“There was a time I used to hope he would return and we could just go back to the way things were, but I realized it was never going to happen. I blamed myself for a long time. I thought I did something wrong to make him leave. If I was good enough, or if I didn’t cry all the time, maybe he wouldn’t have left.” Jackson’s calloused thumb catches one of my tears. I’ve never told anyone other than Ashton these things.

“I’m so sorry, Catherine. But you didn’t do anything wrong. He f**king decided how to handle it, not you.”

“I know I didn’t do anything wrong now, but he really f**ked me up for a while.” And then it hits me out of nowhere. The reality comes crashing down around me, smothering me. “He’s really dead. He’s never coming back. I’ll never get any answers. Do you know what kind of crushing guilt I’ll carry forever because I never tried? I could’ve tried as an adult. Searched for him. But I didn’t. I gave up.”

Jackson’s arms encase me and he pulls me close as I start to cry in earnest. Tears fall like rain and the last week of emotions pummels me. My dad is gone. I’ll never get a chance to reconcile with him. There will never be a chance of him being a part of my life or my future children’s lives. He’ll never know who I am and I’ll never be able to let this go. I’ll have to carry around all the hurt and pain of an unloved child because he was too selfish to try. He broke me and I’ll never be fixed because he’s dead.

Jackson simply rubs my back and lets me unload years’ worth of unshed tears. After a few minutes, I lean back with red-rimmed eyes and he places a small kiss on my lips. He hasn’t said a word, but there’s pain in his eyes as he closes them. “I’m sorry you’re hurting, baby. I know more about guilt than you can ever imagine.”

I lean on his chest and place my hand on his cheek, gently stroking his face and enjoying the way his stubble feels against my skin. “What do you mean?” I ask timidly.

“I’ll talk about it at some point, but not today. You’ve had a lot to process,” he says as he rolls onto his back, taking me with him. I curl up on his chest.

“Will you tell me about your parents, then?”

He lets out a half laugh. “I’m afraid my story isn’t very interesting. My parents are pretty boring and still happily married. My dad is former Air Force, so he was gone a lot. Even when I was a kid he always emphasized that hard work is essential to any man and I should get used to it.

“My mom is your typical military wife. She was mother, father, friend, disciplinarian, and everything in between. She cooked, cleaned, made sure my sister, Reagan, and I didn’t kill each other, and then she’d replace the alternator in the car when it went out.”

“She sounds like an amazing woman,” I say, looking at him as his grin spreads across his face. I love watching those eyes crinkle when he’s truly happy.

“She really is. She could kick my ass and then turn around and bake cookies for my class. I feared my dad—but Mom, she was a force of nature. You know how mothers always say, ‘Just wait till your father comes home?’”

“Yeah. Ashton’s mother invented that phrase. We heard it a lot. We were kind of a handful. I’m sure you find that hard to believe.” My brow rises, waiting for him to challenge me.

“Not you!” He laughs and tickles my sides. I squirm before he continues on. “Anyway, my mom never said that. It was my dad who probably could’ve said it. She still scares the shit out of me.”

“They sound great.” I’m happy that he has such a wonderful family. No child should grow up without love. It’s obvious his parents have done an amazing job with him.

“Don’t get me wrong, there were times when my dad being away was rough. He missed a lot of birthdays, Christmases, and other holidays. My mom had to make sure Reagan and I didn’t notice or at least that it didn’t f**k up the whole day if we did. That’s the life of a military kid, though. Dad was a pilot, so even when he was home he was usually doing work-ups.”

“Wait. Your name is Jackson and your sister’s name is Reagan?”

“Yes, why?” He looks confused at where I’m going with this.

“I’m noticing the dead president theme going on with your family, that’s all. Am I missing something?”

“Out of everything we just talked about, that’s what you want to ask me about?”

“If my name was Thelma and I had a sister Louise, you would think it was funny too!” I laugh and shrink back.

He grabs me and flips me on my back, hovering over me. I love the playfulness dancing in his eyes. “Are you making fun of me?”

Batting my eyelashes and tilting my head to the side, trying to feign innocence, I smile. “Who, me? Never.”

With a warm smile playing across his lips, he leans down and gives me a long closed-mouthed kiss as he grips my leg and wraps it around his waist. Enjoying where this seems to be heading, I push up into the kiss. Jackson rolls me so I’m on top of him. The alcohol fog has completely dissipated as the kiss deepens. Our tongues volley back and forth—I couldn’t care less about my head throbbing or anything else. Right when things are about to get better, he stops and slaps my ass, hard.

“Owww!” I laugh, rubbing my butt, and he rolls off to the side, matching my laughter. “Jerkface.”

“That’ll teach you to be such a smartass. Now, what else did you want to know about my nonpolitical parents?”

I crawl back to my former position and nestle in. “How did your dad feel about you going into the Navy?”

“He didn’t care, honestly. He thought I was f**king insane for wanting to be a SEAL. When you know the life and what we really go through, it’s different. There is no idolizing.” He runs his hand through his hair and pulls me close.

“Did you always want to be a SEAL?” I wonder.

“There was never a doubt. Dad was adamant I finish college first. So I went to school and double majored in finance and criminal justice. Then I enlisted as an officer, but I knew I’d be a SEAL. If you’re going to join, might as well be the best. And that’s what we are—the best.” He smirks and juts out his chin, showing his arrogance a little.

I can see why he’s proud. He’s accomplished something many have failed at.

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t ya?”

“Well, what’s there not to be sure of?” He laughs and kisses the top of my head.

“Your humility needs some help. Your head gets any bigger, I’ll need to get a larger apartment so you can fit.” I laugh and he chuckles.

“I speak the truth.”

I shake my head and lay down against his chest.

We both grow quiet, comfortable with the silence between us. Nuzzling into him, I close my eyes as my head throbs from the night of drinking I’m still paying for. The onslaught of emotions probably hasn’t helped either. My mind drifts, thinking of a young Jackson and how it must have been difficult knowing his dad was away but wanted to be home.

“Hey,” he says quietly. I must’ve fallen asleep. “You awake?”

“Yeah, I’m up. Sorry. Between the hangover and crying I guess I was beat.”