Page 78 of Sweet Like Whiskey

My breath puffs out of me. “Not fair. You’re using logic against me.”

“Is it working?”

“Unfortunately,” I reply, grabbing Jackson’s wrists. My heart is pounding. My throat tight. “It’s not going to be easy for me, Jack. My last relationship felt centered around that part of my life, and I don’t want that again. To feel like I’m just a list of undiagnosed medical problems.”

“I don’t see you that way.”

“That’s all well and good, but I’d still rather pretend I’mnormal.”

“Ashley, I’m pretty sure your mother ensured that’d never happen the day she named you.”

It takes me a beat, but then I’m laughing.Hard. “Jackass,” I mutter.

Jackson looks proud of himself, the corner of his mouth hitching into the tiniest smile. It evens out when he says, “Ignoring something doesn’t make it go away.”

“I’m well aware,” I reply pointedly.

He winces, letting go of my face. “I’m sorry. All I’m asking is that you don’t expect me to look away every time you’re hurting. ’Cause I don’t think I can do that.”

“Fuck, Jack,” I groan, knocking my head back against the seat. “Why do you have to be so sweet? It makes it impossible to be mad at you.”

“I’m not—”

“Sweet. Yeah, I know.”

Except he is. But for whatever reason, Jackson doesn’t want to show that to the world. He wears his gruffness like a shield. Protection, maybe. Innate or learned, he does his very best to hide his soft underbelly.

He’s let me see it, though.

“I won’t ask you to ignore if I’m hurting,” I tell him. “And I’ll try to speak up when I’m having a hard time. But don’t push it. Don’t start treating me like I’m—”

“Weak,” he fills in. “Yeah, I know.”

Smartass.

“And I won’t,” he says, the words sincere enough that I have no choice but to believe him.

I nod, let out a breath, and restart the vehicle.

When Jackson and I get back to the ranch, it’s midafternoon. I pull the UTV into the same spot we left from just as my phone rings.

“Joy,” I mutter, looking at the display.My ex. “Hello?”

“Ashley,” Nicholas greets. “I was hoping we could talk.”

I close my eyes, keeping my exhale quiet. His next words make me feel marginally better.

“Before I go.”

“Give me a sec,” I tell him. Muting the call, I turn to Jackson. “Any objections to me seeing my ex before he heads home?”

Jackson’s brow furrows slightly. “Are you asking me if I trust you? Because the answer is yes.”

Well, Christ on a cracker. “I’ll make it quick.”

“Up to you,” he says, pulling me in by the back of the neck. His eyes hold mine for a moment before he kisses me.Soundly. I feel faint by the time he pulls back. “See you at dinner.”

“Mhm,” I manage.

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