Page 61 of Second Chance Vacation

I glare up at him, and I see the moment in his eyes that he gets the hint.

“I’m not trying to push you. I just—I remember how it was back then, how heartbroken you were. I mean—you were an absolute wreck over her when I met you. As much as I love Gen, I mean, she’s the love of my life’s best friend. I don’t want you to get hurt. I feel like I’m watching history repeat itself. You—giving her everything, and her giving you barely anything in return.”

“You were just pushing me into this…”

“That was until I realized the extent of it. This could end really badly for you.”

His awareness of the situation hits me like a punch to the gut. Knowing it and hearing it from someone else hits differently.

“Yeah—I’m in love with her.” I wince, pulling my bottle to my lips again, downing the last bit of amber liquid.

“Well—fuck.” Wes repeats my same action, guzzling down the remainder of his beer.

Silence falls on us once more, except this time, the comfortable silence we had before is a distant memory. I know with absolute certainty where both of our heads are at. Despite this, I know I am going to head upstairs soon, cuddle up against Gen, and pretend she doesn’t have the ability to rip me into a barely recognizable semblance of the man I am.

TWENTY-FOUR

GEN

Water.

I need water.

My mouth feels like the Sahara Desert. I think I might die if I don’t have water at this very moment. Creeping down the steps to the main floor, I try my best to keep quiet as I pull a glass from the cabinet. Accidentally knocking over a stool, I look around, frantic, hoping no one noticed. I let out a light chuckle as soon as the stool is steady, walking over to the fridge and filling my glass to the brim.

The water I’m gulping down feels like my salvation. I empty the glass in less than ten seconds. I walk back over to the fridge, filling the glass once more to quell my insatiable thirst.

Light coming from the back porch draws my attention. The back patio lights are on, and Wesley and Jackson are sitting by the pool talking. Without a single idea of how much time has passed since I went to bed, I walk over to the window that is open. I intend to startle them until I hear them talking in hushed tones.

“Are you still in love with Gen?”

I freeze in place.

No. No. No.No.

This can’t be happening. I teeter back and forth between wanting to run back upstairs and wanting to listen for his answer. The current topic leaves me with a familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach, the same one that consumed me the day we broke up. This is the beginning of the end.

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s really not. You either love her, or you don’t.”

Jackson resists Wesley’s advances toward an answer while I say a silent prayer for him to just accept his answer.It’s complicated, something Jackson and I can agree on. The second he lets it be known it’s anything else, this entire thing falls apart.

I try to focus on what I’m hearing, but the alcohol coursing through my veins leaves me with a drastic inability to focus. My eyes well up with tears, leaving a blur of two figures sitting by the pool, no longer recognizable.

“Yeah—I’m in love with her.”

And with that, I feel my false sense of security in this situationship with Jackson come tumbling to the ground. Despite his assurance that we could just enjoy our time together, I should have known he would take it too far. I think I’m going to be sick. Whether that is from his revelation or my overindulgence of alcohol, I can’t be sure. Running to the main floor bathroom, I barely make it to the toilet as everything from the day hits the porcelain.

Fuck. Fuck.Fuck.

This can’t be happening.

Tripping up the stairs, I rush back to our room. I pull the blanket up over my head in an attempt to appear to be sleeping. Despite this, my eyes are wide open, a physical manifestation of the knots in my stomach.

The mattress dips beside me, pulling my attention. Jackson scoots in closer to me, pulling me to his chest from behind. Frozen in place, I lay there, squeezing my eyes shut, desperate for him to not realize I overheard their conversation.

This can’t be happening.

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