“Guess I’m the lady of the house,” I mumble, walking cautiously down the stairs to the front door. There’s a window, right above the wooden door. There’s a person on the other side, holding two bags.
Another knock and I hurry the rest of the way, opening up the door a crack.
“Mrs. Morgan?” the delivery guy asks. He’s older, with grey hair at his temples, and a kind face.
I stare at him blankly. “Who?”
“Mrs. Bliss Morgan.”
It takes me another second to realize that he means me. “Oh.” I swing the door open wider. “That’s me.”
He grins and shakes his head, chuckling, “Newlyweds.” Then he holds up the first bag. “These are for you. Your groom ordered these earlier this afternoon.”
Taking the bag, I peer inside. My head snaps up. “Food?” After the fight we had and the way he’d stormed out, Jackson had still thought of me?
That grin stays, and his cheeks pinken. “That groom of yours said y’all were so anxious to start your honeymoon that he forgot to order his usual.”
Now my cheeks heat. I take the second bag from him, the heavy weight pulling at my arms. Then my stomach flips. “How much do ah… we owe you?”
“Jackson has an account with us.”
“Let me get your tip.” I assume if he drove all the way out here, he would need a tip. I could handle that.
“No need. That husband of yours helped the missus and me when we needed it the most. We had one heck of an insurance deductible when the last hurricane hit. He paid it for us, and that boy won’t let us pay him back. So delivering groceries to his sweet bride while he’s fishing is the least I can do.” Then he tips his hat to me, old-fashioned and sweet. “Take care, ma’am.”
After shutting the door, I haul the bags upstairs and set them on the island. Digging in, the first thing I pull out is a package of cinnamon-flavored hot snaps. I stare at it in amazement, the memory of the time he’d caught me practically salivating over them.
My nose is pressed against the glass, checking out all the candy in the window. We’d stopped in a small town, and I’d seen him go off with Violet.
“See anything you like?” Jackson drawls, his voice close to my ear.
I close my eyes, thinking of the last time he was this close to me. My heart pounds. I have two choices. One: I can ignore him and hope he goes away. Two: I can tell the truth and hope he stays.
“Hot snaps.”
“Spicy candy, huh?”
“When I was a little girl, my mami would let me have them on my birthday, and my daddy would sneak them to me even when it wasn’t my birthday.” I glance at him out of the corner of his eye, to judge his reaction.
“Is today your birthday?” he asks, that cocky drawl gone.
My heart speeds up. “Not until June.”
We turn and face each other.
He gives me an odd look, and I wish and wish for a spark of something to appear.
A piercing whistle startles me, breaking the spell.
He stretches, his shirt opening at the top a little, and I blink at the bruises on his neck. Before I can ask what happened, Jackson walks away. After a few minutes, I do the same, without the hot snaps.
Later that night, when I go to my usual spot in the trailer, carrying the costumes, I find a brightly colored bag tied at the top with a bow.
There’s a card lying beside it, facedown. I turn it over.
Happy Early Birthday.
Gathering the small bag in my arms, I hug it to my chest and think of the first time we met.
The sound of seagulls crying brings me back to the present. It won’t be easy, but I can do this. All I have to do is remember the boy who I discovered crying in his hiding spot, and his promise to save me.
And my offer to save him, no matter what.
Chapter Six
Jackson
A huge pair of boobs are smashed against my face as I grab the shot glass from between them, with my teeth. I tip the glass back and finish it off, never letting my hands touch it or the woman in my lap.
She stands, and saunters away, blowing a kiss over her shoulder.
“I’m pretty sure tradition dictates bachelor parties take place before nuptials.”
I slice my gaze to Cameron. Of course he’s looking at me and not the women on stage, because he’s too mature to be wasting his time here. “You can take your dictate and shove it up your—”
“It doesn’t actually mean dick, you know,” he says.
“I’m not stupid, Cam.”
He takes a pull of his beer. “Not too sure about that.”
I prop my feet up on the table in front of us, ignoring the gyrating bodies on stage. “Enlighten me, Professor.”
“You’ve been crashing at my place for three days now, leaving your bride at home alone. Although, I am exceedingly proud of you for not hooking up with anyone,” he says.