Dirty, Reckless Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 3)

I watched the numbers click by on the digital clock beside the bed, unable to sleep but uninterested in facing the day, and twenty minutes later, I heard Levi’s steps in the living room.

I’m not avoiding him so much as what comes after that—going home and talking to Colton. Telling him I know where he spent his night just makes it too real. It’s time to let him go, but that doesn’t mean it won’t hurt.

Then there’s everything that happened with Levi last night. And everything that didn’t happen but could have—if he were different or I were. I can’t deny the slow, hot pull of attraction I felt when he stared at my mouth and told me he couldn’t sleep in this bed without taking advantage of me. What does it say about me that I wanted him to? The thought alone would give Colton all the excuse he needed to swing at Levi. It doesn’t matter that nothing happened.

For the last two and a half years, I’ve been very careful about the way I looked at Colton’s best friend. Colton’s anger may be as easily lit as a match, but once ignited, it’s more like a detonated bomb—not nearly so easy to extinguish. He’s always had a temper, but it’s worse when he’s been using. Not that I can tell when he uses anymore. He hides it better than he used to. He pretends he’s clean, and I pretend I believe him. It’s amazing the things we endure when we fall in love with the best version of a person. We become afraid to lose them even at their worst.

When the smell of coffee drifts to me, I decide it might be worth getting up. After climbing out of bed, I open the door to find a neat stack of my clothes waiting for me in the hallway. Levi must have folded them and put them there for me this morning so I wouldn’t have to leave the bedroom half clothed again.

I take the stack and pull on my underwear and jeans, leaving the top button unsnapped. I’m fourteen weeks pregnant today, and I haven’t gained weight and don’t have a visible bump, but my clothes are already starting to fit differently. A little tight at the waist. A lot tight across the chest.

I stop by the bathroom on my way to the kitchen and use some of Jake’s toothpaste on my finger in an attempt at brushing my teeth. My hair is in wild waves around my face, and I can only lightly finger-comb it without turning it to a big ball of frizz. When I’ve done the best I can with my limited supplies, I stare at myself in the mirror for a long beat.

I don’t even know who this girl is. She’s lonely, scared, and tired. I’ve never been as tired in my life as I have been the last two months. Ava tells me it’s the pregnancy hormones, but I think it might be the boyfriend. The circles under my eyes have gotten darker, but today they’re overshadowed by the bandage across my forehead and the scrape along my jaw.

I didn’t bother with a bra last night before going out to search for Colton, and the outline of my pregnancy-swollen breasts is clear even through this baggy T-shirt. I can’t decide if I look more like an overworked mother who’s given up on beauty or a hungover co-ed slinking out of a guy’s room the morning after a wild party. I want to think it’s more the latter, but I’m pretty sure I’m kidding myself.

I head to the kitchen where Levi is leaning against the counter. He’s in jeans and a gray, ribbed tank that’s molded to his torso and makes me all too aware of every muscled inch of him. “Good morning,” I say. His gaze moves from the coffee in his hand to me.

I catch myself looking for the heat in his eyes

I saw last night. I don’t think I realized how much I missed being looked at, being seen and desired. Colton and I have had our fair share of problems, but his attraction to me was something I took for granted until he inexplicably pulled away. But with Levi’s eyes on me, I realize I’m hungry for any sort of validation. All the insecurities this pregnancy has brought on—financial, emotional, and physical—demand to be appeased by the simple reassurance of being desirable. As petty or shallow as that may be, it remains true.

Levi’s gaze snags on my chest, and I swear his nostrils flare for a beat before he lifts his gaze back up to meet mine. I let myself revel in this superficial substitution for acceptance. Did he lie on the couch thinking about me? Is it bad that I hope he did?

The angel on my shoulder is disgusted. Get it together, Ellie. You’re having Colton’s baby.

And Colton was with Molly last night, the devil on my shoulder says.

I push away my jumble of thoughts. “Is there enough of that for me?” I ask, waving to the coffee pot.

Levi nods. “Help yourself. Sugar in the cupboard, cream in the fridge.”

I nod, careful to pour myself only half a cup. I’ve been weaning myself off caffeine since the stick showed me that tiny pink plus sign, but I hate decaf, so thus far I still allow myself a half cup of the regular stuff each morning. Because a Jackson made this pot, I know it’s bound to be worth every sip.

I doctor my coffee, and my spoon clinks against the side of the mug as I stir in a spoonful of sugar and a dash of cream. “Colton texted this morning.”

“Did he?”

I keep my gaze on the light brown brew. “He wanted to know why I wasn’t at home.” My voice sounds stilted, almost robotic, and I clear my throat. I’m a little numb to all things Colton McKinley this morning. I have to protect my heart, and he’s been slowly breaking it for the last two months. “I think he’s worried I’m cheating on him.”

“That’s ironic.”

“I thought so.” I close my eyes as I take my first taste. When Levi laughs, I look at him. “What?”

He smirks. “You’re moaning.”

I shrug. “It’s excellent.”

“As good as Shay’s?”

“No one’s coffee is as good as Shay’s.” But it’s damn close. I swear, God made the Jacksons to brew good beer and strong coffee.

“We’ve got Jackson family brunch this morning. Want to join me? Get your mind off everything for a bit? Ava will be there, and I’m sure Lilly would love to see you.”

My chest warms at the invitation. I always wished I could have had a family like the Jacksons. There are so many of them. Any time you’re with one Jackson, there’s bound to be another close by. They dish out no small amount of shit, but they’re always there for each other. I, on the other hand, grew up with a mother who spent long days working to try to make ends meet and a sister too busy with problems of her own to share secrets or make new traditions. Growing up, I would’ve killed for what they have. Hell, I’d kill for it now. Especially now.

“No thank you,” I say. “I really need to talk to Colton.”