JACKSON’S HEART WAS pounding so hard that he thought he was going to be sick as soon as he stepped into the gallery Wednesday night. He had a clear plan of attack in his head, but a part of him wanted to chicken out. Nothing scared him the way Nathan did. And to ask him for his help? That was the height of insanity right there.
But, like Preston had said, Jackson needed to grow a spine and get shit done. This was for Natasha. This was for their future together. Surely Nathan would understand that. It was what got him Preston. He took a leap of faith. Now it was Jackson’s turn to take the same risk.
He scanned the crowd. There were so many people.
Squaring his shoulders, Jackson waded through the masses, keeping an eye out for Natasha’s twin. When he reached the center of the room with white walls and a black-tiled floor, a particular portrait made him pause. He turned to face it and it took his breath away. He could literally feel the air in his lungs being stolen, like a thief had come in the night.
It was Natasha in a dress that seemed to sparkle even if Jackson knew he was looking at a painting. She was standing in a crowded street, the only one different from the rest. That was exactly how he felt about her. She was one of a kind. And the painting captured perfectly the feelings of awe and wonder he felt for her every damn day. He could look at her all night.
Almost immediately, a sense of calm came over Jackson. He knew what he was fighting for. And as he’d promised, he would do anything—anything—to have her back in his life.
With renewed determination, Jackson forced himself to look away from the painting and search for the guy who held his fate in his hands. As if the universe was on his side, the crowd parted to reveal Nathan speaking to a server holding an empty tray in a corner of the gallery space. Jackson gathered all the courage he possessed and took a step toward him.
“You’ve got some nerve showing your face here tonight,” Nathan said. His eyes were so cold his glare almost froze Jackson in place.
“Can we talk?” Jackson asked, glancing at the server. “In private.”
The server walked away, not saying another word.
“I’m not giving you that satisfaction. If you want to talk, I don’t see why we can’t do it here.” Nathan crossed his arms and didn’t budge. “Look, I’m grateful for what you did in Rome last year. Those Maroon 5 tickets were a kind gesture. But that doesn’t erase the hell you put Natasha through after you left and the hell you keep putting her through now.”
“I know that,” Jackson answered honestly. “You have to understand that I’m coming from a good place. I don’t mean to hurt her. And I have no intention of hurting her ever again.”
Nathan snorted. “You say that, but you’re not the one who has to put her back together when she’s sobbing on the floor because of some misguided attempt to win her back. Skydiving? Really?”
“You know she’s always wanted to—”
“Of course.” He cut Jackson off faster than a chef’s knife cut through meat. “But that doesn’t mean you should indulge her in that way. Look what happened afterward: she comes home to me in tears.”
Jackson gritted his teeth. Nathan was angling for a fight. Over and over he reminded himself not to engage. Not to allow the fuse to be lit. He needed Nathan if he was to work things out with Natasha.
“Look,” Jackson said. “I don’t want to fight with you, Nate. I actually came here to ask for your help.”
“My help?” Nathan touched the center of his chest and laughed. “That’s the funniest joke I’ve ever heard. Not in a million years.”
“I’m serious.” He put all his intentions into his next words. “I know I hurt you. You were one of my best friends. You didn’t deserve what I did.”
“Of course I didn’t deserve to be treated like trash,” he said, hurt clear in his tone. “But this is not about me. This is about Natasha.”
“I know.” Jackson reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Take a look.”
Nathan glared at Jackson, then at the sheet in his hand. “What’s that?”
“I want to prove to your sister, and to everyone, that I can be trusted. That I’m here to stay.”
“Fine.” Nathan snatched the paper and unfolded it. Then he gave it a quick glance. “What am I looking at?”
“It’s a copy of the deed to the old music store,” he said.
Nathan’s lips pressed into a tight line. “What are you doing with it?”
“I just bought it.”
For a long moment, Nathan was silent, studying Jackson like he wasn’t sure he’d heard the words right. It was as if he was considering things carefully. A ray of hope shone through the dark clouds hovering above them for Jackson.
“I’m going to convert it into a studio,” he continued, taking the opportunity to explain himself. “When I say I’m here to stay, I mean it.”
“You bought the music store?” Nathan still sounded like he didn’t believe Jackson, but his tone had lost some of its initial frostiness.
He nodded. “I want her back, Nate. I screwed up. I admit that.”
“Then why are you talking to me about it?” Nathan handed back the piece of paper.
Jackson folded it carefully, choosing his words. “No matter what I do, it just looks like I’m hurting her even more. I need your help. Please, Nate, you’re the one who knows her best. What can I do to get her to forgive me?”
There was another moment of silence until Nathan leaned his head back, both eyebrows raised. “Have you tried apologizing to her?”
The idea left Jackson shocked. How could he be such a fool? Planning the grandest gestures in the world and he hadn’t thought to do the simplest, most important thing: actually tell her how sorry he was.
Jackson ran a hand down his face. “I’m such an asshole,” he said against his fingers. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Nathan crossed his arms again and lifted his chin, a smug expression on his face. “Maybe because you’re as dumb as a sack of rocks?”
The question brought with it feelings of inadequacy. What if he really didn’t deserve Natasha because he’d forgotten the simplest thing? Then his gaze landed on the piece of folded paper in his hand. No. He still had to try. It needed to be something personal, something sincere. And he still needed Nathan’s help to get it done.
While his brain worked, a prickle ran down the back of his neck. He knew what the feeling meant. As soon as he turned his head in the direction the feeling was coming from, he locked eyes with Natasha. She was standing across the room, staring right back at him.