Page 61 of Redemption
“You deserve more than this. More than I can give you.” More than lies and secrets and…
“Jackson.” She gripped my shirt, her gaze intense. “I don’t want anything but you. But I can’t keep living like this.”
“What are you saying?” I asked.
“I want to tell Greer about us.”
I jerked my head back. “What? We can’t. You know we can’t.”
It wasn’t the first time we’d discussed this, but I thought we were on the same page.
“We can,” she insisted. “We love each other. Surely that will show her how serious we are, right?”
“Maybe,” I hedged, still doubtful. “But if we tell her that we love each other, then she’s going to realize how long we’ve been keeping this from her.”
“What do you think?” Sloan asked as we neared our destination. The wind had shifted, and we were flying through the water, making good time. “Should we stop for the night or press on?”
“How do you feel?” I asked, deferring to her.
She lifted a shoulder, never meeting my gaze. “I’m good to keep going if you are.”
“Maybe a few more hours. Just to put us closer to Turks and Caicos.” And a villa where we’d have more space and less temptation.
“Agreed.” Her tone was cold, distant.
We eventually anchored in about eighteen feet of water, and it was the first time we’d stopped all day. I could see straight to the bottom of the clear blue water, and everything looked good. That said, I didn’t think I could handle another moment on the boat, avoiding the topic of last night. My skin felt hot. Itchy. Like it was too small to contain me.
I gestured toward the water. “I’m going to swim down to check the anchor.”
“Why?” Sloan asked. “It looks good to me.”
“Yeah.” I scrubbed a hand over my head. “Peace of mind and all that.” Though I knew it wasn’t the anchor’s position that was weighing on me.
She considered me a moment. “Okay. Thanks.”
Sloan was in her cabin when I returned, the door closed. I could hear her talking to someone on the phone, and I assumed she was working. Or hell, maybe she was talking to Edward. I groaned.
A plate of dinner waited for me on the counter. Was this what the rest of the trip would be like? Impersonal interactions. Silent days of sailing. Meals alone.
I sighed and showered quickly, carrying my dinner to my quarters when I was done. I did some reading and then tried to sleep, but the boat kept rocking and rolling. Finally, around midnight, I went on deck to check our position but stopped short when I spied Sloan on the sugar sloop. She turned and looked at me over her shoulder. Her skin was bare, apart from a narrow spaghetti strap.
“Sorry. I’ll, uh—” I moved to return below deck, but the look of absolute wonder on her face stopped me in my tracks.
“Jackson,” she whispered, her tone almost reverent. “Come here. You have to see this.”
“See what?” I furrowed my brow and went to join her. The boat no longer rocked and rolled as much as earlier, and I was grateful.
“Look.” She swirled her hand through the water, and it came alive, twinkling as if filled with tiny green stars.
The sight was beautiful, but I was more in awe of her than the bioluminescent bay, cool as it was. Her legs were curled up to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. Her feet were bare, and my eyes cataloged every birthmark, every freckle.
“Incredible, isn’t it?” she asked.
I sank down beside her, mesmerized by the gentle way she moved her hand through the water. For the first time all day, a sense of peace and contentment settled over me. I loved sailing with Sloan, experiencing new things. But these quiet moments with her were what I longed for.
“Do you ever wish you could go back in time?” she mused, her attention still on the water and the almost magical creatures who lived there.
All the fucking time.