Jackie. He called me Jackie.

  A memory rose as his lips brushed mine: No one else will call you that like I do. No one ever will. You hear that name and you’ll know it’s comin’ from me.

  “No,” I said against him. “Don’t.” I pressed my hands against his chest to shove him away, and he reached up and clutched me to him.

  “You want this too,” he said and leaned forward again.

  I got ready to shove him again, maybe even take a swing at him when his lips touched mine. I started to snarl and then I heard, “Jackie, you in here?” as the bedroom door swung open.

  And everything got cold.

  John, the guy I wanted more than anyone in this world, stood in the room, his hand still on the doorknob. A pained look stuttered across his face, and I realized I was still standing with my hands against Tony’s chest, and Tony’s face was close to mine, so close that when I turned, his lips brushed my cheek.

  “No,” I said. “No, John. It’s not. It ain’t like this, I swear.” I jerked out of Tony’s grasp and tried to keep from running toward John. I paused at my first step because John took one back to compensate, holding his hand up as if to ward me off. I watched as his fingers shook.

  “Don’t,” he said, his voice quaking.

  “John—”

  “You knew,” Tony said from behind me. “You knew, John. You’ve seen the way he’s watched me. And he knew what was going to happen when he came up here. Don’t you let him tell you otherwise.”

  “No,” I said, taking another step, unable to stop from sounding as if I was begging. I trembled as John took another step back. “John, I didn’t. I just wanted to talk to him. I told you. I don’t care about him like that.”

  “And I told you what he wanted,” he said through gritted teeth. “I told you it wasn’t a good idea. You didn’t listen to me. I told you.”

  “It’s just you and me,” I said. My eyes were starting to burn. “I swear it. I swear it’s just you and me.” I took another step toward him.

  “Back off, Jack,” he warned me, eyes flashing. “Don’t. Not now.” The knuckles on his hand holding the doorknob were white from gripping too tightly.

  “Jackie,” I told him. “My name is Jackie. You know that.”

  “I thought I knew,” he said. “I thought I knew a lot.”

  And then he turned, slamming the door behind him as he fled.

  “No,” I whispered, unable to move, not believing what had just happened. It felt surreal, like a dream I couldn’t wake up from. Everything was hazy and my vision tunneled. All I could think was John, all I could want was John, all I could breathe was John, John, John. John Kemp didn’t ask for much. As a matter of fact, the only thing he asked for was me and I couldn’t even him give him that. I couldn’t even—

  “It’s better this way,” Tony said from behind me. I felt his hand drop on my shoulder. “You deserve better than him. I’ve always thought so.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He fluttered his fingers against the skin on my neck. “You don’t need him. Look at him, Jack. He’s trash. He’s always been trash. You don’t owe him anything.” He stood behind me, and I could feel the heat from his body.

  “He’s….”

  He brushed his lips against my ear, and I closed my eyes. “I’ll take care of you. You can stay here with me tonight, and I’ll show you how—”

  His words were cut off when I whirled around and smashed my fist into his jaw. Pain exploded down my hand and arm. Tony stumbled backward, his ass hitting the desk behind him, the poster sliding to the floor.

  My hands were clenched in fists at my side, and all I saw was red, all I felt was rage. “You touch me again and I’ll break your fuckin’ fingers,” I snarled at him. “And I swear on all I have, if you ever talk about John that way again, I’ll kill you.”

  He stared at me, eyes wide, holding a hand to his jaw.

  And that was where I left him.

  I flew out of his bedroom and tore down the stairs. So many people were in my way, and it seemed as if they were all shouting and laughing and screaming and I couldn’t get them to move, I couldn’t get them to move the fuck out of my way. I looked for that familiar head of black hair, that olive skin, but I couldn’t find him. I became more frantic, sure he couldn’t have left the house, sure he wouldn’t leave me here, but unable to find him anywhere.

  Only minutes later did I come across Betty. I had to keep from shaking her as I grabbed her arm. “Where is he?”

  “What?”

  “John,” I snapped at her. “Where’d John go?”

  She pulled herself from my hands. “He left,” she said, taking a step back. “Like, five minutes ago. Came down the stairs and left.”

  She said something else, but I didn’t hear her. I was already pushing my way through the crowd to the front door. I almost tripped as I reached the porch, reeling to avoid falling down the steps. It was dark and I couldn’t see John anywhere.

  I took off at a run, heading home.

  Mom and Dad were already in bed by the time I got there. It didn’t look like John had been there. His bike was still in the garage, next to mine, leaning together. Nothing had been moved out of our room. I felt a moment of relief when I saw his clothes still in the drawers next to mine.

  I tried to stay at the house in case he returned, but ten minutes later, I was frantic again. I left a note on the bed (IF YOU COME BACK, STAY HERE! I AM TRYING TO FIND YOU) before heading back down the stairs, grabbing my bike, and peddling off into the dark.

  He wasn’t at the soda fountain, but I didn’t think he would be.

  He wasn’t at the school, hiding under the bleachers, waiting for me to see him.

  He hadn’t gone back to the party, already starting to disperse.

  He wasn’t at the shack where he used to live, though it was nothing more than a rusted-out hovel now.

  He was not at his father’s bare grave. He never went there.

  He wasn’t anywhere. He wasn’t anywhere at all.

  As I rode frantically in the night trying to think of anywhere he could have possibly gone, I wondered if I would ever see him again. I wondered if he was on some highway already, thumb outstretched, waiting for someone to stop and pick him up, carry him off to places unknown. He would be taken from me to someplace far away and I would never see him again.

  Tears blurred my vision, and I wanted to chide myself for being eighteen years old and crying as I looked everywhere for a boy who wanted nothing to do with me. He left me. He left me when I needed him. It was his fault. He was the bastard. He was the asshole. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do a goddamn thing except love him.

  But even I knew those were all lies. What had happened with Tony wasn’t on him. It was on me. And I hadn’t listened. I’d thrown it back in his face.

  I ended up in the one place I didn’t think he’d be—by the lake. It had been our plan to come here after the party so I figured it’d be the last place he’d go. And he wasn’t here. I wasn’t disappointed in that regard, even if a small part of me had hoped.

  I sat on the shore where I’d kissed him for the first time, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, wondering just how far away John already was from our little town and if I’d ever see him again.

  I didn’t want anyone else. I didn’t need anyone else.

  The logical part of me, that little nagging voice, told me that John had no right to keep me to himself like that, that he was a right bastard for even saying so. It’s not fair, it said. You can’t expect to be kept hidden away for the rest of your life just because he doesn’t want to share you.

  But I knew if that was what he wanted, I’d do it. I’d do anything to stay by his side.

  My cheeks were wet, and I laid my forehead against my knees, wrapping my arms against my legs, trying to think about how to find him, how I could get him back. I thought about riding around town again until I found him. I gave myself a few minutes to pull myself together, but I couldn’t seem to stop the shakes.

  And then he sat down next to me. Hadn’t even heard him walk up. He left a bit of space between us as he sat Indian-style and picked at blades of grass.

  I couldn’t find a way to speak, my throat was too constricted. I thought he might be a hallucination, something my John-starved mind conjured up just to keep my sanity. But then I reached out and poked him on the arm. He arched an eyebrow at me, a look so like him that it set me off all over again. I bowed my head against my knees and cried.

  A second later I felt him wrap his arm around my shoulders, and he pulled me close to him. Sure that this was his way of saying good-bye, I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face in the hollow of his throat. I blubbered nonsense that was meant to be an apology, but that was more like me begging him to never leave me. He murmured little noises while tugging on my hair and waited until it was all out of me and I was hiccupping and sniffling against his neck.

  “Thought you were gone,” I whispered finally. “Couldn’t find you. Thought you—” And then my breath caught in my throat and I had to stop before I started crying again.

  He sighed. “I wouldn’t leave you. I can’t. Not even if I wanted to.”

  “You don’t want to?” I asked, barely able to hope.

  His answer was long in coming. “No, Jackie. Don’t want to.”

  I kissed his neck. “I was pushing him away, John. I swear it. I should have listened to you, but I was going to push him away. He ain’t what I want.”

  He sounded compassionless. “I don’t know if you know what you want.”

  I pulled away from him, suddenly frantic. I grabbed his hands and pressed them over my heart. “I know! I promise I do! You ain’t gotta worry about that, okay? I promise you. I don’t want anythin’ else. Just you and me, okay? I don’t need nobody else, and I won’t talk to anyone ever again. I promise, John. Okay? Please just say that’s okay.”

  He carefully withdrew his hands from me, and in that moment, in that cold, terrifying moment, I felt rejection like a slap across the face. I was sure he didn’t believe me and I was frozen on my knees in front of him, scared to reach out, sure I’d only push him farther away.

  John looked down at his hands in his lap and that minute it took for him to speak was the longest of my life. “I think I’ve made a mistake,” he said quietly, and my heart began to shatter.

  “John—”

  He held up a hand, cutting me off. “Now hold on, Jackie. I’ve got something to say, and if you still want to say anythin’ to me when I’m done, you go right ahead. Okay?”

  I nodded and another tear slipped down my cheek. He must have seen it because he reached up and used his thumb to brush it away. I couldn’t stop from leaning into his touch, trying to get as much of it as I could in case I’d never get it again. I kissed his palm, and I heard him grunt as if in pain, his eyes a little brighter. He dropped his hand away, and I tried not to whimper at the loss. He looked down at his lap again.

  “I’ve only ever wanted to do right by you,” he said. “I’ve only ever wanted to keep you safe and make you happy.”

  “You have! You always—”

  “Jack, hush.”

  I hushed.

  “But I had no right,” he continued, “to tell you for so long that it’d just be you and me. It wasn’t fair to you, Jackie. You and me, we ain’t alike that way. You need others in your life. You need to grow and change and become whatever you want to be. And I… I just need you. So I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I let you down and I’m sorry. If you need to… if you want…. Tony… or anyone else, well. I won’t stop you. I may not like it. In fact, I’ll probably hate it, but I ain’t ever gonna stop you. I ain’t gonna leave you. I can’t. I don’t think I’d survive without you. You’re my Jackie. Without you, there ain’t no me.”

  By the end of what had to be the longest speech I’d ever heard him give, his voice was low and rough and I could see him clenching his fists in his lap. I’d heard and catalogued every single word he said and it changed nothing for me. I understood him, yes, but it wasn’t what I wanted. It wasn’t what I needed from him.

  “Don’t want anyone else,” I told him, trying to keep myself from shouting, angry that he could ever think such a thing.

  “It killed me a bit, Jackie,” he choked out, his voice breaking on my name. He gripped his fists tighter. “Openin’ that door, it killed me a bit seeing him against you. I didn’t know who I wanted to hurt more: him or you. That’s why I left like I did. If I stayed, I would have hurt you, and I couldn’t do that. I won’t be like my daddy.”

  I struggled to speak. “You ain’t like him.”

  He shook his head. “More than I thought I could be. I’m still so angry.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said in a small voice.

  “Not at you, Jackie. Not really. More at myself. I don’t know if I should’ve pushed more or less. It’s my fault. I should’ve—”

  “Oh, fuck off, you bastard,” I snapped at him, unable to keep my anger in check any longer. His eyes narrowed as he finally looked up at me, seeing me for the first time since he found me. “If you’re gonna be pissed off, you best be pissed at me! I did this, John. Not you. Not anyone else. You told me what he wanted and I didn’t believe you. All I remember is seeing you with that damn bitch Betty, and I—”

  He looked startled. “Hey, now. It wasn’t like that. I don’t even care about—”

  “Then why were her hands all over you?” I growled at him, leaning forward, my hands on his knees. “She looked awfully comfortable touchin’ you.”

  “At least I didn’t kiss her!” he cried at me.

  “I didn’t fuckin’ kiss him!” I shouted back. “He kissed me and I was gettin’ ready to shove him away!”

  “Really? Looked like to me you were gettin’ pretty cozy behind my back, Jack Ford!” He grabbed the collar of my jacket, twisting his fists, holding me tight. I could see the fire flashing in his eyes. “That it? You fuckin’ around on me? Just couldn’t wait to get to the party so you could fuck your precious Tony, I bet. How’s he taste, Jackie? Does he taste like me? Does he give you what you want?”

  I couldn’t hold it back anymore. Before I knew it would happen, I tackled him down onto the ground, punching and kicking him with all my might, spitting out obscenities as I tried to make him bleed, make him hurt as much as I was hurting. He grunted as I got a solid hit on his stomach, and he grabbed for my hands, trying to pin my wrists together. He was bigger than me, always had been, but I was a scrappy little thing, twisting violently until I was free again, trying to find skin to gouge my fingers into.

  I don’t know how long it went on, just that it did for a while. And I can’t say for certain at what moment I stopped trying to hit him and instead tried to get my hands underneath his shirt, tried to touch more of his skin while he was pawing at the front of my jeans, unsnapping the buttons. We were both breathing heavily, our foreheads pressed together, slick with sweat. His gaze never left mine, and that first moment, that first time I ever felt his hands on me that way—when he gripped my length with his strong hands—was something I won’t ever forget. It wasn’t just because I had a man’s hand on my cock. It wasn’t even that this moment was coming after the biggest scare of my life.

  No, all that mattered was that John was the one straddling my thighs, his back bowed up as I found one of his nipples and twisted, his eyelids fluttering. It was John who used his thumbnail to scrape my cockhead, whether by design or by accident, I didn’t know, only that I felt like a bundle of live wires and any place he touched was like a shock.

  And when John gave in to his true nature and snarled, “I take it back. You don’t ever let anyone touch you again or I’ll kill you, I swear to God, Jackie, I swear to God,” I knew this was the way we’d be.

  Some wouldn’t understand it. Some wouldn’t agree with it. But if that was the way things needed to be so John and me could be John and me, there was no question what I’d choose.

  We didn’t have anything slick then, but it didn’t matter. Once his pants were around his ankles and mine were gone, we spit into his hand and he rubbed us both up and pressed himself against my ass and it burned. I cried out because it felt like I was going to split in half, and he faltered. He hesitated. He stopped until I hooked my ankles around his waist and pulled him toward me, and I cried out against his neck, biting his skin, fisting his hair. It was painful, and I felt like I was being torn apart, but underneath it all, underneath the waves that washed over the both of us, I could feel his heart beating against my chest, and we rose above it and the pain faded away. It dissipated until there was nothing left but him and me, and I could hear him whispering in my ear that he loved me, that he’d always loved me, ever since that first day. The moment he saw me, he knew I was always going to be his and that none of the rest would matter, because if I was by his side, he could handle everything else, no matter what was thrown at him.

  I came first, my orgasm taking me by surprise, spurting between us, coating our stomachs. He snapped his hips before crying out, and I was filled with a wet heat as he thrust again and again. He collapsed on top of me moments later, his breath hot and harsh in my ear, and he trembled, so much so that it felt like his skin was vibrating. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly, not wanting him to leave, not wanting this connection to be severed.

  His lips eventually found my neck, and he placed gentle kisses up the slope until he reached my jaw, my lips. His hands went to my face, rubbing against my cheeks, lightly touching my eyelids as if he were trying to memorize me, like he was seeing me for the first time, really seeing me. I looked up at him and his eyes were wide, but there was no fear. There was no doubt. There was a shy wonder. A smug amusement. Rapture. Radiance.

  And I had to tell him. He had to know.

  “No one else,” I whispered.

  He touched my cheek. His thumb grazed my nose.

  “There will never be anyone else, John. I promise you. There will only be you.” Because it was true. I knew it to be true, and damn the rest. Damn whatever else could come. It didn’t matter.