“Imaginary, huh? And tell me, baby, what’s this boy’s name?” He leans close and places his hand on the back of my head, pulling me against his chest. I lean into him and take a deep breath. Imaginary Jackson even smells the same.

“He’s not really a boy. He’s all man, if you know what I mean.” I slur the words and giggle.

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Ohhh, you know, six or eight. I can’t remember.” I close my eyes and rest against his strong, hard chest. My mind is a beautiful place right now. “How did you know where I was?”

Ashton speaks first. “I think you’re cut off. Jackson is really here and you are gonna hate yourself tomorrow.”

Imaginary Jackson pulls us to the couch, where I sink into him further.

“Nuh uh,” I retort, drifting to sleep.

Next thing I know, strong hands are cupping my cheeks and lifting my face. My lashes flutter open and I’m staring into Jackson’s—or imaginary Jackson’s—gorgeous turquoise eyes. Damn he’s hot. I so want to break off a piece of that again. He continues to gaze with a fierce intensity—it almost sobers me. Fuck! He’s here!

And I’m drunk—really drunk.

His deep voice breaks through my alcohol fog. “Hi there.”

“Hi,” I say breathlessly.

“Hi! I’m going to bed in case anyone was curious,” Ashton yells, and we all start laughing. “Jackson, it was a pleasure meeting you. Hopefully I’ll see you in the morning.” She winks at me and starts to leave, giving me a thumbs up as she heads to her room.

Jackson scoops me into his arms effortlessly and places a quick kiss on my forehead. “Where’s your room?”

I point at what I hope is my door. “Ummm that one. I think.” He laughs as he opens the door to the bathroom. Oops.

The next door he opens is my bedroom. “Lucky door number two.” He walks over and gently places me on my bed. Crap! Jackson is here—in my room—and I’m not even sober to enjoy it. “I’m going to stay tonight. I’ll be a gentleman,” he whispers in my ear.

“Okay. But feel free not to be.” I laugh since I’ve become a giggly, drunken fool.

I watch as he undresses. At least I’m going to enjoy this! His gaze as he pulls his pants off stops my urge to laugh. Nope. Nothing funny about that.

“I like your room,” Jackson says, looking around.

“I like you naked,” I say, then slap my hand over my mouth.

“Are you sure? Maybe you like imaginary Jackson better.” His brow lifts and his dimple appears.

“I like all the Jacksons.” I fall against my pillow as the room spins. Ugh! Please don’t let me get sick.

“I’m glad. I was starting to wonder.” I feel the bed shift as he slides his arm under my head. “Sleep well.”

“Good night.” I nuzzle into his neck as I pass out, suddenly not feeling so sick after all.

I crack my eye open and slam it shut again—too bright! My head is pounding and my mouth feels like I have a million cotton balls in it. I roll over and my hand slaps on a warm, shirtless, rock-hard chest. What?

“That wasn’t very nice,” a deep, husky voice croaks.

I slowly open my eye and see Jackson’s wide grin. Ummm, why is he in my bed and when the hell did he get here? Well, I’m fully clothed so that’s good … I think. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Water. I need water. I look over at my nightstand and see two aspirins and a water bottle. I quickly sit up, groaning as I grab the side of my head.

“Not feeling so hot this morning, huh?” Jackson yells, or at least that’s what it sounds like in my head.

“Shhh. Too loud,” I whisper and reach for the medicine.

He leans over, swipes the pills, and places them in my hand. “I was whispering, babe. Here. Drink.”

Hopefully this medicine is fast acting, otherwise I’m going to be worthless all day. I lie back down and try to recall what happened last night. We drank. I remember that much. I remember going to the bathroom and eyes … I remember his eyes. I roll over and face Jackson, hoping he can fill me in. “So …”

“What? You like imaginary Jackson more?”

“I …” The puzzle pieces start to click. Imaginary Jackson! Please someone kill me. That would be a lot easier than the embarrassment I’m dealing with now. “Look, I drank a lot. Nothing I said—or did—can be held against me.”

He rolls and faces me, pushing the hair back off my face. “You were adorable and nothing happened last night—well, at least not what I was hoping for.” Jackson’s grin is wide as his eyes shift toward my br**sts.

“Hey!” I quickly cut him off. “I didn’t mean that you did anything. I mean I vaguely remember a few things.” My hand makes its way to his chest and I trace the tribal sun. It’s so beautiful. The tattoo on my hip is more of a celestial sun, but his is huge and takes up his entire pec, completely covering where his heart is. My fingers roam the rays and he sighs, placing his hand over mine. “We both have suns,” I observe.

“The sun is constant,” Jackson states.

“I got mine on my eighteenth birthday.”

“What made you get the sun?” he asks.

I could very easily give him a girly answer like I usually do, but I want to share this with him. The sun has great significance to me, even if it also brings a fair amount of darkness. “When I was a child, my father used to sing ‘You are My Sunshine’ to me when I was sad. I always remembered that about him. I still sing it when I need to calm myself.” I sigh and look up with sad eyes. “It’s probably the only good memory I have of him, or at least one I remember. He would either sing it or whistle it if he was upset with my mother. I carried on that tradition, which basically means it’s my theme song.”

“Tell me about him,” Jackson says quietly and holds my hand steady against his chest.

“I don’t really have much to say.” I take a deep breath. “He left when I was nine, on my birthday, and I never saw him again. He walked away while I cried on the floor. Never looked back.”

“I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard.”

“Well, yeah. I was a kid. I begged him, literally hanging onto his leg.” I pause, remembering how desperate I was for him not to walk away. Unfortunately, that was only the beginning of my heartache. “I would write letters and beg my mom to take me to him. But she didn’t know where he was. He disappeared. It was awful because before he left, he adored me. He told me every day how much he loved me and how special I was. Then he just …” Tears start to leak as I recall my childhood. “I cried a lot in the beginning. Then I would tell people he died because it was easier than explaining he didn’t love me.”

He smiles sadly and presses his lips to my forehead, giving me the strength to say more. I haven’t even touched the surface of the years of damage his absence caused.

“I never understood it. How do you love someone so much and then walk away?” I take a shaky breath and continue, “I wanted him to want me. Or explain why he deserted me. If he didn’t love my mother anymore, I could handle that, but to not love me anymore—I still don’t fully comprehend it. I don’t have kids, so I don’t understand a parent’s love. But I’ve seen my friends and there is nothing they wouldn’t do for their children. I thought a parent’s love was supposed to be unwavering.” I hate thinking about this but the floodgates have opened and they don’t want to close. Jackson lies here, staring at me with compassion as he holds my hand and gives it a small squeeze. I sigh before going on.