“I wanted to ask you something,” he starts again, green eyes meeting mine, and I see the nervous teenage boy behind them.
“Okay…”
“Christmas is Wednesday…and I was wondering if you could do something for me…uhm, as a favor.” His elbows rest on his knees, his chin in his palms, and I wait with bated breath.
“Go on.” My pulse is through the damn roof.
“Fia and I are going to the prison tomorrow afternoon.”
It takes two seconds for that to sink in. I glance at my sister, who looks pale as a ghost, unmoving.
“I didn’t know you were talking to Danny,” I say directly to Jesse. There’s a new sharp pain in my chest.Why didn't he tell me? But now isn't the time to address it, not in front of Fia.
“Yeah, I am.” Jesse nods hesitantly. “And we want you to come with us.”
I lean against the sofa, taken aback.
“I know this is really hard for you, but we’ll be there. He gets out in five months, and maybe…” Fia starts, but it’s like the fork is lodged in my chest. It’s tight, and I’m cornered.
Fia doesn’t know exactly why I haven’t seen him in ten years. She just thinks it was a falling out of sorts.
She doesn’t know I have a box of unread letters in a closet at home. And she doesn’t know about the one drawn up by my lawyer that I’ll be bringing tomorrow.
“Last week, after visitation, he told me he needed to talk to you. He’s genuine, Pen.” Jesse’s talking directly to me. “I know he’s hurt you. He’s hurt us.”
I swallow, tears pricking at the back of my eyes, immediately giving me a headache.
I’m not sure if this is the worst or best thing to do, but I nod. “I’ll go.”
Jesse’s eyes light up, his head tilted, the firelight glowing off his cheekbones.“Really?” Disbelief coats his voice.
“Yes, but I want to do this alone,” I add, feeling queasy. I hate lying to Fia. But there's no other way. “Ineedto see him alone.”
They pause for a moment and collectively say, “Okay.”
Jesse’s foot finds mine under the coffee table, knocking into it playfully. “Thank you.” He smirks, but I can’t offer anything in return.
I’m not sure if it’s a self-destructive desire or a complete lack of consciousness licking up my throat like a flame, but whatever it is, it pulls me straight out of bed. I can’t be alone with my thoughts any longer tonight.
That’s all it is, I tell myself as I tiptoe across the dark hallway, grip the brass doorknob, and push the door open while my eyes adjust.
Adrenaline courses through my veins, my ribs tight under my flannel nightshirt, and then, like a match dropped in kerosene, my body roars to life the moment Jesse looks up, a playful grin spreading on his face.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
We already hooked up once.
That was supposed to be closure. It was supposed to be a release of emotions, of all the bottling up, to solidify that we no longer hate each other. An end to a long era of wondering.
But I’m not sure Jesse feels that way.
My knees hit the soft edge of the mattress, and as I crawl on all fours toward him, he reaches up, running his rough hands down my body until they stop, holding my hips in a perfect grip.
As I hover over him, my knees on either side of his tapered waist, he stretches up effortlessly to suck my tongue into his mouth, consuming my mind.
I shouldn’t be in here right now.
It’s decidedly wrong, but I am not a good girl.
