“Thank you,” I say, feeling those words deeply, while also regretting the need for them.
“I have to go, but I’m aiming to get up there sooner if I can.”
“We’re good here, Ashton. You don’t need to drop everything to race up here to see me.” I know my friend, though, and his need to see for himself that those he loves are okay. He’d have met me here yesterday if he could have.
“It’ll probably just be me. Lorelei’s busy with work.” He stops talking before muttering, “Fuck, I have to go.”
With that, he ends the call and I slip my phone back into my pocket.
My attention shifts to Jessica as she exits the house and comes my way. As hard as I try, I can’t take my eyes off her. That black pantsuit of hers with those heels is sexy as hell. It screams power and confidence; two things Jessica wears better than anyone.
“Seriously, Jack,” she says, “You have all this land, and this tiny shack is the best you can do to fill it?”
I chuckle. Jessica always did like the finer things in life, including space and luxury. “Sweetheart, this isn’t a shack.”
“It is.”
I start pulling her suitcases out of the boot. “I love it when you talk dirty to me. Let’s keep this up for your entire visit.” Jessica is my favourite sparring partner. She never gives me an inch.
She shoots me one of her bored looks. The one I’m almost certain she reserves for me. “Let’s not.”
“Jesus,” I say as I struggle with the last suitcase in her car. “What the hell have you got in here?” It weighs a ton.
“A girl needs supplies if she’s going to stay in the middle of nowhere, Jack.”
“What could a girl possibly need out here?” My property is on twenty acres of land overlooking the Nymboida River about forty minutes out of Grafton. We’re surrounded by trees, trees, and more trees. She’ll be lucky to see another human the entire time she’s here. Whatever she has in that suitcase is shit she’s not going to need.
With a sigh and a shake of that beautiful head of hers, she says, “You have no idea about women.” With that, she takes one of her bags and leaves me to go inside. Again, I track her ass every step of the way. I might be here to work on my addictions, but my addiction for Jessica isn’t one I’m even close to walking away from. I’d happily get high on her for the rest of my life if I could.
A text sounds from my phone and I pull it from my pocket to check the message.
Josephine: Tell me you fired that bitch of a manager of yours.
Jack: Yes. Why?
Josephine: She’s responsible for this.
She sends me the link to a news article that I open.
Jack Kingsley Screws & Snorts His Way To Career Suicide is the heading. I don’t bother to read the article. It’s a pile of shit I don’t need to ingest, and I’m surprised Josephine sent it because she usually doesn’t read this kind of garbage.
Jack: I’m not reading that, Jo.
Josephine: I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sent it, but I was so worked up over it that I couldn’t think straight.
Josephine: How are you? Is Ashton with you?
Jack: Not Ashton. He sent Jessica.
Josephine: Are you sure that’s a good idea?
She knows how I feel about Jessica. She also knows that Jessica is the one person who has the power to wreck me. Besides myself, that is.
Jack: You don’t need to worry about me. I’m good.
Josephine: I hope you are, Jack. And FYI, I will always worry about you.
Jack: I’ve gotta go. Talk soon.
Josephine: xx
The thing about that gossip headline? I did snort my way to career suicide. I also drank my way here. And now I have to deal with the fallout of that. Not to mention the fallout of the choice I made two days ago.
I walked away from the movie I was due to start filming next week.
I fired Belinda after she lost her shit at me.
My agent, Rodney, also lost his shit. He hasn’t quit on me. Yet.
My publicist…. Well, let’s just say I haven’t had a publicist for months now, and that doesn’t look like it’s changing any time soon.
I’m not sure I’ve got a career to go back to.
And for the first time in my life, that thought doesn’t send me into a cold sweat.
I make the first trip inside with half of Jessica’s bags and after depositing them in the bedroom she chose, I go in search of her.
She’s in the bathroom.
Bent over, inspecting the vanity cupboard.
I rest my shoulder against the doorjamb and cross my arms, letting my eyes roam her body.
She doesn’t move. “Are your eyes going to be on my ass this entire visit?”
“Currently, they’re not on your ass.” They’re getting lost in the tattoo running down her arm. The thin line of text she got inked while we were in Scotland years ago. The text that I also have in the exact same position on my body.
Straightening and turning to face me, her gaze meets mine as I bring it back to her face. I know from the look flashing in her eyes that she’s aware of where mine have been.
She shakes her head and says in a very Jessica-bossy way, “You need to stop whatever thoughts are running through your mind right now. I’m here to make sure you stay sober. That’s it.”
Keeping my shoulder right where it is, and my arms right where they are, I let my mouth curl up into the grin it wants. “You know I’ve never been good at stopping any of my thoughts. I don’t see that changing any time soon.”
“Jack,” she starts, a warning in her tone.
I cut her off. “If we’re done like you think we are, my thoughts won’t change a thing. So you do your thing and let me enjoy my thoughts. Fuck knows, they’re the only good thing in my head these days.”
Her eyes search mine for a long moment. “You need to find new thoughts, Jack. Ones that don’t involve me.”
With that, she moves past me and exits the bathroom.
I watch her walk down the short hallway and into her bedroom before making my way back outside to collect the rest of her bags. When I return to her bedroom with them, she’s standing in front of the window, surveying the property.
Without turning to me, she says, “How long have you had this place now?”
“Four years.”
“Do you get here much?”
“Two or three times a year. Not as much as I’d prefer.”
She turns and gives me those beautiful eyes that never fail to mesmerise me. “You have that power, you know? To choose how often you visit your own home.”
I nod slowly. She’s right. I do. And yet, I’ve chosen to live my life at full throttle, working month in, month out, barely resting between projects. “That’s something I’m figuring out. I never was quick at figuring out my own shit, was I?”
“That’s some bullshit if ever I’ve heard bullshit. The only thing you’re not quick at is pulling your head out of your ass.” She pauses and gives me another one of her trademark pointed looks that I’m convinced she keeps exclusively for me. “It’s time to get out of your own way.”
I smile. I’m un-fucking-able not to. She’s right, but even more, I like the way she never fails to call me out. “Yeah, gorgeous, it is.”