Never Predicted This

In Jackson’s hands was a small painting. 

It was painted on thick paper, making it look like a photograph. He held it up by the top and bottom so I could see it clearly. And I did. I saw it so clearly that my throat closed up, my eyes stung, and without being told, I knew what it was and who it was about.

“Well?” Jackson pressed when I just kept staring at it with my lips parted. “Say something before you make a man throw up from nerves.”

I looked up at his tight expression and back to the painting, and slowly, so slowly you would think I was disarming a bomb, I reached for the painting. I took it from him with shaking hands. 

“It’s me,” I whispered, my voice too choked up. “It’s me, Jackson.”

“Yes, darling,” he said softly. “It is you.”

In the painting, I was wearing a light blue dress, slit at the thigh, my hair pinned up instead of braided. 

It was nighttime, a venue behind me, trees around me, and even through the painting, you could see my frown. I knew immediately that this was me on the wedding night, stumbling towards him, too drunk to notice. 

But that wasn't even what made me stare at the painting with tears in my eyes: it was what the painting conveyed, how it made me seem. 

There were flowers on the ground, around me, on my hair. Flowers that weren't there that day. 

The fold of my stomach was there. He didn't make it go away magically. No, but it looked softer, feminine, not something I've spent my teenage and adult years hating. The thickness of my thighs was there. My chest. Everything was the same, and yet so… so much more beautiful. It felt like I was looking at someone else. The girl in this painting looked softer, beautiful, less bitter, and… tired.

“You painted me,” I choked out, my vision growing blurry with tears. 

Jackson chuckled softly, the sound too thick. “Unfortunately, I can’t take credit for that. I went to a professional and just told him to paint what I saw.”

I raised my head to look at him, holding the painting out. “And this is what you see?”

His eyes were soft, a tender look making them glisten. “Yes, Siri. That is what I saw.” I was already shaking my head, my jaw moving to say something, but he didn't give me the chance. “That night, I watched you stagger out of the reception hall, drunk out of your bloody mind, cursing those poor bastards, threatening to break their arms or twist their lips, and the first thought I had was, ‘Oh hell no. There’s no way that’s my stepsister.’” 

I scoffed, the sound wet, wiping tears off my cheeks. “Well, ouch.”

He smiled, eyes so soft and bright, and cocky. “I knew then that it was going to be hard keeping my eyes off you. I knew you were trouble.”

I straightened, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Well, I… I did not see that coming.”

“And neither did I, Siri.” 

He shifted closer to me, searching blindly for my hands without taking his eyes off me. When he found them, he raised both hands to his lips and pressed a hard kiss on them. 

“I didn't see this coming. If you had given me a million chances to predict this, that I would fall for the girl who had pinned me against a tree, called me daddy, and flirted without a single shame in this world, I would never have predicted this.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s not go down that memory lane,” I muttered with my cheeks heated, and he just grinned, clearly enjoying how flustered I was.

But then his smile dropped suddenly, replaced by a tender, vulnerable look. 

“What am I going on about, you may wonder? Well, I… I love this, Siri.” He swallowed, his throat bobbing. “I love this fragile, tender bubble we’ve found. And yes, that is how I see you. The girl in that painting is the same girl staring into my eyes right now.” He leaned his forehead on mine, closing his eyes. “And I fell for both of them.”

I shut my eyes, inhaling a shaky breath. “This is too much emotion for me. Can I get a time out?”

He barked out a laugh as he pulled away, smiling so wildly I couldn't help but mirror it. “Sure, my love. We’ll pick up later.” 

“I’d rather not. That’s enough emotion to last me a whole year.”

“Suit yourself then, but I can't promise to behave.” 

“Do you, Jackson.” 

“You will regret those words.”

“Already do.”

I rested back on his chest, his arms once again tight around me, and we watched the setting sun together, no words said, and I came to the conclusion that I loved being Jackson’s girl. And I hoped—hoped against hope—that I would remain his girl. I wanted to, paranoia be damned. 

~.~

We walked into the hotel, hand in hand, heading to the elevator. We stood in front of it, waiting for it to open when Jackson groaned softly. 

“I think I might be a little–”

The elevator door opened, and his words died in his throat, my eyes going wide, my heart slamming hard against my ribcage. Mason and Ethan were also frozen, both their eyes wide as they dropped to our joined hands, and I tugged my hand away, a cold sweat breaking out on my skin, soaking my collar. 

I fought hard not to tremble in front of them, to keep my back straight, but God, I felt that familiar taste of panic, fear, and shame at the back of my tongue.

They weren't there that day. Mason and Ethan weren't in the locker room that night, but words had spread among the boys like wildfire, and in barely a day, they had known all about it. 

And of course, I was the one who took the brunt of everything. Not the monster. So yes, I was ashamed to be standing in front of them. Yes, it brought back bitter memories I wanted to wipe off my head. 

I had lied to Jackson when I said I was staying hidden because of this reputation. This feeling right here was the main reason. My main fear. And it was staring me right now in the face. 

“Oh,” Ethan said softly as his eyes trailed over to Jackson. “That’s your piece of heaven, eh? Our dear Siri?”

Mason grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the elevator. He nodded to Jackson, and then shocked me when he did the same to me. 

“Good night, Cap,” he said as he kept dragging Ethan who still glared at me. “Siri.”

I rushed into the elevator, not wanting to spend another second out there. Jackson stepped in as well, his worried eyes fixed on me. Just as the door was closing, I dared to raise my head to see Ethan looking over his shoulder at me. 

And before the door could close completely, he cupped both hands over his mouth and shouted, “You can do better than that, Cap!”