bitterness. I don't want that for me. I don't want it for
you. And I sure as hell don't want it for Georgia."
"Isn't the whole reason you came back in the first place because you
thought it'd be better for Georgia?"
I nod. Once. This isn't at all how I saw this conversation going. I
thought Ashley would be excited to leave this place behind in favor of
bigger and better things. "Yep," I say, bobbing my head and watching
the storm rage offshore. "I left because I didn't want the city to make
her hard. Because I was afraid New York would make her too much
like her mother."
"And what makes you think anything will be different now?"

"This time she'll have you."
Ashley studies me, emotions battling across her face. Her lips part and
tears gleam in her eyes. And yet, the corners of her mouth twitch up
into a smile. "I love the idea of a life with you," she says, her voice
heavy and weighted.
"Then come with me."
She shakes her head, wraps her arms around her stomach—clutching
her sides like she's afraid her insides might fall out—and looks out over
the ocean as lightning slices through the clouds in the distance. "Do
you know I used to daydream about being your wife? Back when we
were in school? I would write my first name followed by your last
name. Ashley Moore."
I hear goodbye in her voice and it's got my heart racing because I' m not
really sure where we went wrong. "Ashley." I begin.
She holds up her hands. "You're right, Jackson. I'm simple and I'm
sweet. My life is here. I don't want to go to the city. I don't want to raise
my children where I can't take a deep breath of clean air. I don't want to
live in an apartment that's so small I can't move. I don't want to step
outside into throngs of people. I want my wide open spaces and I want
things to be safe and familiar. But I'm afraid you'll always crave more.
That you'll always feel like you're settling for Bliss."
I don't know what to say and I can tell she really doesn't either. Another
flash of lightning streaks across the skies and Georgia shrieks and runs
to me as thunder rolls towards us. Without another word, I scoop up my
little Bug and Ashley grabs her bucket as we run back to the house,
silence wedged between us.

Chapter Thirteen
It' s a hard thing, getting everything you ever wanted only to discover
you don't get to keep it. Just as I got comfortable in this life with
Jackson, he throws a curve ball like New York at me. We try to fall into
our old patterns, but each time I crawl into bed with him at night, I' m
aware my happiness might have an expiration date. This life with him
that felt so safe and so stable, turns out I was just borrowing it. With
each day, our happiness feels more and more tenuous, and I start to
build a wall back up around my heart.
When Georgia asks for bedtime stories, I remind myself that she is not
mine. I curl up beside her and tell her stories of knights in shining
armor, of princesses rescued from dragons, fairy tales that always end
in a happily ever after. Am I doing her a disservice by filling her head
up with nonsense like this? Will she believe there's a prince out there
who will swoop into her life with a fanfare of trumpets and butterflies
and everything will fall into place?
Because Jackson won't take rent money, I've got more money than I
ever had in my life. I could easily rent an apartment and put a down
payment on a car. If I wanted to, I could start building my own life,
something that is one hundred percent mine. I'm just not ready to give
up on the fairy tale. Because right now, Jackson is my prince. But I'm
afraid if I leave him, or he leaves me, my heart will shatter and break
and I'll

have to admit that he truly is wicked.
And so, we fall into a holding pattern. I smile and he jokes. We drive to
work together and come home together but there's a space between us
that wasn't there before. The walls go up around his heart just like the
walls go up around mine. I recognize it because we truly are twin souls.
We're shutting each other out. Putting on a fake smile and ignoring the
hard stuff. A week passes and he doesn't bring up New York again. As
much as I'd like to think it's because he's decided to stay, I know it's
because he's avoiding the inevitable conflict.
Jackson hired Aria to close the place down three nights a week so we
could spend more time at home. Tonight's one of those nights, so we're
on our way back to the house with a whole lot of time to sit awkwardly
next to each other. We' re quiet in the car on the way to pick up Georgia
from Diane, both of us lost in our thoughts. When Jackson's phone
vibrates with an incoming text, it startles us both.
"Will you see who that is?" he asks, handing the thing to me. I slide
open the notification and read. "Diane wants to see if Georgia can
spend the night. She'll bring her to us in the morning."
Jackson nods and asks me to let Diane know that would be fine. As I
swipe my fingers across the screen, the dull ache of finality settles over
me. Just a few days ago, Jackson would have made comments about
how many screaming orgasms I'd have now that we have the house to
ourselves. Instead, he runs a hand through his hair and clears his throat
before giving me a wry smile and a weak thank you.
Something inside me hollows out, like my insides cave in, no longer
supported by the strength he gave me. Tears prick at my eyes and I turn
away, only to come to a decision. I cannot let this man slip through my
fingers. Not again. If he won't fight for us, then damn it, I will. I know
he wants me. I know he loves me. There's no denying it. No ignoring
the sadness that has tinged his smile since the moment I told him I
didn't want to move to New York.
He pulls the car into the garage and heads inside on autopilot. I follow
behind, intending to pour us some wine and invite him out onto the
deck. We'll sit on the porch as the sun kisses the horizon, setting the sky
on fire. I'll pour my heart out to him, show him what he means to

me. What I mean to him. We'll talk through the night if we have to and
come to a conclusion about who we are and why we're good together
and how we'll stay together.
The moment we step into the kitchen, Jackson whirls. He grabs my
arms, his grip almost too tight. His eyes are haunted, chasing down a
million thoughts I have no right to think I understand, and yet I do.
"I love you, Ashley." His voice is low and thick. It scrapes against his
throat as if he had to force the words out of hiding. "I always have. And
I always will."
His words startle my tears awake. They waver in my eyes before they
drip down my cheeks. "I love you, too."
His admission reaches down into my core and stirs the most vital part
of me. I should want to celebrate, and yet I don't. Somehow, I feel like
he's pushing me away at the same time he's drawing me close.
"I want a life with you." Intensity tightens his voice.
"Me, too," I whisper.
I want to tell him he's my everything. That I'd move to New York with
him if I truly thought it had what he's looking for. The thing is, I think
everything he wants is right here. In us. In him. He just needs to stop
looking for the answer outside of himself and look inwards.
Running to New York won't solve anything because the problem is
inside. He's carried it with him for years. A desperation to avoid what
he was, to shed his old skin in favor of something better. A belief that
he is inherently broken and doesn't deserve the love and happiness he
desires.
How can I get him to understand that it's all right here? It's him and me.
It's Georgia. It's Frank and Diane. It's his cousins and their children. It's
the history we have in this place. All he has to do is open his damn eyes
and see that it's all right here for him.
Jackson swallows hard. "Don't leave me, Ashley."
I know what I have to do. I know what I want to say. I need to be raw
and honest with him. Vulnerable and open. My lips part as I sort
through the myriad words that come tumbling up my throat, each of
them eager to be the one that makes all the difference.
A crash and clatter from outside interrupts me just as I decide to speak.
Jackson whips his gaze to the windows at the front of the house,

his eyes hardening. "Stay here," he orders and stalks to the door,
pausing only to pick up the baseball bat leaning next to the garage.
As he flings open the front door and disappears outside, my heart trips
against my ribcage. Jackson lets loose a string of curse words and
someone else laughs low and humorlessly. Outrage seethes up from my
gut. What the hell is Cain doing here?
There's a grunt, some more shouting, the sounds of a scuffle. Propelled
forward by instinct, I race through the front door. Jackson has Cain
pinned face down in the driveway, his knee jammed into his back.
"You're lucky I don't beat the shit out of you once and for all," Jackson
growls, yanking back on Cain's arms.
"What the hell?" I stare down at the men, shocked.
"Get back in the house, Ashley," says Jackson, glowering down at the
man I once thought loved me.
Our trashcans are knocked over, the contents strewn across the
driveway. I step off the porch and find the words lazy cunt scrawling
across the side of the house in bright red spraypaint. My jaw falls open
and my stomach drops off a cliff. How is this even my life right now?
"Why are you doing this to me?" I ask, stepping down off the porch.
Cain starts to answer, but Jackson presses his knee even harder into his
back.
"Just go inside and call the police." Jackson looks up at me, rage
contorting his face. While I know it's not aimed at me, anxiety surges
under the surface of my skin, skittering like an electric current through
my muscles and bones. It's a snake wandering up my spine, clamping
down between my shoulders, tension and fear overwriting all the
thoughts I' d had of talking Jackson into staying here and building a life
with me.
When I come with baggage like this, why in the world would he want
to stay? Of course, the rational side of me is busy trying to catch my
own attention, to remind myself that I am worth more to him than the
side of his cousin's house. That we'll have those hateful words covered
up with fresh paint before Georgia gets home tomorrow. Thing is, my
rational side isn't very big right now. I go inside and call the police and

as I explain what happened, I become more and more certain that
Jackson is going to leave no matter what. That Cain's temper tantrum
was enough to push him over the edge. That it doesn't matter if I
changed my mind about New York, I'm going to have to make peace
with life minus Jackson and Georgia.
When the police arrive, they take our statement and haul Cain off in a
pair of handcuffs. He glares at me from the back of the cop car and I
can't believe I used to think this man loved me. There's nothing but
hatred in his eyes. It makes me sad. Not because of any leftover
feelings for Cain, just that someone could house something so dark and
ugly inside them. That I lived with him for so long and all we have to
show for it is rage and anger and regret. It feels so much like the way
my mom used to look at my dad and it makes me want to crumple in on
myself.
"Is this just what all relationships become?" I ask Jackson as he helps
me back inside. "Are love and hate so finely balanced on the same fine
line of passion, that anger and bitterness is inevitable?" I hang my head,
closing my eyes. Without the allure of love, of twin souls finding each
other and leaving the stress of everyday life behind, what else is there
to look forward to?
Jackson draws me in, touches his finger to my chin and lifts my face to
his. "No, Ashley. It's not."
"But how do you know? How do you look at people like your parents,
and my parents, and Cain? How do you see stuff like that and believe
there's anything different out there?"
"A few months ago, I would have told you it was because of my aunt
and uncle. That I could believe in love because I had seen what they
have together. But now..." Jackson lowers his face to mine, threads his
fingers up into my hair. "I believe in love because of you." His words
whisper past my lips and end in a kiss.
I breathe him in, press my body to his, eager for his touch after this
week of distance. My soul soars as his hands travel my body, his lips
tasting mine. Our kiss grows frantic, hands tearing at clothes, nothing
but the whispers of fabric against skin and our deep inhalations to mark
the passing of time. In the past, Jackson and I have fucked. Each of us
exploring the limitations of each other's passions and curiosity.

Tonight—as he carries me up to our room and stretches me out on our
bed, as he slides himself into me, whispering my name and staring so
deeply into my eyes that I know I'm lost—we make love. Tonight we
make promises to each other, his hips rolling and thrusting into me, my
lips parting and my back arching.
"I love you," he says, leaning down to kiss my throat. My jaw. My lips.
He plunges into me, filling me so full that I'll never feel empty again.
"You are my everything."
"I love you, Jackson." My words fall from trembling lips and as tears
well in my eyes and roll down my cheek, I come. An explosion of
emotion and pleasure, raw and intimate, and Jackson spills his seed
inside me, pressing his forehead to mine and whispering my name
against my skin.

Chapter Fourteen
That night with Cain is the last straw. It proves to me how much I love
Ashley, how deep my need to protect her runs. Which is good, I think. I
mean, it should be good. Except the urge to get out of Bliss is almost a
need. I don't want her here where that asshole can show up whenever he
wants.
I found an apartment in New York. It's not small by New York
standards, not even a little. There's a garden on the roof, modern
amenities, floor to ceiling windows in the living room that look out
over the skyline. It may not be the wide open spaces she thinks she
needs, but it's pretty fucking close. And the thing is, if I can get back
into Wall Street, then she won't even have to work. She can stay home
and raise our family. We can create our own branch of the Moore
family tree, strong and stable and out of reach of anyone who wants to
hurt her.
The problem is Ashley's need to please people, especially the people
she loves. It's so strong, it's almost dangerous. Too easy to take
advantage of. If I tell her I want her to come with me, if I keep pushing
the issue after she stood up for herself like she did the other night, she'll
say yes just to please me. Just to avoid the conflict.
I don't want that. I want her to come with me because she wants to.
Because she believes in a life with me in the same way I believe in a life
with her.

I can hear her in Georgia's bathroom, the two of them singing away
while Ash does Bug's hair. It warms my heart and sets my nerves on
fire because I'm gambling on her love for me. When I tell her about the
apartment, when I tell her that Georgia and I are leaving and wait for
her to say she wants to come with me, it's a roll of the dice. The chips
will fall where they may and I don't know if I'm ready for what comes
next.
"Daddy!" Bug comes barreling down the hallway, her pigtails
bouncing as she clomps towards me. "Wait 'til you see Ashley," she
says. "I made her so pretty." She beams up at me and I scoop her into
my arms. I will always melt for my sweet, awkward Bug.
"Are you ready for this?" Ashley calls, peeking out into the hallway.
Georgia spins in my arms to look into my eyes. "Are you, Daddy?"
"Am I ever."
Ashley steps out from the bathroom, hands on her hips, and pivots like
a model on the catwalk. Her hair is gathered in what looks like one hell
of a painfully executed ponytail, a big clump of hair locked up in a
rubber band. Strands of her hair fall free as she moves. But the real treat
is when she finishes her spin and looks me full in the face.
"I did her makeup!" Georgia squirms out of my arms and thumps down
the hallway to grab Ashley's hand before pulling her forward and
depositing her in front of me. Ashley giggles and shakes her head as my
eyes go wide. Her lips are a violent red, the color extending down onto
her chin and out towards her cheeks. When she smiles, I see it's even on
her teeth. Bug has painted her eyelids a deep purple, surely inspired by
the color of her bathroom walls. Her eyelashes are clumped together
with something thick and black.
Ashley bats her eyelashes. "Don't I look fantastic?" she asks.
"Utterly astounding," I reply, trying to stifle the laughter I know would
only hurt Georgia's feelings.
"Take our picture, Daddy." Bug pulls Ashley down to crouch beside
her and wraps her tiny arms around Ashley's shoulders. They press
their cheeks together and grin as I pull my phone out of my pocket and
snap a picture.
"That's one to remember forever, that's for sure." I put the phone

back in my pocket and help Ashley to her feet. "Hey Bug, why don't
you go play in your room so I can talk to Ashley."
Without a word, Georgia scampers off to her room, pausing only to
blow us a kiss over her shoulder before pulling the door closed.
"That sounded awfully serious," Ashley says the moment she's
gone.
"Nothing is serious with you looking like that." I lead her into the
kitchen and hand her a paper towel. "You'll be tasting lipstick for at
least a week."
"Probably. But it was worth it. She had a lot of fun." Ashley smiles but
it doesn't reach her eyes. She's worrying, anxious over whatever I have
to say that required alone time.
Better to rip the bandage off rather than prolong the pain, right?
"I found an apartment in New York."
Ashley pauses in her efforts to wipe the lipstick off her cheeks and
chin. It's just a small pause in the movement. A hiccup, if anything.
And then her eyes go flat. "Oh, yeah?" Her voice is toneless. Dead.
I nod, smiling even though my heart is pounding against my ribcage,
knocking on my bones as if to tell me to shut the fuck up before I ruin
everything. "Yep. It's fantastic. Floor to ceiling windows so we don't
feel like we're trapped inside. A rooftop garden for a little bit of
greenspace."
"We?"
"Yep. We." I intentionally avoid defining just who that word
encompasses.
"When?" "When what?"
Ashley slams the paper towel onto the counter. "When, Jackson? When
are you leaving? When were you going to tell me? When did this all
become a real thing?"
Her questions take me off guard, mostly because the second one keeps
echoing in my head. When are you leaving? Not we. She either hasn't
figured out that coming with me is an option or has already decided I' m
not worth following.
I open my mouth, waiting for an answer to fall out, and Ashley

continues on her tirade.
"What about the bar? You just bought it. You're gonna give up on it
already?" Ashley swipes the paper towel off the counter and scrubs at
her face, peering into the dull reflection of the stainless steel
refrigerator.
"I don't have to run it to own it. I can hire a manager. Aria. You."
She whirls on me, anger distorting her face. "I thought we were more
than this." She tears at the rubber band holding the clump of hair in
place and rakes her fingers through the tangles.
"I did, too." Disappointment and desperation surge through me. This is
not how I intended this conversation to go. I figured she'd resist at first
and then come to the realization that when I said we, I meant all of us.
That my plans include her. That I want her. That I need her. That she is
my forever. My happiness. She is the key to what I've been chasing for
the last eight years.
I didn't expect to run up against her rage.
"You know what?" Ashley inhales and releases her breath in one
shuddering sigh. "Fuck you, Jackson Moore."
And with that, she strides out of the kitchen, passes through the living
room, and walks straight out the back door towards the ocean. My heart
follows her, a balloon on a string, tied to her wrist, destined to bounce
along behind her wherever she goes. I stare after her.
I rolled the dice. The chips fell. I gambled.
And I lost.

Chapter Fifteen
I have no words. No thoughts. Just a need to move. A compulsion to be
not still. I couldn't stand there next to him anymore. Not with my heart
stuttering around in my chest, a bird dying in its cage. Not with
confusion clouding my judgment. Not with tears threatening to fall
from my eyes and show him just how weak I actually am.
Nausea boils in my stomach as I stride through the house. I'm propelled
by nothing but a desire to be anywhere but here. I hit the beach, my feet
faltering in the sand. I don't turn around to see if he's following me. I
don't pause or question my decision to leave. I just put one foot in front
of the other after the other. I scrape at the clumps of mascara on my
eyelashes, certain I look horrific as tears stream down my face,
carrying bits of black to mingle with my red-stained lips and face.
Eventually, thoughts make their way through my emotions, but they're
so frazzled and incomplete I can't make sense of them all. Still in view
of the house, close enough for Jackson to see me and come after me if
he wants to, grief swipes my legs out from underneath me. I crumple to
the sand and stare out at the sea.
The waves rush in, each of them bringing a new set of questions, but
mostly, I sit here, angry at myself for believing in something as
ridiculous as true love and twin souls. Jackson is broken in ways I can't
fix, set to wander, ever searching for the one thing he thinks he can't

have. And me? I'm just as broken. Destined to fall for men who aren't
capable of loving me, fulfilling the prophecy created by my parents.
The worst thing of all is the hurt. The betrayal. The realization that he
could go and plan a life without me, never once letting me know until
he' d already finalized the details. He has a place for them to go. And I
have nothing.
I take a breath. Let it out. That's not entirely true.
I have enough money to find myself an apartment. Enough money for a
down payment on a car. I have everything I need to start my own life.
But without Jackson and Georgia, I have nothing that I want.
Everything I desire was just ripped out of me. I have no choice in the
matter. I can either stay here, alone. Or go with him.
That thought catches my attention. Go with him. Why am I so set on
staying here? What's so important about raising my family in the same
spot I grew up, especially when I had such an ugly childhood? Why
can't I just pick up and build something entirely new with Jackson?
Even as I ask myself the question, fifteen reasons to stay fight back the
little surge of hope brought to life by the idea of building a life with
Jackson.
For one, I don't want to run away from the hard stuff. I want to stand my
ground and prove to myself that I'm strong enough to withstand
whatever life throws at me. Shitty parents? Fine. I'll be a fantastic
mother. Right here where I was so miserable, I'll build a new set of
memories over top of the old ones. Shitty ex-boyfriend? Fine. I'll pull
myself up and smile in the face of it all.
Of course, the important thing to remember here is that it doesn't matter
how many reasons I have to stay. If doesn't matter how important they
are to me or whether I can work through them. Jackson just said he
found an apartment. He didn't ask me to go with him.
Jackson doesn't want me. That realization settles its cold hands on my
heart and starts to squeeze. I can't just sit here and wonder about what
if' s and why not' s anymore. I need to come up with a plan. There will
be time for tears later, but now it's time to pick myself up and move
forward. Gather my things and find a place to stay because I'll be
damned if I spend one more night where I'm not wanted.

I stand, swiping at the sand clinging to my jeans, thankful I kept the
paper towel balled up in my hands. I wipe away the tears and makeup
smearing down my cheeks. Movement in the corner of my eye catches
my attention and I turn, hope blossoming in my chest, certain that
Jackson has come out to bring me home.
But the man striding towards me isn't Jackson. It's Cain.
My arms drop to my side and the paper towel falls from my hand. It hits
the sand and gets caught in the wind, rolling back towards the house.
"Fancy meeting you here," he says as he approaches, snide and
sneering until he sees my face. "Jesus, what happened to you?"
"Why do you keep coming back?" I ask through clenched teeth.
Cain studies me, the little glimpse of caring obliterated by my question.
"Because I'm allowed to. You're mine, Ashley. Always have been,
always will be. I just keep waiting for it to get through your thick
skull."
"I'm not yours."
Cain' s eyes widen. "No? You sure?" He takes a step towards me and I
stand my ground.
"Very." I take a deep breath and lift my chin. "Love doesn't feel
like this."
"I never said anything about love, you dumb bitch." He lashes out.
Grabs my arm and yanks me towards him. His hand covers my mouth
and I choke on my scream. "When I was sitting in fucking jail, I
realized something, Ashley. Something so simple, I can't believe I
haven't figured it out just yet." He squeezes his hand against my mouth
and my teeth cut into my lip. "If I can't have you," he whispers, his
voice low and sinister. "No one will."
Using the hand he has covering my mouth, he pinches my nose shut
and suddenly I'm aware of just how much danger I'm in. I can't breathe.
There is no breath. I struggle and fight, my feet scrabbling for purchase
in the sand. A stray thought comes floating through the panic and fear. I
never took the time to put on shoes. I'm going to die with bare feet.
Alone on the beach, with Jackson close enough to save me if only he
cared enough to come after me.

Cain slips in the sand and loosens his grip as he fights for his balance. I
let my knees buckle, give him my full weight, counting on the fact that
he's not ready to support us both. We go down, one on top of the other.
His hands fall away from my nose and mouth and I drag in a breath of
fresh air and sand. Coughing, blinking as the tiny grains fall into my
eyes, I struggle and scream. Somehow, I get out from underneath him.
Haul myself to my feet only for him to grab my ankles and pull. I fall,
my elbow hitting him in the stomach. His breath whooshes out of him
and I get to my knees and stomp on his balls. He cries out, writhing, and
I kick sand into his face, blinding him. It goes into his open mouth and
he chokes, curled up in a ball at my feet.
I don' t stop to think. I pivot and stumble, desperate to get back to the
house. To get back to Jackson. To get back to safety. I catch my balance
and whirl, only to see him striding towards me, Georgia in his arms,
clinging to his shoulder as he barks orders into his phone.
He stops in front of me, his eyes wide with regret and fear. "Are you
okay?" he asks as he lowers Georgia to the ground. She wraps her arms
around my legs and I put a trembling hand on top of her head.
"I think so."
Cain struggles to his feet, coughing and choking and spitting up sand.
Jackson tackles, takes him down and hits him once in the face. Once
was all it took. Cain goes still.

Chapter Sixteen
The ambulance shows up first and the cops aren't far behind. They ask
their questions and do their tests, but all I can think about is getting
Ashley home and safe. When they're finally done with us, she snuggles
into me as I lead her back to the house. I pour us both a drink and pull
her into my lap on the couch.
"What now?" she asks after a few moments, her voice barely a whisper
against my chest.
"Well, I' m sure after the cops get your statement, that asshole will be
heading straight to jail for assault and attempted murder."
"That's not what I meant." She pushes herself up to a sitting position
and looks me in the eye. "What now for us?"
I try to pull her back to me. "We don't have to have this conversation
now."
She stiffens, pulls out of my arms. "But we do. I do. I can't live in limbo
anymore. This week has been hell."
Georgia's playing with a stuffed animal on the floor and judging from
the way she's moving, I can tell she's listening to our conversation.
She's seen enough ugliness today. She doesn't need anymore. Ashley
follows my gaze and bites her lip, nodding.
"It's fine," she says, climbing off my lap and avoiding my eyes. "I'm
going to go clean up." And with that, she leaves the room without

another word.
When she stormed out of the house, I knew I couldn't leave Bliss
without her. I knew that she's my everything, that she's what I've been
searching for. Not wanting to leave Georgia alone in the house, I
waited for her to come back so I could tell her. So I could beg her to
come to New York with me or promise to stay here with her. But she
never came back.
It wasn't until I saw her struggling on the beach that I realized it wasn't
just her I've been searching for. That she wasn't the complete answer to
all of my questions. It was us. It's the way we are together. The way
we're the same in all the ways that matter and different enough that we
fit together like lock and key. She is soft where I am hard and what we
are together is wonderful. I realize I don't need to go to New York,
because maybe all I ever needed was her.
But, as soon as I see the truth in that single, powerful statement, I start
to wonder how I could provide for her if we stay here. The bar is
profitable now but there's no promise it will stay that way. And so, I go
around and round, driven by my desire to keep her and protect her and
the confusion over how to manage to do both at the same time.
Not wanting to wait until Bug goes to sleep, I call my aunt to see if she
can take Georgia so Ashley and I can have a real talk.
"I was just going to call you," she says, her happy voice sounding so
out of place in the craziness of the day.
"Oh, yeah?" I ask, listening for any sign of Ashley, desperate to close
the gap I sense building between us.
"Yep. Looks like everyone's coming over tonight, kind of all out of the
blue. Thought you and your family might join us." My family.
The words cut deep as I realize that' s exactly what we are. I have the
one thing I've always wanted and I might have just thrown it all away.
"Well," I say, searching for the right way forward. "I was calling to see
if you could take Georgia so Ash and I could talk." I swallow the rest of
the sentence and hope she doesn't ask questions. I don't want to admit
that we might not be a family anymore.

When she answers, I can hear she read between the lines. Aunt Diane
has always had a knack for hearing what you mean over what you say.
"Sometimes," she begins. "When the going gets tough, you can't just
keep going. I want all three of you here. You two can sit on the porch
and have your talk, but when it's done, you'll come back inside and
finish the night with us."
As awkward as that sounds, hanging out with my cousins after Ashley
and I decide the fate of our relationship, there's no arguing with Aunt
Diane. I agree and gather my girls, trying to ignore the sadness in
Ashley's eyes. Diane's waiting for us when we get there. She gathers
Georgia in a hug and tells us we don't even have to come in. She sends
us right around to the back porch where she has two chairs pulled up
close to a table with a bottle of wine and two glasses sitting side by
side.
"This is a little weird," Ashley says, staring in through the window.
"A little." I pour us some wine and pass her a glass.
"Jackson..." Ashley trails off, tears wavering in her eyes and I know
without a doubt that she's setting herself up to say goodbye.
I hold up my hand. "Wait. Can I say something first?"
Ashley nods and shrinks back in her chair, swallowing back what she'd
worked herself up to say.
I open my mouth to speak, but the words won't come out. They're all
tangled up, a big mess of thoughts that all need to be expressed and I'm
afraid I'll say it all wrong and she'll misunderstand.
"I' m not good at the emotion stuff," I say. "I know how I feel, but
somewhere between my heart and my mouth, everything gets all
fucked
up."
Laughter erupts inside the house, muffled but contagious. Ashley and I
both smile and try to get a glimpse of what happened through the
window.
"It's like that," I say.
"Like what?"
"From the moment I moved in with this family, I felt like I was on the
outside, trying to figure out why everyone else was so happy. Just like
looking through the window here, wondering what the hell they
thought was so funny."

Ashley sighs. "I know. We've had this discussion before."
"Slow your roll, woman." I smile at her. "I'm not done." Ashley quirks
her head to the side and I take a deep breath. "Here's what I think I' ve
figured out. Right now, if I wanted to find out what was so funny in
there, I could drag my ass off the chair, open the door, and ask. I'm only
on the outside because I don't let myself in."
Ashley's lips part and her eyes settle on mine.
"I thought I needed to do something major. Make a huge change in who
I was so I didn't become my father. I thought that it was inevitable that
I end up like him because I came from him. I looked at my uncle and
told myself that I would never rest until I had the things he had. But I'm
not my dad. I don't have to fight to keep from being him because I never
was him. And I don' t have to keep running and moving and searching
for what I want because I've already found it. That's the tragedy of it all,
Sunshine. I found it eight years ago. In you. And then I left, thinking it
couldn't possibly be that simple and I'm about to make the same damn
mistake all over again."
I take a deep breath before continuing. "You. Us. The two of us
together. That's what I need. That's what I want. We can have all the
happiness anyone could ever wish for. Fuck, Ashley. We already have
it all. I don't need to go anywhere to find it. I just need to open up the
damn door and let myself in."
Ashley opens her mouth and closes it again, trying on a hundred
different responses before finally deciding on staying silent.
"I don't want to go to New York," I say, desperate to fill the silence. "I
hate it there. It's just safer to run away instead of staying here and
opening myself up. Or at least that's how I always felt." I roll my eyes at
myself. "I'm not running anymore. I want to stay and take a chance on
happiness."
"Are you sure?" It's the first thing she's said and her voice is nearly
strangled with emotion.
"I've never been more sure of anything." I stand, wine glass in one
hand, offering her the other.
"What are you doing?" she asks, placing her hand in mine.
I pull her up, grab the bottle of wine Aunt Diane left for us, and

kiss her on the cheek. "I'm opening up the damn door."
And with that, I lead her into my uncle's house, and take a seat with the
rest of my family.

Chapter Seventeen
"Lilah?" I poke my head through the door to the storeroom at Fantastic
Sam's, looking for Jackson's cousin. "What are you doing in
here?"
She looks up from where she's sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning
against a shelf, a bag of open conversation hearts balancing on her
pregnant belly. "Sorry," she says. "I saw them and couldn't resist.
They're the best thing about Valentine's day."
I shake my head. "But they're really not." I sit down next to her and
pluck one of the chalky candies off her tummy and pop it into my
mouth.
"No." She laughs as I cringe. "They're really not. I just can't stop
myself. Promise you won't tell you found me in here like this?"
"I promise no such thing. Your pregnancy cravings are really weird.
The family deserves to know."
"It's all fine to make fun of me now," she says, lifting one delicately
styled eyebrow. "But you just wait. One day you'll be the one scarfing
down toxic candies on the floor in a storeroom of a bar."
I smile through a twinge of sadness. It's been a month since Jackson
decided not to move to New York. He bought a house—a smaller
version of the one he rented from Ian—and though it's been fully
decorated from the moment we moved in and feels more like a home
than any place I've ever lived, he's not mentioned anything more

permanent between us.
Which is fine. I know he's my forever. He'll propose when he's ready
and that's totally okay with me. Really, it is. But the more time I spend
with Georgia, the more I want to have a little baby of my own. A tiny
little combination of me and Jackson. I want to watch him love our
child the way he loves her. I want to see him cradle my son or my
daughter and look down at that little face with reverence. But since the
proper order of things includes a proposal, followed by an engagement,
followed by a wedding, before we even get to talk about having babies,
I've got a lot of waiting ahead of me.
"You guys almost set up in there?" Lilah asks around a mouthful of
candy, gesturing towards the bar where Jackson and I have been setting
up for our Valentine's party with the help of his cousins. "Yep. The
guys are nailing the cupid to the w a l l . " I pause as Lilah dissolves into
girlish giggles. "The guys are nailing Cupid, huh? And you're okay
with that? Because it doesn't sound the least bit appropriate to me."
I stare at her, eyes wide. "Those hormones are doing a number on you,
aren't they?"
"You have no idea." She waves her hand in front of her face. "Ignore
me. Go on."
"Well, as I was saying, the guys are finishing up getting the decorations
on the w a l l . " I pause, waiting to see if she finds anything sexual in
that comment before continuing. "And then we're pretty much done.
Fantastic Sam's is ready to host its second holiday party."
Lilah finishes the conversation hearts on her belly and then struggles to
stand. "Awesome. I'll just go out and see if they need any help." And
with that, she's gone before I have a chance to respond.
It' s been hard work, getting the bar set up, but not nearly as hard as it
could be. With all of Jackson's cousins here with their significant
others, the work passed quickly, lost in hours of jokes and laughter. I
take a moment to rest my head on the shelf behind me and close my
eyes, sending out a silent thank you for the happiness Jackson and I
have found together. Who would have known life could be this good?
After a few seconds, I stand and follow Lilah into the bar only to

draw up short as soon as I step through the door. Jackson's got a
doorframe standing up in the middle of the room. He's standing just on
this side of it with Georgia, staring at me with the strangest look on his
face, while his aunt and uncle stand on the other side with all his
cousins and their kids.
"What's going on?"
Jackson licks his lips and reaches out to me. "Come here, Sunshine."
In a daze, I cross the room and take his hand. "What is this?"
He pauses and swallows before shaking his head and looking back at
his family. "I had this all planned out," he says, running a hand through
his hair. "I'm kind of ruining it."
"Daddy," whispers Georgia. "Just ask her."
Jackson chokes out a laugh, all his usual confidence gone. "I want you
to step through the door with me," he says. "Back in January, I told you
I was tired of being on the outside. That I realized all I had to do was
open the damn door and walk through it. Well, I want you to come with
me." He holds out his other hand, a ring pinched between his thumb
and forefinger. "I want you to marry me. Be my wife. Be my Sunshine
until I ' m old and gray."
Tears burn in my eyes and I gasp, a little hiccupping sob. "Really?" I
whisper, afraid to speak too loudly and blow it all away.
"More than anything."
I nod, the tears flowing freely now. "Yes," I whisper. "I want to be your
wife more than anything. I think I always have."
"And my mommy," says Georgia, showing me a seashell in her hand as
Jackson slips the ring on my finger. "I want you to be my mommy."
She kisses the shell and holds it out for me.
I can barely see through the tears as I drop to my knees and gather her
into my arms. Jackson follows suit, crouching down and wrapping us
up, drawing us into him. From the other side of the room, Lilah sobs
and Diane sniffs. When I look up, I see Juliet, Ian's wife, covering her
mouth with the back of her hand.
"Would you just step through the door so we can hug you already?"
James flares his hands in exasperation, a wide smile stretching

across his face.
Jackson helps me to my feet, swoops Georgia into his arms, and we
step through the door into the arms of his waiting family together.
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Also by Abby Brooks Written As Abby Brooks
The Moore Brothers Series
Blown Away (Ian and Juliet)
Carried Away (James and Ellie)
Swept Away (Harry and Willow)
Break Away (Lilah and Cole)
Love Is...
Love Is Crazy (Dakota & Dominic)
What Happened in Vegas (Dakota & Dominic's Wedding)
Love Is Beautiful (Chelsea & Max)
Blissed Out (Chelsea & Max's Wedding)
Love Is Everything (Maya & Hudson)
Written as Wren Williams
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