“Let’s go, you big baby,” I call out to Jackson who’s groaning in pain.
“I think we should call you ‘Nurse Ratchett.’ You’re becoming sadistic.”
I try to suppress a smile and stow my attitude. “We’re already late, babe. To get across town we needed to leave ten minutes ago. You’re supposed to be at physical therapy in fifteen and your orthopedic surgeon appointment is right after.”
Jackson’s been able to put small amounts of pressure on his leg with the use of his walker and his arm is out of the sling now. However, since he’s found his sexual appetite again—not that he ever really lost it—I worry he’s doing too much. I took off work today to go with him and make sure he’s not causing more damage.
“If you weren’t so damn sexy I would’ve been ready earlier,” he smirks and rolls the walker over. “I get distracted.”
Laughing and rolling my eyes, I grab my bag. “Let’s go, no more distractions for you.”
We arrive at the appointment late. They get him started on a few exercises while I stand there and watch him. He pushes himself hard and they’re constantly telling him to take it easy. At least I’m not the only one he gives a hard time about what he’s capable of. Typical man.
“Jackson, you did well, but I really need you to dial it down a notch,” the physical therapist, Christy, chides him.
“I am so dialed down.”
“Look, I know this is difficult and you’re doing exceptionally well considering you’re only a few weeks in, but you will set yourself back,” she explains.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“You’re exasperating.”
“Welcome to my world,” I say walking up behind him and he huffs.
Jackson wipes the sweat from his forehead. “Another woman to boss me around.”
Christy stands there and fixes her ponytail. She’s kind but very firm. When I first met her, I wasn’t sure if she’d be able to handle him. She’s only about four-foot-eleven but she’s been doing this for at least twenty years. Her height is an illusion because her attitude is about six-foot-five. Jackson towers over her but I’m pretty sure she could make him cower.
“I won’t put up with your crap. I’ll call the doctor and let him know you’re pushing too hard. Then he’ll put you back in that sling and we’ll say no weight bearing at all.” She crosses her arms as I watch the impending duel unfold.
“You wouldn’t.” He pushes himself so he’s taller.
Christy doesn’t miss a beat, taking a step forward and glaring at him playfully. “Try me, soldier.”
“Sailor.”
“Semantics.”
I laugh at the two of them fighting for the alpha dog position. “My money’s on Christy.”
She smiles and nods in solidarity. “I like this one.”
“She’s all right,” Jackson jokes.
“Don’t let him kid you, he loves me.”
Jackson grabs me and kisses the side of my head. “I do.”
“Enough mushy stuff.” Christy turns to Jackson and sighs. “You’re doing more than most of my patients are able to, but that’s because of your physical condition prior to the injury. You were in top form and you’re much stronger on your worst day than others on their best day.”
His smile and eyes brighten. “See?”
“Before you bask in your brilliance, it doesn’t mean that you can push too hard. You’re not allowed to put pressure on your arm. You need to keep your weight supported, so no walking. The muscles have to heal.”
I turn and smirk. “See? I’ll be sure to mention this to the surgeon.”
“I’ll see you next week.” She raises a brow and gives him a pointed look.
He gives her a salute. “Don’t worry, Christy.” Jackson wraps his arm around my waist. “I always behave.”
She walks away shaking her head.
We arrive at the surgeon’s office and once we get settled in the examination room to wait, Jackson and I talk about the launch plans.
“So, do we have to have this stupid party after?”
I huff and put my hands over my face, “I can’t make you, but I think it’s a good thing for the shareholders to see you. Alive.”
“I’m still going to be in this fucking walker. I really don’t think that’s showing such a clear picture,” he complains.
We’ve been over this at least five times. He argues his side. I argue mine. In the end I usually win, but he keeps at it.
“I think this is the best thing for Raven. I feel it will show strength, that even though you were knocked down you were able to rise up.”
Jackson grumbles but before he can really put up a big fight, Dr. Flores enters.
“Mr. Cole.” He shakes Jackson’s hand. “Ms. Pope, great to see you both.”
“Doctor, can you please write me a note that it’s against the best interests of my health to go to any work parties.”
“Ass,” I reply before the doctor can give him a chance.
“I don’t know that it’s against the best interests of your healing as much as it’s against the best interests of aggravating her.” They smile and look over at me.
I take a measured breath before releasing it. “I think you should tread careful there, darling,” I say sarcastically.
“Let’s take a look at your stitches and how everything’s healing, shall we?” The doctor quickly intervenes and Jackson gives me a coy look.
Dr. Flores is happy with how his incisions are healing.
“Any questions?”
Jackson speaks first, “I want to know when I can start working out again?”
“Jackson, it’s been a few weeks since the shooting. I know you’re anxious, but it’ll be up to your physical therapist.”
“So that’s never. What about other activity?” Jackson’s smirk is evident and so is his meaning.
Dr. Flores chuckles, “You should be cleared for other activity as long as you don’t get crazy.”
I blush and look at Jackson as the grin spreads across his face. “Wasn’t waiting for that all clear, Doc.”
“Most patients never listen to that one.” He grins and I want to die.
This is the most embarrassing conversation I’ve ever had. The rest of the appointment goes on without any further blushing. We’ll return in another few weeks and at that point he should only have to go to physical therapy.
“Are you going in to work?” Jackson asks on our way back to the apartment.
“I should. I have a lot to take care of.”
My phone rings and it’s Ashton.
“Hey,” I say answering the phone.
“Hey, I’m in the area of your office. Wanna grab lunch?” she asks.
I look at Jackson and he smiles apparently hearing her through the line.
“Maybe I can swing it. I was heading in to work anyway.”
“Oh, did you actually take a day off?” her voice rises in surprise.
Why does everyone think all I do is work?
“No, Jackson had a few appointments and I wanted to talk to his physical therapist. According to Captain America over here, he was able to start walking without his cane.” I look at Jackson with narrowed eyes. “It appears someone wasn’t very forthcoming.”
“You only heard what you wanted to hear,” Jackson speaks up.
“Ahhh, well, just tell him you’ll make him watch the awful dance movies you’ve forced me to watch.”
“You liked them,” I scoff.
“Uh huh, sure I did. Okay, so lunch?”
“I wish I could but I have to make up all the work I’ve missed.”
I hate this. I miss my friends, but right now my life has taken a different turn and I need to focus on Jackson and my job.
“Taylor, do you have the files for the Raven account?” I call out while looking for the paperwork I had ten minutes ago.
“No, it was on your desk last I saw,” she says as she approaches my desk. “Did you bring it downstairs when you saw the design team?”
I groan and my head thumps on my desk. “I swear I can’t even think anymore. I’m losing my mind.”
“Are you sleeping at all? You know I say this with all the love in the world, but the bags under your eyes are ready for vacation.” Taylor smiles and plops in the chair while I glare at her.
Sleep. Well, there’s a concept. Between Jackson’s night terrors and the amount of work I’m trying to get done, I barely get three hours a night.
“Being out of the country has put me behind a little. I’m trying to catch up.”
The sad part is as much as I get done at night when he’s sleeping, I usually spend another three hours during the day fixing it because none of it makes sense. I feel awful because I don’t see or spend any time with Jackson. I’ve been staying in the office till after seven and then I get home, eat, and he usually passes out early because of the medication.
“Well, you have to take care of yourself too,” Taylor chides and stands. “Why don’t you head home early? Maybe you can take some time with your sexy sailor man.” She gives me a sideways glance and winks.
I lean back in my chair looking at the stacks of papers and orders. I have most of the big stuff done. It’s little tasks, which I can give to Taylor to get done easily. The excitement builds at the idea of going and surprising Jackson. We could lay on the couch, watch a movie, I could grab lunch from Little Italy, or take a nap. I grab my bag without allowing myself to back out.
“I’m leaving. Don’t call me unless the building is on fire—even then just grab the important stuff. There’s a stack on my desk of orders I need you to check on. I’m taking a mental health day. We have a week until the launch, so … bye!” I smile as she gives me a knowing look.
“Go. I’ll get it all taken care of,” Taylor responds as I’m practically running to the elevator. I feel free and weightless. Giddy with excitement to have some time to not worry about anything. When I exit the office doors onto the streets of New York I feel the wind whip my hair, and I smile. It’s like one of those cheesy commercials where you want to stretch out your arms and spin around. I can breathe and allow the sun to warm my face instead of fighting over why he shouldn’t be trying to hop around and use the damn walker.
I grab a cab and head home. Home? I’m now calling Jackson’s apartment “home”? It stops me for a minute. My phone beeps with a text, breaking me from overthinking my mental blunder.
Gretchen: I’ve sent the files to Neil’s lawyers.
Me: So he’s going forward?
Gretchen: I’ve got this. I think he’ll cower. This seems to be completely financial.
“Hey, take me to the train station instead, please?” I make a split-second decision and ask the cabbie to change directions.
I’m taking care of this. I won’t allow him to put any more turmoil in my life. This ends today, once and for all.
The train into Hoboken gives me some time to plot about how to handle him. This is out of the norm, even for him. Taylor mentioned in an email that Neil’s name was floating around the office because he applied for a position there. Apparently, he lost a few clients in his firm and is now floundering. If he’s after money, he knows Jackson is wealthy. The bottom line is I will not allow him to use me or Jackson for financial gain.
Not going to happen.
Knowing the ring seemed to be his big concern, I head to my apartment to grab it. I don’t know what else he’s after but I want this done. There’s nothing of his I want or need. Everything he’s touched or even came close to is toxic, so good fucking riddance.
Walking through my door, I’m taken back to the call that changed the course of the last few weeks. The wall Jackson held me against, screwed me relentlessly, then everything fell apart. The couch where I promised I wouldn’t run anymore, told him how I felt, and the door where I stood watching him walk away. I still don’t know how I endured the week after he left. I was a shell of a human. Terrified for him, of him, and knowing I would still have to be around him when he returned. The one thing I feared most in our relationship was always that if things went south, how I’d continue to be his publicist.
My room is still a disaster from the trip to Germany where I literally threw anything I could grab into a bag and Ashton and I ran out of the house. Then coming back since and grabbing more clothes to stay with Jackson. This is going to be loads of fun to clean up.
The jewelry box holding the ring sits in the closet where I placed it months ago. I open it and remove the diamond engagement ring. I hate him and everything this represents. While my feelings toward my father may have shifted slightly, my feelings of disgust toward Neil have only amplified.
Time to end it.
Time to be done.
Time to handle Neil and ensure that my relationship with Jackson doesn’t have issues because of him. I grab my “Fuck You” ring as well. I want no part of Neil. I want him gone and every memory to fade away with him. The princess cut diamond shimmers against the wall and one day I know I’ll wear a ring again. I’ll marry someone who loves me with his whole heart. He’ll respect me and be honest, instead of filled with secrets and lies. I don’t know if Jackson will be that man, but I can hope.
For a moment I allow myself to dream. I’m filled with a vision of Jackson on his knee, giving me his heart, his love, and promises of forever. I see in his eyes the love that I dream of. The ring he’ll place on my left ring finger that I’ll never take off because our love will be true.
I can see my long brown, hair in a low knot. I’m adorned in a gorgeous, white dress on the beach by our lighthouse, the place where our magic happened. I smile and walk to him as he waits for me. A single tear forms when I see the smile across his face with Mark beside him. Ashton is on the other side with tears streaming, but I can’t turn my eyes away from him. I place my hand in his and we say our vows that speak of the promise to love one another, respect each other, and forsake all others. Before our friends and family, we promise to hold our love sacred. Jackson kisses me, sealing everything spoken through the day, and of course in true Jackson style he somehow manages to do something inappropriate.
The smile spreads across my face as I allow myself to go further into my fantasy. I see my stomach round with child. He’s putting together a crib, cursing at the directions and the fact that he can put a gun together in under thirty seconds but it’s been four hours and the crib is still strewn around the room. I laugh holding my belly. It’s all so beautiful and perfect, but I stop myself before I get too far.