Loving Jackson (Wishing Well, Texas Book 10)

by Melanie Shawn

  I stepped inside and once again was struck by just how beautiful she was. I lowered down and sat beside her on the bed.

  “Josie,” I said her name softly.

  She didn’t move.

  “Josie,” I said her name a little louder and ran my fingers through her hair.

  Her eyes fluttered open and when she saw me, a smile pulled on her lips. It made my heart ache knowing that I wouldn’t be seeing that smile tomorrow or the next day.

  “Morning,” she said sleepily. “What time is it?”

  “A little past seven. I would’ve let you sleep but I got a call and I have to leave.”

  “Oh,” her eyes were drifting close again. “Okay.”

  “Josie, I’m leaving. I have to fly to LA.”

  “Okay.” She nodded as her lids closed completely.

  “I’m going to send a car to take you to the airport later, okay?” When she didn’t respond, I gently shook her arm. “Josie did you hear me?”

  “Yep. You LA now. Me car later.” She lifted her hand and gave me a thumbs up, even though her eyes remained closed. “Got it.”

  It felt so wrong to just leave, but what was I supposed to do?

  “It was really amazing meeting you. I’m so glad we had these few days together.”

  “Me, too. It was fun.” She nodded with a smile, still not opening her eyes.

  The thought of me going was obviously not tearing her up inside the way it was me. She didn’t seem bothered at all. When she turned away from me, bringing the comforter with her, that only supported my theory.

  If I had more time, I’d wake her up and try and have a real conversation with her. Hell, if I had more time, I would wake her up, make love to her again, and then have a real conversation with her. But I didn’t.

  So instead, I stood, then bent over and kissed her on her forehead. And I might have whispered that I loved her when I did. I hadn’t meant to. I’d never said those three little words to any female that I wasn’t related to, and now the first time I did it was to a woman that was barely awake, and not at all bothered that our time together was over.

  My timing really sucked.

  Chapter 32

  Josie

  “What doesn’t kill you might put wrinkles on your face, so be sure to moisturize, darling.”

  ~ Josephine Grace Clarke

  As the car pulled onto the street where my grandmother lived, I hit refresh on the page and six more messages appeared. They were coming in at a rate I couldn’t keep up with. All day I’d had been receiving DMs from people who’d seen the footage from yesterday, where’d I’d made a statement for the first time.

  Most of the messages were positive. The negative ones, I immediately deleted and blocked. I was done giving any space in my life to toxic negativity. I read all of them, though, because some were very personal. I’d been brought to tears at least a dozen times reading young girls’ stories of online bullying and slut shaming. It truly boggled my mind how anyone could be so cruel and heartless.

  I was doing my best to respond to everyone, but it was overwhelming. I had to admit, though, it had been a nice distraction from waking up to find Jackson gone. I’d assumed that he was in his room, but when I went down the hall, I’d discovered it was being cleaned.

  I’d messaged him asking if he wanted to get breakfast, but I didn’t get a response for over an hour. When he did respond, he told me that he was in Los Angeles. He said that he’d woken me up and told me that he had to go and that he’d be sending a car for me.

  That’s when a vague memory of a conversation floated through my mind. It wasn’t clear, and honestly felt like more of a dream than anything else. But I did distinctly remember him telling me about the car. I also “remembered” him telling me that he loved me, but I knew that part had to be a dream.

  I wasn’t going to lie; it stung a little (a lot!) that I hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to him. I’d thought it would be better to rip the Band-Aid off, but I was wrong. I missed him. More than I’d even imagined I would.

  And I may or may not have been stalking his Instagram account before and after my flight back to New York. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a ton on there to stalk. He didn’t post often, and rarely were there any pictures of himself. It was extremely disappointing.

  I felt like my heart was broken, like a physical piece of me was missing, but at the same time I felt stronger than I’d ever felt in my life. It was quite the juxtaposition.

  We pulled up in front of my grandmother’s building and I knew that I needed to put on a brave face. When I’d called her to let her know I was flying home today, she’d immediately shot questions at me—rapid fire.

  Where was Jackson?

  Had something happened?

  Was everything okay with us?

  I’d calmly explained that he’d had to leave early because production had gotten moved up. She’d accepted my response over the phone, but I had a feeling she was going to have more questions for me once I got inside.

  “Thank you!” I told the Uber driver as I grabbed my bags from the seat and opened the door.

  It was amazing how fast things could grow on you. I hadn’t been comfortable with Jackson opening doors and carrying my luggage for me just a few days ago, but now I really missed it.

  I missed him.

  My eyes started getting misty, but I sniffed back the emotion. No tears. If my grandmother saw tears, she’d probably fly to wherever Jackson was and drag him back here. The woman had been wanting me to be with a man for years. I would say that she wasn’t picky, but she actually was. And Jackson ticked all of her, and my, boxes.

  “Hello, there Ms. Clarke. Nice to see you again.” Milton Hughes, who had been a doorman at my grandmother’s building since before I was born, held the door open for me.

  “Hi, Milton.” I dug in my bag and pulled out four postcards and handed them to him. Milton had never been out of the state of New York, but he loved postcards. So, since I was a little girl, I’d brought him postcards from everywhere I’d visited. “Here ya go.”

  His face lit up.

  “It’s no place fancy.” I didn’t want him to get his hopes up. “Just small towns across America.”

  “I love small towns!” He enthused as he helped me to the elevator and pressed the up button. When the doors opened, I walked inside. As I pressed the number eighteen and stepped back, he held up his hand. “Oh, and I saw you on the news and I thought, that’s my girl. You tell ’em.” Pride radiated from his face as the doors shut.

  It made me feel good that people I cared about supported me in my decision to speak out. I tried not to think about the fact that Milton may or may not have seen the reason that I’d had to speak up in the first place.

  My grandmother was waiting in her doorway with open arms and a glass of wine when the elevator stopped at her floor. She wore a floral silk robe, high heels, a bright red lip and not a hair was out of place. She was always “camera ready.”

  She was beaming as she announced loudly into the hallway. “There she is! The woman of the hour! I’ve been getting calls all day for comments! The phone has been ringing off the hook, darling! What a glorious day!”

  I didn’t quite share her enthusiasm. But any day that the press’s attention was focused on my grandmother was a good day in her book. She was firmly in the “the only bad publicity is no publicity” camp.

  “Hi, Grandmother.” I kissed her on her cheek in greeting. “You look beautiful.”

  “You look tired,” she replied before I even set my bags down.

  “I am tired.” I’d wanted to go straight home and go to bed after my flight, but my grandmother had insisted that I come see her first.

  “So, what is the plan?” She offered me a glass of wine that I gladly accepted before plopping down on her sofa.

  “The plan?” The only plan I had was going home, going to bed, and staying there for as long as possible.

  “Yes, the plan.” She walked across the room an
d back with a dramatic flair that only she could pull off. My grandmother lived her life on stage, even if that stage was her living room and there was only an audience of one. “Our first interview will obviously be Gayle King, and then after that we can—”

  “Our first interview?” I cut her off and shook my head. “What are you talking about? I’m not giving any interviews.”

  “Of course not darling.” She picked up her folding fan, opened it and began to flutter it in front of her face. “You aren’t giving any interviews. We are. I told you, the phone has been ringing off the hook. The offers are pouring in. This is our ‘me too’ moment. Gayle wants to focus on the generational differences of harassment in the industry. I mean, the stories I could tell. Don’t worry, darling, you’ll barely have to say a word.”

  The same sense of dread, of déjà vu, that I’d felt when I’d woken up yesterday morning and found out that Gio was once again using me to get his five minutes of fame washed over me. My grandmother was pushing me into the spotlight, again. But this time, I had no plans of going.

  “Grandmother, I don’t want a ‘me too’ moment. I’m not going to do any interviews—”

  “You already have, darling. When you spoke to those reporters you caused quite a buzz. It was brilliant. Now all we have to do is—”

  “Grandmother, you’re not listening to me!”

  I’d never raised my voice to my grandmother, and it shocked me when I heard myself speak to her like that. It must’ve shocked her too because she stopped talking and lowered onto her fainting couch.

  I did feel a little guilty about shouting at her, but I was happy to have gotten her attention, because there were some things that I needed to tell her. “I love you, Grandmother, but I’m not going to do any interviews. I’ve said what I wanted to say about the situation. If I have something else to say, it will be on my terms. I never wanted to go on that show in the first place. I didn’t apply for it, you did. And after I turned it down and told you I wasn’t going to go on it, you posted on social media that I was cast. I went on the show for you, but I can’t do it again. I have to live my own life, for me.”

  My heart raced as I waited for my grandmother to respond. She sat silently and I tried to get a hint of what she was feeling from her face. But for the first time in my life, I had no idea. Her expression was blank.

  Silence hung between us and my instinct was to fill it by apologizing. But I forced myself to remain quiet. Everything I’d said was the truth. I didn’t have anything to be sorry for, even if hearing it made my grandmother uncomfortable. So instead, I enjoyed the glass of Pinot Grigio that she’d given me.

  I’d just taken my last drink when my grandmother finally spoke. “I’m sorry.”

  I blinked at her in disbelief, certain that I must’ve heard her wrong. In all my twenty-eight years, I didn’t think I’d ever heard her apologize for anything. At least not sincerely. She’d said it sarcastically more times than I could count. Like when she’d read a bad review and say, “I’m so sorry that you have no taste and cannot appreciate greatness.”

  I was still stunned speechless as she continued, “I shouldn’t have submitted you for the show without your knowledge or consent. I should’ve honored your decision not to be a part of it instead of forcing your hand by announcing it to my fans online. I thought I was helping by pushing you out of your comfort zone, but I should’ve listened to you and taken you at your word.”

  Shocked didn’t even scratch the surface of what I felt. My grandmother had not only listened to me, she understood what I was talking about, and had taken responsibility for her actions. I felt like this was the start of a brand-new relationship for us. One where she respected my boundaries.

  “Thank you.” I stood and hugged her.

  “Of course, darling. And now that we have that taken care of, what are we going to do about the Jackson situation? That man is perfect for you.”

  Okay, so maybe not all my boundaries.

  Chapter 33

  Jackson

  “True love doesn’t change who you are, darling, it only accentuates your best qualities.”

  ~ Josephine Grace Clarke

  I tried to block out the ringing in my head, but it wouldn’t go away. My lids were heavy as I forced them open and saw a ceiling fan spinning overhead. The first thought I had was that Josie wasn’t beside me. It had been my first thought of the day for the past two months. I went to sleep thinking about her and woke up thinking about her, and every minute in between wasn’t much different.

  It blew my mind that spending a week with someone could change my life, but that’s exactly what our time together had done. She was never off my mind. I wondered how she was doing, what she was doing, and if she thought about me even a fraction as much as I thought about her.

  Keeping in touch was difficult because I was fourteen hours ahead of her, so my day was starting when hers was ending. We’d texted a lot and I’d spoken to her on the phone a couple of times, but we’d mainly talked about the documentary and general life stuff, we hadn’t gotten into anything personal.

  Last week, I’d worked up the nerve to ask her if she was seeing anyone, and she’d said that she wasn’t. But I had no idea if she had the same feelings for me that I had for her and it was driving me a little bit crazy.

  The ringing that had woken me up started again, and I realized it had been my phone. I grabbed it off the nightstand and saw that it was my brother Travis Facetiming me.

  I pushed myself up and my legs swung over the side of the bed as I sat up. Clearing my throat, I answered the call. The screen filled with a tiny baby wearing a pink and blue striped cap swaddled in a white blanket lying in a clear bassinet.

  “It’s a girl!” My brother exclaimed off-screen. “Meet your niece Willow Faith Briggs.”

  “She’s beautiful, man. Congratulations. How’s Mia doing?”

  Travis flipped the screen, so the camera faced him. He was beaming with pride. “Good. Tired, but good. She’s glad she had her now. She was scared that she was going to be late and end up missing the screening.”

  “Oh, right.” The cast and crew screening of What is Love? was in a month. They were having it in Wishing Well at the community center. I’d gotten an evite for it last week.

  I heard someone talking in the background, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  “Mia wants to know if you think you’re gonna make it. She said you didn’t RSVP.”

  “I can’t. I’m still going to be here.”

  The shoot wasn’t going well. Lancaster was a brilliant director, but he was going over budget and we weren’t making our days. As of last week, we were a month behind schedule.

  Something caught Travis’s attention, and he looked up and smiled before turning back to me. “Gotta go, bro. Sawyer, Delilah, JJ, and Destiny just showed up.”

  “Tell them I said…”—the call disconnected before I finished saying—“hi.”

  I sat staring at my phone, and I couldn’t help but feel the silence. The only sound in my empty room was the swoosh of the fan blades as they cut through the air. If loneliness was a sound, that was it.

  It wasn’t just Josie that I missed. I missed my family. I wanted to show up at the hospital to meet my new niece in person, not over the phone.

  Instead, I was going to be spending my day off in my room. I stared at my camera, sitting on the otherwise bare desk. I hadn’t taken a single picture since I’d arrived here. I’d been so inspired when I was back home, but it was gone now.

  I grabbed my computer and pulled up my photo gallery. It was filled with pictures of Josie that I’d taken on my phone and still camera. The first one was Josie with Duchess. Their foreheads were pressed against one another’s. The next was Josie standing at the Wishing Well. Her long golden red hair shimmered in the sun.

  There were several shots of Josie at Sunday dinner. My favorite was the one of her holding my niece Lilah Rose. There were some shots of her at the Dreamy
Bean on Firefly Island speaking with the harbormaster. A series at the river in Harper’s Crossing when she saved the snail. In Whisper Lake, she was sitting with Charlotte and getting her nails painted. And in Hope Falls, I’d taken several shots while she was speaking to the reporters.

  As I flipped through the photos, I realized that I didn’t just miss Josie, I loved her. I was in love with her. I missed my family and was homesick, but if Josie were here with me or I was with her, I wouldn’t be lonely. I’d be home.

  My phone rang, and I looked down fully expecting it to be Josie calling. For a split second, I was convinced that she must’ve had the same epiphany that I had and was calling to tell me. My heart sank when I saw my mom’s number.

  “Hey, Mama.” I tried to sound upbeat to disguise my disappointment.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “We’ll get back to that.” She pulled out the phrase she’d used my entire childhood when she wanted to let one of us know we weren’t off the hook but there were more pressing matters she needed to discuss. “I was just calling to tell you that you are an uncle again. Miss Willow Faith Briggs made her debut at seven p.m. She weighs six pounds, nine ounces, and is nineteen inches long. She and mama are healthy and your brother is over the moon!”

  “I know. Travis called. She’s beautiful.”

  “She is, isn’t she?”

  “She’s perfect. I can’t wait to meet her in person.”

  “And when might that be? Are you coming home for the premier?”

  “It’s a cast and crew screening, and no. I’m still going to be here.”

  “So when are you coming home next?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I thought things were different the last time you came home. I thought that you might’ve caught the bug.”

  “The bug?”’

  “The homesick bug.”

  She was right. I had caught the bug, but there was no way I was going to admit that to her.

  “Have you been keeping in touch with Josie?”