Dirty, Reckless Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 3)

I don’t have to scroll too far before those broad shoulders fill my screen. And his smile—I sit back in my seat. He’s gorgeous when he’s all brooding and angry, but his smile puts him over the top. His name is Levi Jackson, and his account says he’s a motocross racer. That’s what Mom told me Colton did . . . before. Is that how Levi and Colton are connected? Friends through work?

There’s a picture of Levi from July. He’s holding a baby, and the caption says, “All the Jackson men are madly in love with Jackson Maddox.” Levi’s sitting on a dark leather sofa, grinning down at the infant, and my heart swells.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a beat over my own loss. It’s easier when I forget I had a pregnancy I can’t remember, but the reminders are everywhere. Little stabs of heartache that always strike when I’m unprepared. And I’m never prepared.

There are a few pictures of Levi racing a dirt bike. A few look like official promotional pictures for motocross races.

I recognize Colton in the photos. There are a lot of pictures of Levi and Colton together. In some, they’re sweaty with helmets in hand after a race. In others, they’re cleaned up and smiling for the camera.

I’m more surprised when I see pictures of the three of us together.

In one from July, we’re on the beach. The boys are both wearing board shorts—their bare chests tanned and muscular—and I’m standing between them in a bikini with an arm draped over each guy’s shoulders. Me, my fiancé, and the sexy stranger I made love to at least once. Made love. Could it have been making love if I was marrying Colton? But there are no other words to describe what I remembered at the bar—Levi looking into my eyes as he slid into me. “No regrets.”

I put my hand over my mouth. I’m not just learning about these strangers. I’m learning about myself. What kind of person did I become? Engaged to an addict? Sleeping with his best friend? The memory was only a blip, but it was enough that I know it’s true. But like the names, it sits in my mind without context. Was that before or after Colton and I were engaged? Before or after I got pregnant?

Was the baby even Colton’s?

I go to my own profile and scroll through the posts, but it’s cluttered with “Get well soon!” notes, and half of them are from names and faces I don’t recognize. I click on my pictures, and everything inside me stills when I see a picture of Colton on his knees, kissing my still-flat belly.

I put my hand on the arm of the chair, close my eyes, and breathe through the unbearable ache in my chest.

I log out of my account and close the laptop. That’s enough for tonight.

Sunday, October 21st

I’m awake before the sun’s up. I tossed and turned for a few hours, but I’m not sure how much of my time in bed qualifies as sleep. This morning, I’m as restless as ever and ready to dig a little more.

Since Mom will be up soon, I don’t return to her computer. I assume my own laptop is still at my house back in Jackson Harbor with most of my other belongings, so I plug in my phone and press the power button.

I hold my breath as I watch it come to life. The notifications for text messages, emails, and voicemails pop up on the screen one after another.

I open the text message application, and the most recent messages are at the top. The newest one was sent last week from Ava.

The next most recent thread is from Levi, and I scroll up and frown when I realize there aren’t any messages from before the night I was assaulted. Did the police clear my phone, or did my family do that? Would I have done that?

The oldest message from Ava is from the twenty-ninth of September, the day after I woke up at Northwestern Memorial Hospital, and there’s a new one every few days or so.

Ava: We drove to Chicago to visit but your mom asked us to leave. I just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you.

Ava: Anything I can bring you? If you don’t want visitors, I could just leave it with the nurses. Anything at all.

Ava: I miss you.

Ava: I only get your voicemail when I call. I heard you’re home now. They still haven’t found Dad or Colton.

Then there’s her last message, sent a week ago.

Ava: I don’t know what I did to upset you, but I wish you would talk to me about it. Nic and I are addressing wedding invitations tonight, and I can’t stop thinking that I’m supposed to be doing this with my best friend. Tell me how to fix this.

Guilt lodges painfully in my throat. I don’t remember Ava, but I no longer believe she was some dark, criminal influence on my life.

I back out of that thread and move to the one labeled Levi Jackson. The message is from two weeks ago, the day after I was released from the hospital. It’s short but it makes my chest ache.

Levi: Why don’t you ever let me say goodbye?

Levi

I might never see her again.