AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His words echo in my mind.
I think I’d stolen a piece of him, too.
epilogue
One month later…
I run my fingers over the scar on my cheek. Feeling the slightly raised line has become somewhat of a comfort.
You would think that any reminder of my night with Jackson would be something I’d want to push as far out of my memory as possible, but for some strange reason it’s the complete opposite.
I find myself clinging to those reminders, even though there aren’t many. Just the scar and his sweatshirt. The sweatshirt that I haven’t washed since that night because it smells like him.
When I slide the material over my body and curl up in bed it almost feels like he’s here with me. The only difference? This fucking sweatshirt can’t sink its claws into my mind and twist me up like a pretzel. It can’t cut me open with its cruel words and then stitch me back up with its touch.
Those are things only he can do.
I shouldn’t want him like this. He shouldn’t be what consumes my every waking thought and my nightmares.
All I can give you is one night, but we can make it one that you will never forget.
Why should I settle for one night? Why does Jackson get to make all the rules?
Hell, he broke his own more times than I can count.
My feet are moving before I have time to flip the switch and turn the rational part of my brain back on.
Fuck the rules, and fuck the consequences. What’s the worst that could happen? He says no? That leaves me no worse off than I am right now.
At least I could see him again, even if it is just long enough for him to tell me to fuck off.
What can I say? I’m a sucker for punishment apparently.
My stomach turns over when the bright lights of the looming Ferris wheel come into view. I’m not sure if it’s nerves over seeing Jackson again or the fact that I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.
I didn’t exactly plan to hop in my car and drive four hours to some small town the next state over. I also didn’t think to stop and grab something quick to eat on the way.
The smell wafting from each of the food carts makes my mouth water, but I don’t have time to stop. I am a woman on a mission, and that mission does not include a foot-long corn dog.
The layout of the carnival is similar, though not exactly the same as when they were in my hometown. This place is more of an open field than a true event space. I keep my eyes laser-focused on each of the attractions as I make my way down the walkway.
Carnies yell for me to step right up and throw darts at a wall of balloons or shoot a water gun into a spiraled target for the chance to win a stuffed animal. I keep my gaze straight ahead, not giving any off them the time of day.
Shifty’s comes into view and my heart rate skyrockets.
An empty metal chair sits right before the entrance. I was fully expecting to see Jackson there, leaned back with his black combat boots crossed at the ankles. His arms stretched out behind his head, a look of pure disinterest painted on his sinfully gorgeous face.
I pull the strand of red tickets from my back pocket and tear off two, rubbing my fingers over the thin paper as I wait for him to return.
An older man’s voice says something I can’t quite make out from inside the dark building, and when he comes into view I can’t hide the tidal wave of disappointment that slams into me.
The man gives me a toothy grin and tips his hat when our eyes lock.
“Got a patron, boy,” he calls back to the darkness.
“Fun house is closed.”
The sound of Jackson’s voice makes my skin heat up like I’m suddenly standing way too close to a fire.
