Page 38 of Redemption

I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breathing with my back to the door. But Jackson immediately came to mind, and my fingers curled of their own accord.

His chest and arms were covered in tattoos, more than ever before. I could remember lying on his chest and asking about all of them. I’d wanted to hear the story behind each as I traced them with my fingers. My tongue. I still wanted…

No. I punched down a pillow as I climbed into bed. It didn’t matter what I thought I wanted; what I needed was sleep. I was overtired. I hadn’t slept well the past few nights, and I wasn’t thinking clearly. But my body didn’t listen to reason. It never had when it came to him.

I woke to the gentle rocking of the boat and the scent of something delicious floating to me from the kitchen. A glance at my watch told me it was almost six in the morning. I logged on to my computer and checked my emails, quickly responding to the few that Halle had sent. I was finishing up an email to Jasper, and I could hear the rumble of Jackson’s morning voice as he spoke with someone. A woman. I frowned.

I pulled on some clothes then headed to the bathroom to wash my face. As I dried my cheeks, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I looked tired. And the lines at the corners of my eyes didn’t help.

I wondered what Jackson thought when he saw me. Did he still find me attractive? I applied sunscreen then lip gloss, fluffing my hair. I stilled my hands and huffed, annoyed with myself for caring what he thought about me or how I looked. I yanked my hair into a braid and headed out.

I found Jackson on deck, chatting with a woman in a bikini top and cutoff shorts.

“Morning, hayati.” He smiled, pulling me to him and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

Hayati. I hadn’t heard that word in years. And only ever from Jackson.

I stilled, wondering if I’d somehow bumped my head last night. I placed a hand over my stomach as if to make the butterflies there stop. Please make it stop.

“Cheri, this is Sloan. Sloan, Cheri.” Jackson made the introductions. “Cheri and her friends are headed down to Turks too.”

The sailing community was a welcoming one, and it was always nice to connect with fellow travelers. We talked about the weather—a source of endless conversation for sailors. And the places we’d been.

“Morning,” I said, my insides still fluttering from the sound of the word hayati on his lips.

Years ago, after much persuasion, Jackson had finally relented and agreed to tell me the meaning. Hayati meant “my life,” the term stemming from the Arabic word for life. Hayati was a common term of endearment in the Arabic world, and I’d always assumed he’d learned it on one of his missions, despite his unwillingness to confirm my theory. But as he’d once explained, using hayati expressed that his love for me was so strong, his life would be nothing without it.

I tried to study Jackson’s expression for clues. Had he purposely called me hayati, or was it a slip? My brain was in knots—the weight of his arm both distracting and familiar.

Cheri shielded her eyes from the sun, and I turned my attention to her. “We leave in a few days. And we’re on the Knotty Buoy if you need anything.”

I laughed. “Thanks. Love the name. And feel free to radio us.”

We said our goodbyes, and then she headed back to her boat.

“Sleep well?” Jackson asked, releasing me.

“Well enough,” I murmured, still thrown by that forehead kiss.

“Winds look good. Averaging about fifteen knots from the southeast.”

“Um…what was that about?” I asked, hooking my thumb over my shoulder to indicate where Cheri had gone.

“What?” Jackson’s face was neutral.

“The side hug. The forehead kiss.” Why was he acting like nothing out of the ordinary had occurred?

“I should’ve mentioned it sooner. When we go ashore or meet other sailors, it’s probably best to act like we’re a couple, at least when we’re not staying at a Huxley Grand.”

“Is it?” I didn’t know what to make of that.

“From a security standpoint, yes. And it’s a good cover story.”

“Okay.” I didn’t disagree. “And what exactly would pretending to be a couple entail?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Like what we just did. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

Not complicated. Right.

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