Willow // Taylor Swift

Jackson

I woke up today wishing Holly was in my arms. Making out with her on the couch last night hit home how little time we get alone. It's gotten harder and harder to leave her when I have to. I miss her when we're apart and I worry about her constantly.

All the fucking time. I've taken to texting her first thing in the morning. I hate that she takes the bus, so I begged her to let me know when she's leaving for work or errands and when she gets back. Her neighborhood is shitty so even when she is home, I worry. I've never been this focused on the wellbeing of another person in my entire life.

Today, a text isn't enough to keep me sane, so I call her.

"Morning," she says when she answers. I hear the sleep still in her voice.

"I'm sorry I woke you."

"You didn't."

"Clearly, I did, baby. I can tell by your yawns."

She sighs. "I was up a lot last night. Mom's cough was bad.

It had been bad when I was over, too. That was the whole reason we had stayed in, to help take care of her mom.

"When do you get off work?" I ask, planning to pick her up so she doesn't have to ride the bus home.

"Not working today. I called in sick because there's no way after the night I had I can focus for eight hours. My boss understands my situation with mom."

I nod, formulating a plan. I work remotely anyway. I can work remotely at her house. I start packing up my laptop and some notes as I talk with her.

"I'll grab us some coffee and donuts then I'm heading over."

"What do you mean?"

I smile at the hopeful sound in her voice.

"I mean, I can get my work done over there. You can rest and I can help your mom if she needs it."

There's silence on the other end of the call that stops my hand halfway to my messenger bag.

"Are you...not wanting me to come?" This wasn't a possibility when I started planning.

"Of course I do." Her voice whispers. "I can't believe you want to do this."

"I'll never not want to spend time with you when I can." I resume my packing and head for the door of the shop, hop in my truck and start it up, all while still talking to Holly.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes." I tell her as we wrap up. "See you soon."

"Okay."

***

Holly

I wake from the best nap ever, stretching my arms above my head. The minute I finished the fresh donut that Jackson brought me, he ordered me back to bed. I must have dozed off a few times while chewing. He was so cute about it, too. He marched me into my room, threw back the covers and tucked me in before kissing my forehead.

"Sleep," he'd said. "I'll make sure your mom has anything she needs." I'd nodded off almost the second he closed my door, secure in the fact that he was taking care of us.

Now I feel alive again and I can't wait to throw my arms around him.

I pad down the hallway in my socks and sweats but when I get to the front room, no Jackson. My heart sinks. Did he leave already? I check the clock and see the time is still early afternoon, but maybe he had something to take care of. I check the table and counters for a note, but nothing. Then I hear some cursing from outside that's distinctly Jackson.

"Fucking hell." The unmistakable grumble sets my feet in motion to the back door, wondering what he's doing out back. There isn't much out there except for the old garage shed. I never go out there. It's my dad's domain.

"Jackson?" I call to him as I open the door and slip my feet into the Crocks mom keeps there, not that she ever ventures outside. She used to like gardening but hasn't attempted it in years.

"Why the heck didn't you tell me you had a car?" His voice gets louder as he steps out of the garage and over toward me. "Your mom mentioned how bad she felt that the Ford stopped running and you'd had to take the bus. Casually. Like I knew there'd been an option other than the bus for you all this time. I thought I'd come out here to find a rusted-out truck, but this car isn't even in that bad of shape."

He was clearly frustrated but I didn't understand this energy from him. What's the big deal if I take the bus? I don't have to worry about car insurance or gas. It can be a pain but I'm also not dealing with oil changes. My dad never bothered with upkeep on mom's car because he never drove it, why should he care, as he'd put it when I mentioned it once or twice. I couldn't afford to take it in for servicing, which pissed me off even more because dad had the tools and the knowhow. He could have done it himself for practically nothing. I tried pointing that out when I was nineteen and starting training for my job, thinking he'd help his daughter out to get to classes. That was the last time I ever asked for his help, with anything.

He'd sneered at me. He'd gotten in my face and said things I don't want to think about. Things about all I was good for, all any woman was good for. That schooling and a career would be a joke. I realized he'd never see me as anything but a weight in his life, a burden, unless I kept to myself and stayed out of his way. Unless I took care of the mundane tasks he couldn't be bothered to deal with.

I'm sorry to say that's what I did. I became invisible so he'd leave me alone. I swallowed the stress and exhaustion of taking over the bills and day to day life for mom and me. And I took a deep breath every time he went on the road. It wasn't often enough.

Jackson was staring at me, hands on hips with a defeated look in his eyes.

"Do you know why it won't run?" he asked.

I swallowed, knowing it's not going to help his mood when I tell him.

"The oil never got changed. Motors don't like it after five or so years."

"It needs a fucking oil change?"

I called it.

"Yes. Why are you so upset?" I don't like this conversation. I don't like feeling this way. I take a step back to retreat into the house but that causes Jackson to deflate right before my eyes. The pent-up frustration leaks out like air from a tire.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be taking this out on you. But dang it, Holly, I worry about you. All the time. Taking the bus and being so vulnerable in this neighborhood. Then I find out you actually have transportation available that would get you to work and back and I wouldn't be stressed every day about it..." His voice trails off as he runs a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry."

"You said that." I feel myself relax at his words.

"I am sorry. I guess I could have given you a ride to and from work. Or let you borrow my truck or something." He clenches his jaw. "I'm an idiot."

I step down the back steps toward him, smiling at his self-deprecation.

"You're my idiot." I wrap my arms around him. "I can't afford a mechanic. I can barely afford the rent and upkeep on the house. We need a place to live more than I need a car to drive."

"I'll take care of it. It can't be that expensive to change the oil."

I shake my head. "It's not if you do it yourself, or if you get it taken care of regularly before the motor rebels and refuses to run with 5-year-old motor oil. But I don't have those skills and it's been longer than 5 years. It will be much more costly now."

He kisses my cheek. "Neither of us have the skills, but both of us know a few guys who do." He wraps his arms around me, swinging me back and forth before setting me back down and kissing my lips.

"I'll give my dad a call. Between him and Grinder, I'll bet we can get this thing running.

"Are you real?" I shake my head at this man.

He pulls closer to me, pressing his entire body up against mine.

"Don't I feel real?" His voice goes deep, filled with longing and need.

I nod, not able to form words when his lips run along my jaw then decend the length of my neck before settling at the crook of my shoulder.

"The car has a real nice back seat," he whispers. I shiver at the images fluttering through my head. He speaks again before I can say anything.

"I'll make some calls." He gives me a blistering kiss, slaps my ass then hops up the steps back into the house.

Over the next few hours, I watch in awe as he calls first his dad, then Grinder, to come up with a plan for the car. He watches some videos on YouTube, taking copious notes. He googles more and reads PDFs online about effects of old oil on motors. Grinder comes by later with some supplies since he didn't have any clients booked for the afternoon. The two of them get to work and don't stop until I call them in for a late dinner hours later.

It takes another couple of long afternoon sessions, one on his own and one with his dad, before the car starts up again. I've never been taken care of the way Jackson takes care of me. He does what he says he's going to do. And he does it for me.

"Your keys to freedom, my lady." Jackson reaches out open palmed, keys to the car resting in his hand. I grab them then launch myself at him.

"I can't believe you did it!"

"Hey, a little vote of confidence please. It's just basic mechanics. Fords are not Ferrari's."

"Not that," I say leaning back to look him in the eye. "I'm not talking about figuring out how to fix the car. I'm talking about actually doing it."

His brow furrows. "Of course, I actually did it."

And that's my favorite thing about Jackson. He is who he says he is. He does what he says he'll do. He doesn't make excuses. He doesn't do things expecting anything in return. However, I plan to return this favor in a big way. I lean closer, pressing my lips to his ear.

"I believe there's a backseat waiting for us." I whisper. The way he wraps his arm around my waist possessively does something to me. To my heart rate and my breathing. I take him by the hand and lead him back to the garage where he opens the door to the backseat after shutting us inside and we slide in one after the other surrounded by dark shadows.

Jackson pulls the door shut behind him. We're shut off from the rest of the world. My mom won't come back out here looking for us. No one else comes back here. We're utterly alone on a bench seat in the back of my mom's car, now mine to use as I please thanks to this man at my side.

"I'm not having sex with you for the first time in the backseat of a car," Jackson says as his hands cup my cheeks and his lips taste my skin. "But we can do some exploring. If you want."

"I want," I say, meaning more than just his hands all over me. I do understand what he means, though. What we are to each other is a big deal. It's not just a physical pull. It's everything. And he wants everything we do to mean as much.

"I can make you feel good." His words vibrate through me. "If you want."

"You already do."

"Lay back," he orders. I obey. Then Jackson lets his fingers explore every inch of me. He lets my fingers do the same. We spend minutes, maybe hours, learning each other's wants. When we're finished, sweaty and sated if still a little needy, he holds me closely, quietly.

"I'm going to find a way, baby."

I nod, already knowing what he means. A way to stay together. It's what I want, too. I try not to hope. I know his life isn't here, at least not yet. But I think he wants it to be.

Because this was written out of order and waaaaay after I wrote the other chapters, you might notice some plot inconsistencies. IF YOU DO please let me know! I tried going back and checking for previous content but my eyes likely missed something.

Thank you so much for reading and your patience while I work out the plot holes and foggy moments. 🥰.

I thought a softer Taylor Swift song would be a good fit. I've been waiting to use Willow and that song feels like this chapter to me.

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

See you soon!!