Page 60 of Mountain Freedom
“Why not?”
“Because we’re adults now. Adults don’t splash in mud puddles and dance in the rain.”
“Who says?” That devilish look grew, and I knew what was coming.
But I didn’t back away.
“It would be irresponsible,” I said, pointing my finger at him and mimicking my mother’s tone, even though I couldn’t keep a straight face.
“Exactly. Didn’t you just say something about remembering what it felt like to be free? This is freedom, Allison.” And with the same mischievous look on his face I remembered so well from our childhoods, Jackson grabbed my hand and took off down the porch stairs, pulling me behind him.
I shrieked, ducking when the raindrops hit the top of my head. But then something inside me shifted. I lifted my head to the sky and invited the rain to hit my face. Jackson let go of my hand—breaking my heart a bit in the process—and I stuck out my arms and slowly turned in a circle, just like I had as a kid. The rain pelted me so hard I couldn’t open my eyes, but it didn’t matter. It felt like a gift, a baptism of freedom, as the water washed away what felt like years of stress and striving.
Here, none of it mattered. Here on the mountain, I was loved just for who I was.
I finally lowered my head and opened my eyes. I saw Jackson standing in the pouring rain, watching me. The look on his face was something I wanted to hold in my heart forever.
Then he was moving toward me, and before I knew what had happened, I was in his arms again. He pulled me close and held me tight as he dipped his lips to mine. They were cold from the rain, yet somehow perfect, and our mouths fit together as if we had been made for each other. My hands went to his face as I sank into the feeling of his lips on mine.
And suddenly I knew it was always meant to be this way. That no matter what we had said, what pact we had made, or any of the other reasons Jackson would come up with, it didn’t matter. Our souls had been connected our entire lives, and here, in this moment, the world finally made sense. I was always being led back to him, and he was always being led back to me. Our bodies melded together in this one, perfect moment of clarity, this moment of knowing who I was and who he was and who we could be together.
Until he broke away.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I don’t know what I was thinking. You just… Standing there… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”
“It’s okay,” I said, moving toward him again—until I realized he genuinely regretted it. What had been a perfect moment of clarity for me was a moment of regret for him. So I stopped.
“No, it’s not okay,” he said. “We had an understanding, and I broke that. I’m sorry, Allison.”
“Jackson,” I said, looking up at him, wishing I could get the connection we had just shared back somehow. “I’m not upset at you. Not at all.”
But it was clear by the look on his face that he was angry with himself. It was that look that made me step back yet again, away from the warmth of his embrace. I knew this was real, that it wasmore than just attraction. It was solid and true and something I’d never felt for anyone else. But something stopped me from telling him, because the last thing I wanted was for him to push me away. He had made it clear he still didn’t trust himself. I knew if he thought he might hurt me, he would just stop coming around.
It felt like part of me would die if I lost him again.
“Friends practice kissing each other sometimes, right?” I teased, attempting to lighten the mood. “At least that’s what Tommy Reynolds tried to tell me in third grade.”
His face changed to surprise, which was exactly my intention. “He did not.”
“He did,” I said, laughing. “I told him no, though.”
Jackson grinned. “Good. You were too good for him.” A look of pain quickly flashed across his face, so quickly I almost missed it.
I knew what he was thinking. He thought I was too good for him, too. And my heart ached to tell him all the things he needed to know—that he wasn’t his dad. That he was his own man, with a good heart. That he was strong, brave, and selfless. That, truth be told, he was probably too good forme.
But I knew if I said those things now, he wouldn’t believe me. Even if he wanted to.
So I just kept things light.
“You’re soaked,” I said, laughing again.
“You are too,” he said, grinning back at me.
“Come on in and get dry.” I grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the house. “I’m afraid I don’t have any clothes that will fit you, but you can borrow my robe if you want to throw your stuff in the dryer.”
But he held back, stopping me. “I think I better go home,” he said. “I’ll just make sure you get inside safely. Then I’ll head out.”
“You don’t have to.”
