Page 70 of Love Wells Kept

Jackson takes a sip of coffee, catching my eye again.

Colt rocks back and forth on the wooden stool tucked in tight against the counter, frantically gripping the edge seconds before he careens backward. Beryl scolds him, because of course she does. And Denny lunges in his general direction, as if he’s going to push him the rest of the way over.

“Damn, wish I was going fishing today.” Colt shoots a pointed look at his boss, Austin. “Nothing I love more than relaxing with a rod in my hands.”

Denny winks. “That’s what she said.”

“That’s what who said?” Beryl lifts a brow. “Is Blair going fishing with you?”

Austin breaks first with a bark of a laugh that catches him by surprise, and the rest of the room follows suit. Even me. I’m laughing, though it quivers in my throat and threatens to become sobs.

“No…” Denny chokes on his coffee, coughing and smacking the side of his fist against his sternum. “No, Blair’s not going fishing. I was…God, I don’t want to have to explain this to you.”

I look at Beryl. “It’s a joke. An inappropriate one…about rod holding.”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on her deeply tanned face. “You perverts.”

The guys are still giggling like a group of preteens when Jackson’s hand skates across the counter edge to bump my arm. “Can we talk before I go?”

I nod, letting his fingers slip between mine, and follow him quietly into the still-dark hallway until the voices and kitchen noise have dissipated and I’m standing in the middle of our bedroom, staring at his tired, pale face.

I’m sad. Frustrated. And, quite frankly, so fucking tired of being the one who has to single-handedly keep this family afloat.

Even though living with a husband you can’t kiss or touch or really talk to is a special kind of hell, I was happy to do it because I love him. And even though I knew it in my heart, I didn’t need to hear him say that he doesn’t love me.

Before Jackson can begin fumbling an apology I’m not sure I’m cut out to hear, I tell him, “I want to say something. Last night…I know you weren’t trying to hurt me. You were being honest, and I appreciate that.”

He opens his mouth and I hold up a hand, insisting he let me finish.

“But I need you to understand that it did hurt me. All the memories you don’t have anymore…they’re all I have. That’s my entire life. And the thought of losing all that, and you never loving me again, absolutely fucking guts me. You’re my husband and…” My heart beats violently and a solitary tear wiggles free from my tear duct. I sniff. “And I’ll always make sure you get the medical care you need, but…I can’t keep doing this”—my index finger draws circles to signify us—“if there’s no light at the end of the tunnel.”

He rubs his fingers across his lips, staring at where my hand’s still suspended in the empty space between us.

“That said, I won’t beg you to love me, Jackson. If it comes back, it can’t be because I coerced you into it.”

I’m not the kind of girl who begs to be loved. Lord knows I did enough of that with my own parents growing up. Even when I showed up in his doorway the night before I was supposed to leave the ranch all those years ago, it wasn’t to beg or plead or convince him I should stay. I simply gave him the option to let me go, knowing if he loved me half as much as he said he did, he’d force me to stay.

I suppose the difference is back then my actions were bolstered by my confidence in his love for me. Now all I have is foolish hope. Hope is a bit of a plea, in and of itself, isn’t it?

A burst of air blows from his nose. “That doesn’t sound like something a bully would say.”

“Told you I’m not a bully. Just a girl who takes caring for the people she loves extremely seriously…even if that love is unrequited.”

Never thought I’d find myself in a marriage with someone who doesn’t love me back.

Jackson sinks onto the edge of the bed, making it dip, and gently pats the space next to him. For a moment, I hesitate—the simple act of accepting an invitation to sit down feels like letting him win. Then he looks up at me, and I realize there’s no fight to be had here. He’s as lost as I am.

So I sit.

“I’m sorry.” Jackson breathes out the words like they’ve been weighing on him this whole time. “Everything I said last night came out wrong, and I’m…I’m scared, Kate.” Seemingly absentmindedly, he strokes the craniotomy scar. “I’m scared I’ll never be able to live up to what everybody expects out of Jackson Wells, and you’ll end up disappointed when you look at me one day and see a man who’s nothing like the person I was before. And if I let myself be selfish—enjoy you now—I’ll risk hurting you.”

I spin the thin gold wedding band on my finger. “You think you’re the same person you were when I met you sixteen years ago? I can handle you changing. You might spook easy. I don’t. But if you’re saying all this because you’re scared to admit you don’t want to kiss me or touch me or…don’t want to be married to me…” The hot prickle of unshed tears presses against the backs of my eyes, and the thunderous heartbeat in my ears drowns out all other sound. “Don’t bullshit me. Tell me there’s no light at the end of the damn tunnel.”

A tiny head shake sends bile creeping up my throat, and I will myself not to completely break down. Jackson takes hold of my hand and the calluses padding his thumb rub over my knuckles. Our joined hands tuck into his lap, and he frowns at me, eyes scanning my face.

“I’m not giving up on us. When I was in the hospital, you were the only good part of my day. I kept thinking to myself—and talking my nurses’ ears off—about how damn lucky I am to have a wife like you. I’m the problem here. I don’t know if I’ll ever deserve you, Kit.”

“You do, and you always have.”