Burn for You
His rough black beard was back. His hair had obviously only been finger combed. He was restless and edgy, a dark thundercloud of mood over his head. Though he wore a suit and tie, he seemed more of the Beast than I’d ever seen him.
“Let’s sit down,” he said gruffly, gesturing to the sofa. “We need to talk.”
Surprised, I sat and folded my hands in my lap while I waited for him to sit, too. That moment never came. He stood looking at the floor, his hands hanging loose at his sides and slightly trembling.
“Jackson?”
He glanced up at me. His eyes were so dark. Something about the look in them made my skin crawl.
Spooked, I said, “What is it?”
He moistened his lips. From the inside pocket of his coat he slowly withdrew a set of folded papers. “We don’t have to draw this out any longer than necessary. I wanted to wait until after . . .”
He swallowed, moistened his lips again, then started anew. “I knew you had so much on your plate. I wanted to wait until after the funeral to give you this.”
He held out the papers. “It’s my copy of our contract.”
Taking the papers, I furrowed my brow in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
Jackson dragged a hand through his hair. He loosened his tie, then went to stand at the front window and gazed out at the night like he was no longer holding out hope of finding something he’d lost. His voice low and rough, he asked, “You didn’t think I’d force you to go through with it now, did you?”
When I was silent, stunned because I thought I understood what he meant, he turned to me with a look so anguished it made my heart skip a beat. “Please tell me you don’t think I’m the kind of man who would do that.”
I slowly rose. The papers shook like mad in my hands. “We made an agreement,” I said hoarsely, not recognizing my own voice. “Your inheritance—”
“It hasn’t been about my inheritance for me for a while now, Bianca,” he interrupted harshly, his eyes glittering. “Honestly, I’m not sure it ever was.”
It hung there between us, breathtakingly raw. I whispered, “Jax.”
Something in my expression caused him visible pain. He turned away, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and bowed his head. “I’ll have all your things brought back here. I’m sorry you had to let go of your house. The timing was just”—his laugh was hollow—“shit.”
I wanted to say something—anything—but words wouldn’t come. Jackson was letting me out of our deal. I didn’t have to marry him.
He was going to lose everything.
Finally I came to my senses. A deal was a deal after all, and I wasn’t about to renege on my end of the bargain, no matter what circumstances had changed. “I can’t let you do that,” I said, and dropped the papers on the coffee table. They landed with a dull slap that seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet room.
Jackson turned from the window. He looked at the papers, then at my face. Then he crossed the room in a few long strides and picked up the contract. He ripped it in half with one abrupt, savage motion. “Don’t you get it? You’re not obligated to me anymore! You’re free! Go live your life!”
His voice was choked with emotion. His eyes were wild like I’d never seen them. I put my hand over my thundering heart.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped, instantly contrite, taking a step back. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m an asshole. I know this is the worst day of your life. I didn’t mean to—I can’t—”
He cursed again, whirling away, and headed for the front door. “Keep the ring,” he said over his shoulder. “Hock it. Throw it away. Whatever you want. I’ll send all your things tomorrow. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
He opened the door and was gone before I could even decide if the words forming on my lips were “Thank you” or “Don’t go.”
The screen door slammed shut behind him.
True to his word, Jackson had all my things delivered to Mama’s house the next day in the same boxes I’d packed them into a lifetime ago. I spent a few days in a weird kind of limbo, puttering around aimlessly, trying to decide if I wanted to sell the house or keep it, before I gave up pressuring myself to make any big decisions and retired to the sofa in the front parlor, where I stayed for several more days, rising only to scrounge from the casseroles and leftovers crammed in the fridge.
I didn’t allow myself to think about Jackson. There was a dangerous ache under my breastbone when I got too close to even picturing his face, so I shoved the memory of him and our short, magical time at Moonstar Ranch down into a dark corner of my heart and concentrated on the business of being depressed.
Eeny didn’t let that continue long before barging through the front door and scolding me to within an inch of my life.
“Get off your behind, girl, and get back to work! Who do you think you’re honorin’ with all this mopin’ around? Because it sure ain’t your mama! She’d be scandalized if she could see you right now, lyin’ there wallowin’ like a pig in shit!”
Eeny loomed over me, hands propped on her hips, scowling down at the pathetic picture I made in my dirty pajamas and unwashed hair on the couch.
I severely regretted giving her a key.
“You’re right,” I said tonelessly, staring at the ceiling. “I know you’re right.”
“Then get your ass in gear and get up!” She gave the sofa a frustrated little kick, jostling me.
“I’m in mourning. You shouldn’t curse at people in mourning.”
She snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re in danger of gettin’ on my bad side, boo.”
She didn’t have to say more than that. The last person who got on her bad side ended up with four slashed tires on his car, a headless rooster on his doorstep, and a strange, persistent rash.
“I’m up,” I grumbled, rousing. “Terrorist.”
“You’re the terrorist, child. Have you looked in a mirror lately? You’re so frightenin’ I’d hire you to haunt a house! You’re so scary lookin’ you’d make a freight train take a dirt road! You look so bad—”
“I get it, I get it,” I said, stumbling to my feet. “I look like crap.”
Eeny nodded as if I’d said something remarkably intelligent for once. “Like you fell out the ugly tree and hit every damn branch on the way down.”
I sighed heavily. Eeny grimaced and waved an offended hand in front of her face.
“Lawd! That breath of yours is nuclear, girl! Can’t believe it hasn’t melted the lips right off your face.”
From somewhere deep inside me emerged a grudging chuckle, which made Eeny smile and nod her head.
“That’s better. Now go take a shower and put on some clean clothes. We’re goin’ to the restaurant. You got people to feed, and I miss that ornery ol’ billy goat Hoyt more than I ever woulda guessed. Don’t gimme that stink eye!” she snapped when I raised my brows. “And if you repeat that to anyone, I’ll mash your potatoes!”
“My lips are sealed.”
I smiled for the first time in days as I headed off to the bathroom to wash away a week’s worth of neglect. I stopped when I heard my cell phone ring from the kitchen counter. I didn’t recognize the number when I picked up.