Page 83 of And Now, Back to You

“I’ve been ready. You’re the one back there having a moment.”

The wind howls, the snow screams, and I smile so wide my face hurts.

“On the count of three, okay?” Jackson gives a single, sharp nod. “One, two, th—”

I mean to push him over the edge that leads to the shallow slope, but I lose my footing right as I shout “three!” I fall forward with a shriek, my knees digging into the back of the tube, my arms across Jackson’s shoulders. He immediately grips both of my forearms as the added weight and sudden momentum move us forward, and together we go rocketing down the hill; me shrieking in delight in Jackson’s ear, him holding on for dear life.

With both of us on the sled, we go so much faster. We barrel down the hill on the side of the parking lot and everything blurs around us. Snow, sky, snow, sky. I curl my arms around Jackson’s shoulders as we go bumping along and burrow my face in his neck, laughing like a madwoman with every rough bounce of the sled.

With my other attempts, I slowed to an anticlimactic stop at the bottom of the hill. With Jackson’s added weight, we skid right past my previous finish line and over the two smaller hills at the bottom. At the crest of the first, I go airborne, landing with another scream directly in Jackson’s ear, my knees hugging his sides. At the second, Jackson loses his grip and we both go flying off.

Jackson does his best to take the brunt of it as we hit the ground, but we’re going too fast and our position is too awkward. We land and roll, the force of it crushing at my lungs, a dull pain somewhere near my hip. Jackson’s fuck is low and rough in my ear and then we’re still, my body splayed above his in the snow.

We lie there, silent, two victims in a horrible doughnut sled accident.

“Are you okay?” I wheeze, patting at his chest where I can reach, one hand still fisted in the material of his jacket, the other wedged somewhere under his ass. I don’t know what it says about me that in a crisis, I immediately reached for his very solid backside.

I suppose subconsciously, I was looking for support.

Jackson’s chest trembles under my cheek and I go still. My god, I’ve killed him. I forced him outside in the middle of a storm, forced him into the sled, forced him down the hill, and now I’ve killed him.

Or possibly maimed him for life. It’s not clear.

I try to leverage myself up on my elbows to get a good look at him, but we’re pressed together neck to knee and my legs keep slipping in the snow.

Two hands grip my hips and squeeze.

“Delilah,” Jackson grunts, his voice thin. He can barely manage my name. “Stop moving.”

“Are you okay?” I ask again, feeling frantic. I don’t want him hurt. I don’t want to be the reason he hurts. His hands on my hips lift and pull, setting me firmly across his body. He holds me still.

“Delilah,” he says again.

Jackson is splayed out in the snow, his hat gone, his blond hair a mess against the fluffy white behind him. There are snowflakes on his coat, across his crooked glasses that I think I might have broken for a second time, and he’s—

He’s laughing.

Jackson is laughing so hard his eyes are scrunched shut, his body trembling beneath mine.

I stare at him, stupefied.

He lifts his head and cracks one eye open. He sees the look on my face and laughs harder.

My heart turns over in my chest. Like this, he looks so much younger. Happier. Unburdened by all the weight he carries around with him.

I cup his face in my hands, wanting to hold on to this moment. On to him. His laughter slows but his smile stays, settling into something heartbreakingly tender while his head drops back in the snow. I rub my thumbs over his cheeks and feel the rush of it. The magic. Snow and sky and us smack-dab in the middle of it, cold slipping through the tops of my boots and prickling at my skin. Jackson looking at me like maybe it feels like magic for him too.

Another gust of wind torpedoes around us and I burrow closer. My lips are numb, my fingertips tingling in my gloves. Jackson’s gaze slips over my face, settling on my mouth and holding there. That boundless, weightless feeling in my chest amplifies. Like hitting that second hill but wilder. Unrestrained.

The storm, and the snow, and Jackson. Jackson. Always looking right at me.

“You feel it, right?” he asks, his eyes searching mine. “Whatever this is. You feel it?”

I need to be careful with this. Jackson wants a vacation from who he is in the real world. He wants to prove to himself that he can let go of all the rigid structures that hold him in place. Nothing good comes from pretending to be someone else for a little while.

But I nod, because I do feel it. This boundless, yearning impossible thing. Glowing, glowing, glowing like all the hidden stars behind the clouds.

I can’t lie. Not about this. Not to him.