Grinning, I glance out the window. Jackson is lounging in an Adirondack chair in the yard, the sun lighting up his black hair. He’s dressed in a black crew-neck tee, denim shorts, and a pair of white Vans, drinking his coffee, staring out at the expanse of empty land in front of us that leads to a forest on the horizon.
He looks so…I don’t know. Peaceful? It’s hard to identify because it’s not a side of him I’ve ever seen before. I take a few more sips and enjoy my view, then decide to head out and join him before he catches me watching him like a creep.
I wonder what today has in store. What mood is he in? Are we going to get on each other’s nerves and snip at each other all day, bored out of our minds with nothing to do out here? Or are we capable of getting along and having more mature, interesting adult conversations like we did last night? Or was that an anomaly? A one-off, never-to-be-repeated moment.
Only one way to find out.
I open the sliding door and step out onto the patio. “Mornin’.”
He turns his head and almost spills his drink. “Uh, good morning.”
Did I “forget” to put a shirt onagain? Why, yes. Yes, I did. It’s becoming a bad habit. Then again, Jackson has seen a lot more of me than just my bare chest, so what’s the harm in a little early morning flex?
I pick up a slat-back wooden chair from the patio and carry it over to him, gripping it by the backrest. Not my fault if the way I’m carrying the chair in one hand and my coffee in the other makes both my biceps pop. Intense green eyes track my movement across the grass, Jackson’s lips remaining suspended over the rim of his mug.
I set the chair down near him with a soft thud and swing one leg over the seat, folding my arms across the top rail. “Sleep well?”
“No. Some rich asshole needs to invest in a CPAP machine. You toss and turn so much. And your breathing? Don’t even get me started on your breathing. I thought I was sleeping in the freaking jungle with all the noise you made.”
I frown. “Are you for real, or are you just giving me shit before I’ve even finished my first coffee?”
“I’m serious. Hasn’t anyone ever told you?”
“That would imply people have stayed the night.”
“You’re not a stay-over guy?”
I take a hearty sip. I’m used to Jackson being intense, but it hits differently first thing in the morning, when I’m not fully caffeinated yet. “I’m not. You’re actually the first guy I’ve eversleptwith.”
“Not even your ex?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Not even him. Said he was an insomniac and couldn’t share a bed with anyone. Of course, now I know he had no problem sharing plenty of beds.”
“Oh.” Jackson bites his lower lip. “Well, get that shit looked at. It’s not right. Reminds me of Clancy. He used to snore and choke so badly I could hear it from my room. He’s been sleeping like a baby ever since he got a machine.”
“Are they those Darth Vader–looking things?”
Jackson smiles. “Yep.”
“But I’ll look like a freak.”
Jackson’s smile deepens as he looks over at me. “Yep.”
After breakfast and having some time to process the fact that I may need to spend the rest of my nights hooked up to a sleep machine, we’re at a loose end.
The day stretches out in front of us, and with no cell reception, no TV, no one around for miles, and the possibility of assassination should we try to take a break for it, the reality of just howtogetherwe are seems to dawn on us at the same time.
“What would you like to do today?” I ask as Jackson finishes wiping down the kitchen counter. He insisted on washing up and cleaning and wouldn’t let me help.
“I don’t know,” he answers. “Can’t remember the last time I had a tech-free day. How did everyone spend their time before cell phones were invented?”
“No idea. But I do know people pay good money to go on a retreat and have all their devices taken from them. Ollie once went to a ten-day silent meditation retreat.”
“How did it go?”
I grin. “He came back after three days. But he said he felt better anyway. Meant to be good for the soul. Or something.”
“My soul is just fine.” Jackson lines up the toaster and coffee maker neatly on the counter, even though I just saw him doing that not even two minutes ago. Then he fusses with the dish cloth, making sure it’s hung perfectly straight on the oven handle.
