Chapter Twenty-One

Jackson zeroed in on the guy in the mirror and faced his biggest enemy—himself. Writing down his dreams had helped, just as Bandit had helped, and now he was able to accept that he was not guilty of killing Remi. He was not responsible for Iowa’s death. He’d been lucky as a soldier, but he’d also taken precautions.

Emma’s hazel eyes came to mind. He didn’t want regrets in his life, and losing her would be the ultimate in bad decisions. She loved him and yet he’d walked away from that love once before. How stupid could a man be to do it twice?

He shaved the scruff from his neck, angling to make sure he hadn’t missed any rough patches. In the past week, Livvie had come around quickly—the doc said it was miraculous, but Jackson knew it was because of her love for her son. She was in a private room at the hospital, and Matty read out loud to her for hours.

She would need physical therapy to help relearn some motor functions, but she would be home next week. He’d hired a team of people to be with her at the house whenever she was ready to transfer.

They’d talked about being in the service. Well, he had talked while she had listened. Speech was something that was slow to return, but the doc was certain it would. If her eyebrows were anything to go by, then she was supportive of his decision to find a home here in Kingston and transfer to a desk job in Seattle. Dr. Leonard was helping facilitate that.

He’d told Livvie about Emma, and she’d squeezed his hand, a lopsided smile forming as he shared his plan to woo her.

Bandit scratched outside the bathroom door, and Jackson leaned down to splash water over his skin, then patted it dry with a towel. He opened the door, and Bandit eyed him with canine approval. He’d ask Matty, but he was at his friend’s house for the day.

Jackson dreamed of a future with Emma Mercer—not that she knew it. He prayed that she wouldn’t slam the door in his freshly shaved face.

He called, and Aunt Pep answered the house phone. “Is Emma there?”

“Jackson?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The older woman huffed and said, “She isn’t here right now.”

He could face an enemy army, but Emma Mercer had the ability to slay him with one tear. He’d felt the goodbye in her kiss last week but refused to accept it. “Do you know where she is? The shelter?”

“She took Romeo to the dog beach.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Good luck. You’re going to need it.” She hung up with a knowing chuckle.

Jackson wouldn’t surrender until Emma was his.

…

Emma sensed someone staring from the pier and shaded her eyes. She should have known from the tingling in her spine that it was Jackson. She was tempted to grab Romeo, jump into her SUV, and drive away, but that would reek of cowardice, and this time she would not back down.

She’d been here practicing her speech to get him back anyway. It wasn’t quite ready, but it seemed the time was now.

She quickly stuffed the notes in the pocket of her shorts and uncapped her water bottle, taking a fortifying drink.

Jackson entered the dog park, handsome in a navy-blue T-shirt and cargo shorts. His hair had been trimmed and he smelled like home from twenty paces.

“Hey, Em.” He strode toward her, eyes focused and intent.

“How’d you find me?”

“I called your house. Aunt Pepita told me you were here.”

Her sweet aunt needed to stop meddling. “Oh.”

Jackson sat opposite her at the table, giving Romeo a nice scratch behind the ear. The dog went back to dozing, since she’d worn him out already playing fetch.

“I wanted to catch up with you,” he said, reaching for her hand.

She couldn’t be swayed from what she needed to say and wished she could peek at her notes. His gentle clasp of her fingers, twined with his, made her belly heat and her mind race.

“I’m actually glad you’re here,” she said. “How is your sister? Matty? I’ve missed him this last week.”

“Really great. He’s been spending hours a day reading out loud to Livvie. All of those reading assignments were practice, I guess.” Jackson swept his thumb across her knuckles.

“That is good. And how is she?”

“Coming home next week.” His tone held a note of impatience that he tried to hide with a chuckle.

“What?” she asked, searching his face.

“I want to know how you are. I regret how we ended things last week and I…” Jackson trailed off.

“Yes?” Emma sat forward on the bench seat.

“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I’ve traveled miles across the desert, set up camp in the dark, survived being shot at, but telling you that I love you, and that I want to spend my life with you, is…” His green eyes were stormy with emotion.

“You do?” Elated, Emma jumped up from her side of the table and ran around so they were next to each other. “Jackson, I want to be with you. I will travel the world and see it with you.” She curved her hands over his shoulders, hanging on tight. “I just want to be at your side. I thought I was being so safe and smart, keeping my heart under lock and key, but you’ve had it all this time.”

Jackson swept his arms around her and brought her to sit on his lap on the bench. Looking into her eyes, he searched, until he found the truth of her love blazing within—it couldn’t be contained. He cupped her head and kissed her so thoroughly she saw stars.

“Are you sure?”

She slowly nodded to clear her dazzled mind. “Oh, yes.” Pulling a sheet of paper from her pocket, she said, “I have notes. A plan.”

He smoothed one on the table, his left arm tight around her hips as he kept her close. He read, “Love me.”

Jackson lifted her chin and held her gaze. “I do love you, and I was a fool for ever leaving.”

“I should have told you that you were what mattered most. I didn’t know.” Her brow scrunched. “I think we were too young then, but now?” She pressed her hand against his thumping heart. “Now is the best time for us.”

“You’re not the only one with a plan,” he said, reaching into his back pocket. Emma made no move to leave the comfort of his lap.

“What do you have?” She rested her open palm above his heart.

“This is for you.” He handed her an envelope, and she carefully pulled out the deed to the piece of land next door to her aunt’s property. The one she’d wanted for her shelter.

“Jackson!” Her body trembled with a torrent of emotion. “How?”

He smoothed a hair back from her cheek. “I heard how upset you were by the sale, the loss of your dream, and I called and offered a higher bid on the property. I want to make sure that you know how important you are to me.”

She’d never been more certain of anything in her life. “I’m willing to move with you, though. If you want… Wherever you want to go. You are what I need.”

“What about your doctorate?” His arm tightened around her waist.

“I went to see Professor Collard yesterday, and he gave me the names of three different psychologists willing to work with me, without a nine-to-five schedule. He confessed that he’d given me that deadline to make me realize what I wanted, which is to be a doctor.”

He eased back a fraction to really look at her with pride. “You did it all—the studying, the work. I’m glad you figured out your perfect solution.”

“With your nudge.” Emma put her hand on his thigh, and the muscle jumped the slightest bit at her touch. She rubbed her thumb softly over the fabric. His eyes dilated as her thumb circled his sizable quad. Jackson stood from the bench and pulled her up, into his arms, holding her so close her breath hitched.

He looked down into her eyes, his expression serious—his embrace making her feel infinitely precious.

“What would you think if I transferred to Seattle?”

“Are you joking?” She was afraid to look away. “Can you?”

“Yes, Dr. Leonard is helping me with a letter about my PTSD. I will stay in the Marines, but I won’t be going on deployment. That is, if you’re okay with that? I want us to make these decisions together. You were right that I never gave us a chance to talk ten years ago.”

His words were a balm to her heart.

“I love you,” she said. He covered her mouth with his, capturing her words and taking them with the firm press of his lower lip. He tilted her back, firing kisses down her throat, up to her waiting mouth again. His whole being exuded love. She felt it in his caress, in the protection of his arms as he cradled her close to his wildly beating heart.

“I love you, Emma.” His hand dropped to her hip, and she snuggled cheek to cheek.

Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them back.

He gently sucked her lower lip, and her knees buckled.

The rush of feelings made her thankful for the table at her back. How was she supposed to stand up straight? He trailed warm kisses across her collarbone. She sighed and tilted her head back.

“I can take care of you,” he said. “And when I’m not working, I will help you build your training shelter.”

“I can take care of you,” she countered, balancing on one elbow. “I’m a doctor, you know.” Close enough, she thought, to take it seriously.

Joy erupted, and she couldn’t stop grinning. A lifetime of Jackson Hardy?

Oorah.

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