Page 57 of Second Chance Vacation

It’s a pleasure-filled gaze, but now it shifts to something else that I can't quite place, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

Jackson pulls out of me, leaving me achingly empty. He rushes to the bathroom to grab a washcloth. The sound of the sink turning on and off is the only sound that fills the air.

He comes back into the room and cleans me up meticulously in his motion, wiping over my sensitized core gently. Tossing the washcloth in the hamper, he smiles.

Once he collapses on the bed next to me, he wraps me in his arms, and I can't help but melt into him. I'm grasping so tightly to my laurels, trying with every fiber of my being to keep him at arm's length. Despite that, I know he’s weaseled his way into my chest in a way that is irreversible.

This man makes it impossible. I'm beginning to think I'd give him anything, even myself, if it means another moment with him.

I drift off to sleep, this time without a thought in my head except for Jackson.

* * *

“Hey, can we talk for a second?” Savannah asks as she walks down to me, sitting by the pool.

I got up early for the first time in days, and I can honestly say I'm exhausted. Everything about yesterday has really just drained me entirely.

While I'm glad to talk to Jackson about everything that happened, I still hate that I had to relive it, and I'm also really embarrassed that I had such a visceral reaction to the boat.

“Yeah, sure. What's up?” I respond to Savannah. She reaches over and puts down the Kindle that I've been glued to since 6:00 AM.

“Yesterday.” Savannah pauses. “What happened?”

I look up at her, unsure of what to say.

I’m not entirely sure how to respond without telling her everything. She has always given me the opportunity to talk about what's going on with me, but this is just something that I don't like to talk about. All I know is that I'm so glad Jackson was there. He, at the very least, had some sort of understanding of how I've reacted in the past to something similar.

“It's complicated.”

She makes eye contact with me, and I realize for the first time that she looks utterly exhausted. The blue and purple shadows smudged below her eyes, mixed with her slow-to-approach demeanor, lends me to believe that she didn't get much sleep last night. Savannah is normally always put together, but as I look at her, I realize she’s clearly off.

“Are you okay?” I ask, my brows pulling together.

“Of course I'm okay. That's not what I'm worried about. I'm worried about you.”

I should have known she wouldn't let me derail her questioning.

“I’ve always had this thing about oceans and lakes. Ever since I was little, they've terrified me,” I respond, not looking into her eyes.

“Why didn't you ever tell me about that?”

She doesn’t have a shred of judgment in her disposition.

“It's not something I like to talk about.”

“So Jackson knew about it?” she asks, treading lightly.

I shrug, letting a breath out as my shoulders drop.

“Yes and no. I talked to him about why last night. But things like that, like what happened yesterday? It happened a few times when we were kids.”

I continue on to tell her about when Jackson's family took me to the lake with them, but I steer away from bringing up my mom. It's not that I don't trust Savannah. I’m just so exhausted from talking about it. Then again, I'm not sure how I'll feel if I have to talk it through again any time soon.

“You know I'm always here for you, right?”

“Of course I know that,” I say, squeezing her hand while picking my kindle back up.

We’ve been in rocky territory since we got to France, but that hasn't shaken that I know with absolute certainty that Savannah always will and always has cared. She grabs me by the arm and pulls me into a hug, squeezing me tighter than she ever has. Her hair smells of clean linen and jasmine. The familiar scent of the shampoo she’d recommended making me smile.

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