“It’s stupid,” I murmur.
Jackson smiles that smile of his that makes my heart want to leap out of my chest, do cartwheels around the room. “I want to know every part of you, even if you think it’s stupid.”
So sweet I might barf.
“I had my first seizure while in a treehouse with Andy, when I was eight years old. I fell to the ground.” I gesture helplessly at the scar that most of the time I forget about. “Hit my head and broke my leg. Andy screamed bloody murder until Beau showed up, he carried me home.” I laugh bitterly at the memory. “My mother was so annoyed. Until she realized we were describing a seizure. Treehouses and adventures ended after that.”
Jackson’s thumb sweeps across the scar again as his eyes devour me whole. “I’m glad Beau helped you.”
“That’s Beau, the helper.”
“You trust him.”
I feel heat crawl up my neck. “He and Andy are basically siblings.”
“Good.”
And then he kisses me again, soft and sweet and some weird part of me starts to knit itself back together as his lips softly glide over mine.
Sometime later, we climb back on the bike and ride for a few more hours, until the sun hangs low in the sky. Jackson guides us back to my house, along the gravel road. The sound of Honey’s familiar barks float to us the moment I take my helmet off. Skipping towards my home, I’m so focused on Honey that I miss the boxes at the front door. Only when I open the door to let her out do I notice them.
Honey, the littleslut, beelines right for Jackson as he climbs off the bike. Helmet off and held in his strong grip, he crouchesdown to lavish her with attention. Annoying, but also endlessly sweet. It’s important to me that if I end up with someone, Honey adores them. Two large pieces of my life need to get along well.
“Ah, good, I was worried it might not be here before we got back.” Jackson strides up the stairs and dips down to grab the boxes. He gestures inside with one finger. “In you go.”
“Excuse me?”
Jackson nods his head this time. “Inside, punk.”
Normally, I’d dig my heels in, I’d fight, or make some kind of biting comment about being bossed around. But something about Jackson relaxes all those urges, probably because he’s not doing it because he doesn’t think I’m capable, he’s coming at me from an angle of kindness. He wants to take care of me for some odd, stupid reason. So, I head inside the house, even though every urge inside me says to flee.
I watch in confusion as Jackson settles boxes on the kitchen island. Wait, the one box is lilac. Oh my God. It’s Bee’s. He flips the lid open with a grin, showing off the four cupcakes inside. But I don’t recognize any of them as flavors I know.
“What are these?” I ask, leaning over the island to peer inside.
Jackson chuckles in amusement at my antics. “Trisha’s testing some things out. Thought that we could try them for her.”
I turn my head in surprise. “Really?”
He nods softly. “Got a plate?”
“Hell yeah.” I skip around the kitchen to grab two plates from the cabinet, along with two forks.
Jackson carefully takes the cupcakes out one by one, then peels off their liners before setting them on a single plate. The final cupcake he does the same, but places it on the other plate. He chuckles at my look of confusion.
“For Honey.”
And my heart promptly skips ten million beats when he gently places the plate on the floor for Honey.
“What’s in hers?” I ask, voice thick with emotion.
Jackson calls Honey over with a few snaps of his fingers, grinning widely when she licks at the cupcake without a question. “Peanut butter based. All of it is safe for her, Trisha promised. Let’s try ours.”
So we stand around the kitchen sampling the new Bee’s flavors. One is a rich and velvety gingerbread flavor for the upcoming holidays, one a dark, spicy chocolate, and the final one a sweet orange. I love them all.
I point at the chocolate one. “My favorite.”
Jackson snorts, then licks the length of his fork. “Not surprised. Chocolate is your favorite, huh?”
