Page 53 of Second Chance Vacation

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“Viv—Viv?!” Jackson’s voice pushed through my mind, pulling me back to the current moment.

I look around, my eyes blurred, but the expressions on Wesley's and Savannah’s faces are pure horror. I don’t care. I can’t breathe. I can’t see, I can’t think. My thoughts are muddled. Jackson pulls my face to him, his eyes fixed on my own.

“Breathe. Look at me.” He pushes my face to look at him, my eyes locking on his. “Breathe in through your mouth—out through your nose. Stay with me, Viv—in through your mouth, out through your nose.”

I struggle to listen, my breaths as erratic as my mind. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. Jackson’s hands reach up to find my face, fixing my gaze on his to where I can’t escape him. He repeats himself again,In through your mouth, out through your nose. This time I listen. I struggle to breathe in, but by the tenth or so round of this, I feel my heartbeat steadying.

Shaking, I don’t look away from him. The warmth of his gaze pulls me back to reality, reminding me where I am. I am in France. I am with Jackson, Wesley, and Savannah. I am okay. Despite this, I can’t stop shaking.

“Viv—”

I don’t respond for a minute. Jackson’s brows are pulled together, an expression of anguish seared into my brain.

“I’m okay,” I finally manage to get out.

Without warning, Jackson pulls me to his chest, holding me to him without much room to move. Despite the restriction, I can breathe better. Despite my shaking, I feel much more steady.

“Gen—” Savannah’s quivering voice pulls from my periphery. I don’t respond. I just stand there with my face pressed to Jackson’s shirt. He doesn’t let up his embrace. I tighten my hold around his waist, and he does the same. We stand there like this for what feels like forever. His embrace is unwavering, something I desperately need, even if I can’t find the strength to say it…somehow he knows.

“I’m going to take her back to the house.”

Savannah surprisingly doesn’t protest. She simply nods in our direction as Jackson releases his hold. I lose his embrace, but he doesn’t remove the contact. He is holding my hand in his own so tight I am convinced it may cut off circulation. His pained expression leaves my mind wandering, leaving me desperate for a glimpse into his thoughts.

We ride back to the house in silence, but despite this, he doesn’t break contact. He never breaks contact. At first, I wonder why, but as I seek out his touch to ground me, I see why he does it. It’s for me, not him.

TWENTY-ONE

JACKSON

I’m at a loss for what to do. I tried, desperately, to be what she needed today, but I can’t help but feel like I handled it wrong. Her hair tickles my jaw, eliciting a grin from me. Despite this, I try to stifle it. As I look down at her, nestled against me in the bed we’ve shared for the entire trip, I see her in a new light.

She has always been dead set on maintaining a cool exterior, always keeping me at a distance. Today is the first time I’ve ever seen her this vulnerable, and while I welcome her letting her guard down, I wish it didn’t have to coincide with her being in pain.

I push a piece of hair from her forehead as her gaze meets mine. We haven’t spoken since we got back to the house, but I am eternally grateful that she finally seems peaceful. Her incessant shaking from before finally subsided, leaving me with an otherwise calm, exhausted, but relaxed Gen.

“How are you feeling?” I ask with my lips pressed to her forehead, a muffled question but audible. My stomach churns as I’m met with silence. The only sound I hear is the crickets chirping through the open window.

“I’m okay.”

I am unsure if I believe it.

We continue to lay here, a comfortable silence. If we’ve ever felt best, it has been basking in each other’s silent presence. Gen continues to lie against my chest, silent, but I can see her gears turning. My short-lived comfort sours. I want to know what she’s thinking.

“What's going on in that head of yours?”

Tilting her face up to me, she rests her chin on my chest to meet my eyes. She says nothing as a few moments pass, her eye contact unwavering.

“My mom.”

We never talk about her mom. We never have. I know she died when she was four, but we have never talked about what happened. I know it’s affected her, but she has never wanted to discuss it, and I’m not one to pry.

“What about her?”

Gen sighs, sitting up so as to look at me directly. She bites at her inner cheek, a contemplative crease between her brows.

“Um—” Gen’s expression fully sours, the calm sated expression I had temporarily allowed myself to revel in no longer in sight. “She, um…she died out on the water, Jackson.”

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