Page 62 of Falling For Alaska

Words can’t express my gratitude toward this man, but I tell him anyway, "I trust you." He leans in, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to my lips. My body reignites with its other half, the true one. He murmurs against my mouth, "I want you t-to trust me." Unconditional love slips from him and lands right in my chest. Palms on his chest, I whisper, "I made you pancakes." The air shifts, thickening, the walls closing in on us, extracting the oxygen. "Are you hungry?" I murmur.

"Hungry doesn’t even c-cover it." Jack’s eyes darken with a slight tilt of his head. "Let’s eat," he rasps with difficulty, invisible wires anchoring him to the ground. "Because right now, I...I don’t t-trust myself around you."

A blush stamps my neck. "I like…that I do that to you."

"Make me s-stronger and weaker at the same time?"

"Something like that." Jack takes my hand and presses my palm to his chest, right over his heart. It beats wildly against my fingers, each thump holding an unreasonable promise.

"You know it’s all f-for you, right?"

My breath catches, tears threatening to fall. "Really…?" He nods, no word strong enough to encapsulate the essence of this moment. Suddenly, his hands grip my waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts me onto the counter. A surprised gasp escapes me, but he’s already there, stepping between my legs, his hands firm on my thighs.

“Is this…okay?” I drop a feather-like kiss on the corner of his mouth because yes, it’s more than okay.

“Jack?”

“Um?”

“You know I’ve never told you but-”

“But?”

“I just wanted you to know,” his gaze meets mine, his thumb circling the outside of my thighs, holding my sanity by a thin thread, “I don’t hear your stutter. I mean, I hear it, but at the same time, I don’t?” A flicker of vulnerability dances on his features, and I see the little boy in him who didn’t have a sturdier armor when he lost his father. “I know you want to get rid of it, but I love you just the way you are. I love you, Jack, with or without stutter. It doesn’t change a thing.”

His eyes shut, processing my words. “D–d-did you know I-I,” he stops, exhaling, eyes on me, control reclaiming the seat shame once occupied. “Did you know I p-practiced for-for an hour in my house be-before asking you out?”

“Jack…” My hand finds his stubble.

“I always thought I c-couldn’t achieve anything in life with-with this…this s-stupid thing holding me b-b-back.”

“But you do, in so many ways,” I whisper. “You’re more than enough, Jack. You’re everything to me.” His lips find mine and he mutters my name against them. Our breathing synchronizes, moving in the same rhythm, learning to trust ourselves again.

“I like that, b-by the way,” he rasps, “you wai-waiting for me at home with fresh pancakes,” he admits with a devilish grin, musk invading my senses, his manly scent making every atom of my being explode into fireworks.

“I like that too.” I blush, the dream taking shape in my mind with even more certainty. Could Jack want something like that with me? Could he handle my mental issues and stay, even through the storm?

Our lips part. “I...I haven’t seen Matthew today,” I say aloud. The words burn my tongue, his hands freezing on my thighs. “I dreamt of him. We…” My voice is low and breakable. “We said goodbye. He was under the ice, but...this time, he said goodbye to me.” I try to keep my composure as Jack’s pupils bore into me. “I just want you to know,” I take a deep breath, “I’m not sure…what the future will be, if I’ll continue seeing him, but...I know this is over now. I know,” I repeat, hammering the certainty into my brain, “and I think if I go back to therapy, I might learn to live again,” I admit, wings of hope spreading in my chest for the first time in years. “But you need to know, Jack, I’m not…this isn’t going to be pretty every day.”

“Alaska—”

“There’ll be ups and downs. Perhaps a part of me will always remain in the past.”

“Hey.” He cups my face gently. “I know. Grief t-takes time, and in a way, you’re only s-starting it now that you’ve accepted it. D-don’t be hard on yourself. Saying goodbye is the b-beginning, Alaska. I’ll be there each step of the way un-until you c-can live normally again. I’ll accompany you t-to your therapy s-sessions if you want me t-to. Anything you need, I’ll do.” Dropping a light kiss on my forehead, he breathes out, “I love you. All of you Alaska. All the p-parts, even the ones you wish you could hide.”

“I love you too,” I whisper, my heart detonating. His lips meet mine in a slow and hard kiss, shutting down my worries and fears. Unconditional love lays a blanket around us, and I welcome it, leaving the rocks strapped around my ankles and swimming to shore. Breathing, finally.

Our kiss is slow at first, his hands roaming from my face to my hips, anchoring me. I tug at his shirt, fisting the fabric hard and something in the air shifts. Gasoline meets fire right here in this little wood kitchen. Jack groans against my mouth, pulling me closer. Still, these uncharted territories are still too foreign for me and I tense. He notices immediately, stopping, forehead pressed against mine. "Alaska?"

My fingers grip his shoulders. "I…I’m sorry, I⁠—"

"Hey." He pulls back just enough to look at me, brushing my hair behind my ear. "D-don’t apologize. N-never." Relief floods through me, and I let out a shaky breath. He presses a soft kiss to my temple.

"I just… I want to be okay first. To be present, and not overwhelmed by a million things happening in my head, and⁠—"

"I know," he interrupts softly. "We have all the t-time in the world, Alaska. There’s n-no rush." There are few moments in life when you can bare yourself raw to someone else. I decide this is one of those.

"Jack…I want a future with you. I want…a home, a family, homemade bread and children laughing in our kitchen… a normal life, even if—” I sigh, “even if I’m not there yet." He looks at me, and I want to disappear into the ground, to take my vulnerability back and wrap it tightly around myself like tape. Only Jack wouldn’t let me do that. He’d reach for scissors instead and cut me free from the cage I built on my own.