by Drea Stein
Jackson shoved his hands in the pocket of the coat he had put on against the autumn chill. “It’s too late there. I screwed it up. She thinks I’m…”
“An emotionless hard-hearted bastard in love with somebody else.”
“Something like that.”
“But she’s pretty miserable too; I have that on good authority.”
“She’s just mad,” Jackson said, shaking his head. He couldn’t let himself get his hopes up.
“I like Lynn, I really do. And not just because she’s friends with my bride to be. Did I ever tell you about the time she saved my life?” Chase laughed at the expression on Jackson’s face. “Ok, so it was just a paper cut. But seriously, I think when two people are in, how shall we say, in sync with one other, then just about anything can be fixed.”
Jackson sighed. He knew he wasn’t going to escape the brotherly advice, solicited or not. “What’s your idea, big brother?”
Chase smiled. “It’s time for the grand gesture, my friend. Think big, think wow, and then prepare tell the truth and grovel. That should do it.”
“What should I get, a skywriter to say I’m sorry? What do you mean by a grand gesture?”
Chase shrugged. “How the hell should I know what Lynn wants? She’s not my girl. Though it seems like money isn’t the way to her heart. Apparently, she was unmoved by your donation.”
Jackson sighed. “It was supposed to be anonymous. I didn’t want her to think I was trying to buy her forgiveness.”
“Classic guy move, thinking you can throw money at a problem. I think this time you need to figure it out. She’s your girl after all. For Phoebe it would probably be a new set of drawing pencils or fancy new sheets. Seriously. But you have to figure out what’s going to melt Lynn’s heart, if you know what I mean, long enough for you to get down on your knees and beg. Got it?”
Jackson nodded. He thought he might just be finally getting it.
Chapter 52
“Next.” Lynn barely looked up as the next patient entered the small exam area. If she thought that she had managed to put Jackson out of mind, she realized she had been mistaken.
“You.” Lynn couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.
“Doctor.” Lindsay Moran stepped into the exam room and hesitated, as if waiting for Lynn to say something.
The nurse, as if she could feel the tension, looked at Lynn. Lynn swallowed, then waved her away, taking the proffered chart. She was a professional and she was pretty sure that anything Lindsay had couldn’t fluster her. She just needed to remain detached, above it all, and she would do just fine.
Lindsay smiled shyly as the nurse left them alone and took a seat on the examining table, as if she had all the time in the world.
“Do your parents know you’re here?” Lynn asked.
“I’m eighteen so it doesn’t matter, and this isn’t because I’m sick. We’re leaving today and this seemed like the fastest way to get to you. I tracked down Chase and he told me where to find you.”
“Ok,” Lynn said, not sure where this was going.
“You should give Jackson another chance, you know,” Lindsay said, her legs swinging off the side of the table, her eyes, big, blue, round.
“Excuse me?”
“Look, I saw the way you looked at my mom. And the way you looked at Jax. I don’t know what you heard about my sister’s death, but whatever it was it wasn’t Jackson’s fault. I told my mom that, and she believes me I think, but I didn’t want you holding what you thought you knew against him.”
Lynn gave a bitter laugh. “What, that he’s in love with a dead woman?” As soon it was out of her mouth, Lynn regretted it. Her hand flew to her mouth, covering it, and she wished with all her heart she could take her words back. “Sorry.”
Libby shrugged with a world weariness that Lynn knew could only have come from having suffered a tragedy.
“See, that’s what you think you know.”
“So what don’t I know?”
“Well, everyone thinks she was St. Ashley. But she wasn’t.”
“I have a brother and he’s no saint either, but he’s still a good person,” Lynn said carefully.
Lindsay shook her head. “No. Ash had some serious issues. Deep down issues. Poor Jackson got suckered right into it. He adored her, worshipped her, and she treated him like a faithful puppy and he put up with it. But he was never happy. Ashley,” and here her voice dropped just a bit, “liked drama. She liked to keep Jackson on his toes. It fed her ego, her self-confidence to know that he was always a bit more in love with her than she was with him.”
“Did you think this was going to make me feel better?” Lynn asked. She balled her hand into a fist, aware that it was trembling. She took a deep breath, trying to get control of her emotions.
“No. But perhaps you need to give Jackson a chance to explain,” Lindsay said.
Lynn closed her eyes, shook her head, wished she could make all of this go away. “I would like for him to, but he won’t. Just said I wouldn’t understand.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Jackson, Mr. Goody-two-shoes. He has a serious knight in shining armor complex.”
Lindsay said nothing more, just hopped off the exam table, the white paper crinkling as she did so. She landed neatly on her feet and looked down at Lynn.
“I think that Jackson needs to explain it himself. I knew of course. Can’t keep things from a nosy little sister, but he swore me to secrecy, told me it would be better this way. I believed him; only I didn’t realize how bad things would get for him.”
Lynn shook her head in bewilderment. She had no idea what Lindsay could possibly be talking about.
Lindsay started toward the opening in the curtain that separated them from the rest of the clinic.
“You know, he’s happy with you. I could see it, hear it.”
“Hear it?”
“Yeah, he sends me emails, little presents sometimes. Nothing weird, don’t worry. But he was kind of like a big brother to me when he was with Ashley, and just because my mom went all crazy on him, he never stopped being there for me.”
“He talked about me?” Lynn said.
“Sort of. I mean, he hardly ever gave me any details about his personal life, but well, he did mention you, so I thought that was kind of, you know, significant. And I don’t know, there was just something in what he did say. You know, like he was happy.”
“Happy?” Lynn repeated.
“Yes. He’s happy with you. Trust me.” And with that she was gone.
Lynn sank slowly to the small rolling stool, needing a moment to calm and pull herself together as the clinic hummed around her.
Happy? Had she truly made Jackson happy? She remembered his smiles, his laughs, the way he teased her, looked out for her, his thoughtfulness, his loving hands. All so different from the stern, serious man she had accused of having ice in his heart and closing down the clinic. He was the man who had given the clinic a new lease on life, who fixed up the ball fields, who made an outrageous donation to something that was important to her.
But could being happy with someone compare to being crazy in love? Was happy a good enough substitute for passion? Lynn’s own heart, its breaking, told her the answer. She was crazy in love with Jackson and miserable over it.
Chapter 53
She drove up the driveway, the pit in her stomach growing larger. It was dark early now, and there was a soft glow of a few lamps on in the house, as it sat low slung to the ground. Beyond, she could see shimmering lights on the far bluffs across the expanse of the harbor. The moon sat large and fat in the sky, a harvest moon.
She pulled up in front and just sat in her car, allowing the warmth of the heater to caress her bones, trying to do anything that would postpone the inevitable. Sure, she had thought about calling the items a loss, but then she had told herself to grow a pair. If Jackson wasn’t planning on moving and if neither was she, then she was bound to run into him here and there. Better to be mature, to be
grownups about it.
So she had to will herself to get out of the car, pulling her barn coat more tightly around her. She had her scrubs on and the thin fabric caught in the wind and it cut right through her. There might still be leaves on the trees and a warm spot of sun in the afternoon, but fall was giving up the ghost, no doubt about it. Winter would be upon them soon.
Shivering, she started up the crushed gravel walkway to the wide redwood planked steps. Maybe he wouldn’t be here, she thought, then shook herself. She was not going to weenie out of this. And besides, what Lindsay Moran had said kept coming back to her.
Ringing the doorbell, she rocked on the ball of her heels, pulling on her ponytail. There was the sound of a click and then Jackson’s voice over the intercom. “Lynn?”
“Yes,” she said, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. Was he expecting someone else? Maybe he had moved on to another woman he couldn’t commit to. The thought stabbed at her heart and she waited for another moment before he answered.
“Come in.” The disembodied voice was eerie over the loudspeaker. Behind, the tree branches moaned and scraped together in the wind.
She glanced back and saw only shadows and dark, so she scooted into the inviting warmth of the house.
The lamps were on dim, the fire was crackling in the fireplace, and there was music, something soft and low playing on the stereo.
She looked around for the box of her stuff, hoping that perhaps he had just left it for her up here on the main floor and she could grab it and go.
“Down here,” he called, and seeing that there was no obvious pile of stuff, she took a breath and started down the staircase to the bottom floor.
The lights were on brighter here, and she saw that he had been doing some work. It smelled of fresh paint and new wood, but the main room seemed untouched, with its bar area and pool table.
“I’m back here,” he called again. Feeling frustrated, wondering what sort of wild goose chase she was being led on, she followed his voice, past the pool table, to the corridor off to the side of the bar. This area had been unfinished, except for the laundry room. It had been a good-sized space, open, broken by only by steel columns and cold concrete.
She stopped, coming to a halt, her mouth not quite working.
“Surprise,” he said, looking at her.
“What is this?”
“A rock-climbing wall. Well, a rock-climbing ceiling.”
She looked around. It wasn’t a tall wall of course, but the room’s walls and ceiling had been lined with plywood, painted gray and studded with toe and handholds. One could climb up the walls and then across the ceiling. The floor, she noticed now, was squishy and well padded.
“A rock-climbing room?”
Unsure, she put her hand up and touched one of the toeholds, feeling the smooth plastic.
“Why,” she whispered, feeling her throat close up.
He took a step toward her, his hands out. “I think you know why, Lynn. It’s a peace offering, a gift, a way to show you that I messed up.”
“But nothing has changed,” she whispered. “You’re still in love with her, and I won’t come after a dead woman. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be harsh. But I need you—all of you.”
“But you do have me,” he said, his arm reaching out to her, stopping her so she wouldn’t go. “There’s something I need to tell you...”
He took a deep breath and Lynn waited.
“I haven’t been in love with Ashley for a long time. Even before she died.”
“What…? But…” Lynn took the step back and he didn’t stop her.
“I told a lie. To you, to her parents, to my family, to my friends. And I think—I know—I would do it again. It was the right thing to do at the time.”
“Why?” she asked, but suddenly the conversation with Lindsay was starting to make sense.
“I thought it was the right thing to do then to protect her memory. To protect her family. I just never thought the lie would overtake me the way it did. Somehow it became the defining point in my life. I was Jackson Sanders, poor Jax who lost his one true love in a car crash. And then, before I knew it, everyone blamed me for killing her. But I wasn’t even with her.”
Lynn’s head was reeling. “I don’t understand.”
“Ashley broke up with me months before she died. Told me the wedding was off, that she never wanted to live in a small town, that she was made for better things. She even told me she was seeing someone else. At first, I thought it was just cold feet so I begged her, asked her to reconsider. We told nobody—she agreed to that—but she wouldn’t see me. The only one who knew was her little sister.
“I was devastated but I also felt, like for the first time in a while, I could breathe. I could be myself. I could take a damn step without worrying what Ashley would think or do or how she would try to twist it into whether or not I really loved her. I realized that I had loved the idea of being in love with her more than actually loving her.”
“I…” Lynn started to say but Jackson kept going on.
“I was getting over her, moving on, making plans with Jake for our business, planning on working another year or two to get the experience. I was happy.”
“And then what happened?”
“Her parents knew something was wrong. Ashley was staying out late, partying a bit, blowing off work. They came to me. Ashley hadn’t told them, so I lied to them, covering for her. But soon I was pissed. Until she came clean to her parents, I was trapped in a lie. I couldn’t say hi to a girl or stay out late without half the town giving me looks like I was stepping out on her. But she didn’t tell them because it kept them off of her back. And I couldn’t do it. Too much of a gentleman, I guess,” he said ruefully.
“And then…”
Jackson swallowed. “I got a call one night, from this guy I knew on the police force. There had been an accident and I might want to get there fast. He was doing me a favor, I think. I went to the scene. Ashley was there, in bad shape, still alive, and I thought she might make it. She’d been driving too fast, drinking probably, and there had been a passenger, Tucker Wolff—some guy we had gone to high school with. Of course, he was fine, not a scratch on him.”
“Let me guess—that’s who she was seeing.”
“Exactly, and things were confusing. By then, EMTs and the other cops got there, people just assumed I was with her. It wasn’t a cover-up, just not quite the truth. Wolff was able to walk away, and I even gave him my car keys, had him take my car. Everyone made assumptions and I played vague. Some people kept quiet and before I knew it, we had a story going.”
“You let it happen?”
“I rode with Ashley to the hospital, and the doctors tried everything they could, but it was too late. Her mom leaned on me for support and it just seemed easier to play along with it, to not let the rumors and the scandals start.”
“So you played the grief-stricken fiancé?”
“I was grief stricken, for a while. I did love her once. And for what it’s worth, she was a vital, commanding person. But Ashley was selfish in life and in death. And then Mrs. Moran, well she went off the deep end, not that I can blame her. But she kind of took it out on me. So I went from the poor, grief-stricken fiancé to one step above a murderer. The fact that the cops did nothing to me only made her crazier.”
“But you could have told the truth at any time, gotten it all to stop,” Lynn said.
“And what? Let everyone know Ashley had been stepping out on me? Ruin her memory? There would have been plenty of people who would have liked to see her fall a bit from her pedestal. No way. Ashley was drunk, she was driving that car. Thank God she only hurt herself. I could take the blame if it meant protecting her parents from that kind of truth.”
Lynn nodded. “I see.”
“Do you? Do you know what this means?”
Lynn wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her close, suddenly cold, and said, “You lied to me as well. You let me believe that
you were still in love with her. That we couldn’t have a real relationship because you were broken. What’s changed?”
Jackson looked at her, his eyes big, bright, intent on her.
“After Ashley died, I vowed I wasn’t ever going to get caught up in a relationship like that again. I lost something of myself—when I was with her and even after she died, when I had to leave town. It took me a while to get myself back, to get back to here. To do that I had to stay detached. And it worked. Until you.”
He took a step toward her and she almost moved away from him, but didn’t, letting his words spill over her.
“Lynn, you broke through that feeling, made me realize that I’d been telling myself a lie to protect myself. I stayed away from relationships, real relationships, because I didn’t ever want to be hurt again. But you showed me that things—love—can be different. It can be passionate, but constant, faithful and exciting, committed and true and real.”
“But you never said anything,” Lynn whispered, not quite believing it.
He took her by her arms and held her so she wouldn’t go, his eyes looking down into her. “I thought I knew what love was. That it was crazy, passionate, ups and downs. And with you it is,” he said, twining his fingers around her hand, “But it’s also warm and even and sexy and full of surprises and joy and happiness and laughter. That’s what you’ve given me. And I don’t want to lose it, I don’t want to lose you.”
“But…”
“From the moment I saw you launch yourself into Petersen’s office, to the way you beat me at the rock wall, to our first kiss, I knew I wanted you. On some level, I knew you made me whole. And then I realized I loved you. Slowly, deeply, always. You’re the woman who can steer a boat, stitch up a hand, give out lollipops, make kids healthy, and deliver babies. You’re an amazing, sexy, beautiful woman. And I want to be with you.”
She could feel the electric pull of their connection, the need for him. She had missed him, been miserable at her core every day without seeing him, without knowing that he was waiting for her.
He touched his forehead down to hers but did no more. “I missed you, so much. Every night you weren’t here, I would come home and this house would be empty and cold; there was no laughter, no fun, no you.”
