by Jamie Beck
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“Don’t be.” She stroked his hair. “Don’t ever be sorry for having a heart, Jackson.”
He heaved a sigh in her arms and then eased away. “I don’t know what to do with all this.” He gestured like he was holding a heavy weight in front of his chest.
“Running from it won’t help.” Gabby immediately pressed her lips together, wishing she’d have kept quiet and let him talk.
He scrubbed his hands over his face before he sputtered, “I know what my dad did wasn’t about me. Yet, he was willing to rip apart our family, so in a way, it was about me. Honestly, I knew he was a cold fucker, but I never thought him devious. And the worst part,” his voice cracked, “is knowing my mom went to her grave humiliated and heartbroken. How do I forgive him for that when it makes my stomach hurt this much?”
“I’m so sorry.” Gabby hugged herself, unsure of what else she could do or say.
“On top of all those feelings, I hate myself for forcing that secret out into the open. I basically destroyed my mom’s last wish and, at the same time, forced all this shit on Cat. I’m so fucking selfish, I can’t stand it.”
He covered his eyes with one hand and she heard him gulp for air. “All this time David’s been protecting us like Mom asked. The only way I can honor her wish now is by not letting this tear the family apart. But God, how can I deal with Janet? I hate her. Hate her! She’s as bad as Alison . . .” He swiped a tear from his cheek.
Gabby touched his shoulder. “Talk to David. I’m sure he went through all these emotions, too. He can help you cope. I know he wants to do that, Jackson. And now that you know why he left, maybe you can finally really forgive him, too.”
Jackson stared at her. He shrugged with a slight nod of the head, which she took as a good sign. “I suppose. Truthfully, I don’t know how to do this sober. God knows I want a drink right now. It’d be so much easier to tune out than to have all this noise in my head. Thank God I have you to keep me from going over the edge.”
She froze. His comment hadn’t been a surprise, but it bothered her nonetheless. A sense of déjà vu made her angry with him for putting her in this position like her mom had done time and time again. For somehow foisting responsibility for keeping him sober on her.
All these weeks he’d done such a good job of hiding his cravings that she’d convinced herself his drinking problem wasn’t a real problem. But looking at him now, she knew the truth. His doctor had been right. He wasn’t ready. And she didn’t have the ability to raise her son, run her business, fight Noah, and take on responsibility for seeing Jackson through his recovery. Although painful, he’d confirmed for her the decision she knew she had to make.
“You won’t like this, Jackson, but I have to say it.” She set her hands on her hips.
“Say what?” he asked, eyes wide.
“Your dad didn’t have to confess. He only did it because you said you needed it and could handle it. He did it to help you, so now you have to be as good as your word. They all came up here for you. They’re all dealing with the same truths you are. Now it’s up to you to figure out how to move forward like you promised, without a damn drink, and without counting on me to stop you. You have to learn to forgive, trust, and accept everyone with all their flaws, like they love and accept you with yours.”
“Flaws are one thing. These are lies!”
“Not all lies are equal. If David had never found out about the affair, would your mother have told any of you? Would you be so angry with her if she kept her marital troubles private? And David didn’t lie. He kept a promise. If you choose to see it as a lie, then at least acknowledge it was one meant to protect you.” The next thing Gabby said had more than one meaning, not that Jackson would know it. “I’d do anything—anything—to protect Luc, and I sure hope I don’t have to justify every mistake I ever make to him—or anyone—just to prove my love. We’re all human. We’ve all hurt people, intentionally and unintentionally. But it doesn’t mean we don’t love them. Who made you the judge and jury of people’s sins? Leave that to God. Honestly, if you go around expecting perfection, you’ll never be happy.”
“I don’t expect perfection.” He grabbed hold of her hands. “All I want is for people to be more like you.”
“Me?” Her heart thudded, knowing she was about to tumble off whatever pedestal he’d put her on.
“Yes, you. Honest, kind, and a straight shooter.” He gathered her in his arms. “At least with you I don’t have to worry about a sucker punch.”
Tears filled her eyes before she could stop them. “I’m not so brave.”
“Sure you are.” He grinned for the first time all afternoon. “Why does that make you cry?”
She bit her lip, her breaths coming in short gulps. “I’m really not so brave. At least, not when it comes to Luc.”
“You’re awesome with Luc. Look at how you took on motherhood when other choices would’ve made your life easier.” He hugged her tight, his own troubles apparently taking a backseat while he tried to soothe her.
“I love him Jackson. More than anything . . . or anyone.”
“Of course you do.” He looked at her with such fondness, she wanted to disappear.
“Oh, God, Jackson, I wish we had more time . . . I . . .” She pressed her palm to her forehead, chest tight. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“Noah served me legal papers this morning.” She bent at the waist for a second to catch her breath. “He wants to establish paternity.”
“So?” Jackson shrugged. “You know he’s Luc’s dad, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’m confused.” He tilted his head. “Why is this a big deal?”
“I never put Noah’s name on Luc’s birth certificate because we weren’t married. Legally I didn’t have to acknowledge paternity. But now he wants to make it official so he can seek custody.”
“No judge is going to take Luc from you, Gabby. But if Noah wants to finally step up for his son and get some kind of regular visitation, isn’t that better for Luc in the long run?”
Jackson’s blind spot when it came to fathers’ rights amazed her.
“You don’t get it. This isn’t about Luc. It’s a power play. Ever since my mom’s accusations, he’s been sniffing you out. He found out about your lawsuit and now he’s labeling you a violent drunk. He talked to a lawyer, and he thinks that between my having you around and my mom’s reappearance, I’m putting Luc at risk.”
Jackson’s expression shifted from comfort to something distant, but she pressed on. “I know it’s not true. You’re wonderful with Luc. But Noah’s a native son of Winhall, and a cop that most people like. I was a teen mom with a drug-addict mother—one I stupidly invited back into my life recently. Noah will paint this whole situation to look much different than it is.”
Her body sagged. “I’m afraid, Jackson. I’m afraid to risk him convincing a judge I’m unfit. I just can’t. Who knows, maybe Noah would even use my dad’s stroke to show that the whole situation here is unstable.” She looked at Jackson, whose emotions she couldn’t discern. “All I know is, if we’re not together, he won’t press this. You’re leaving in a few days anyway, so . . .” She paused, unsure how to finish the thought. How to say it seemed rather pointless, because long-distance relationships were tough even without all of the baggage she and Jackson had between them. “I hate all of this, but I’m too afraid to take a chance. I couldn’t live with the worst-case scenario if I fight and lose.”
“Have you talked to a lawyer?” Jackson asked.
“Not yet.”
He brightened a little. “Don’t get all worked up until a lawyer weighs in on Noah’s threats. I don’t believe any judge would take Luc out of this home. Besides, I’m not violent, nor am I drinking.”
“But you want to drink.” She bit her lip.
“Come again?” His brows rose.
“A little while ago, you said you needed a drink
and I’m the only thing that stopped you. What if I hadn’t been around? Would you have gone to a bar? That’s a lot of pressure on me. I can’t be the only thing standing between you and alcohol. It’s too much. I’ve lived that way once, always worrying if I’d trigger a bad impulse. I can’t do it again. It’s not fair to me, and it’s really not fair to Luc.”
“Gabby, I didn’t mean it literally.” Jackson threw out his hands.
“You say that now, but I heard it in your voice and saw it in your eyes. That desperation. Heard the relief in your voice when you said you were glad you had me to stop you. Maybe if I hadn’t dealt with my mom all those years I’d feel differently. I don’t know. I do know I need to give one hundred percent to my son. If I have to worry about you not being able to handle a tough day without drinking, or worry every week about Noah scheming to manipulate Luc because he wants you out of the picture, none of us will be happy.”
Jackson stepped back, arms crossed. “What are you saying, exactly?”
“Maybe we should’ve listened to your doctor. You need more time to get yourself together. To deal with your family and to go a longer period of time without drinking before you get involved with me, or anyone.” Her nose tingled as tears clogged her throat. “I think, since you’re leaving, we should break things off for now so I can protect Luc, and you can heal the right way. Maybe in six months or so we can talk and see . . .”
The only physical reaction she noted was a slight slackening of his jaw. No explosion of anger, thank God. No pleading. No tears.
He turned away again, staring out the window. His shoulders bunched. The air in the room seemed suddenly colder.
“Luc’s hungry,” he said without turning around. “You should go make him and your dad dinner now.”
Not the retort she’d expected.
“Jackson, you’re freaking me out a little.” She approached him. “Talk to me. What are you thinking?”
He remained closed off. “I’m thinking you should go.”
“I’m afraid to leave you. I don’t want you to drink.”
“I think we’ve just established that that shouldn’t be your concern.”
Gabby approached him, worried by the flat tone of his voice and the fact that he wouldn’t look at her. “Can we finish this discussion after dinner?”
“Don’t think so.” He shook his head.
“Tomorrow, then?”
“No.”
“Jackson, this isn’t easy for me. This is the last thing I want.” She reached out to touch his arm. “I lo—”
“Don’t. Don’t say that word. God, I’m so sick of people tossing that word around but not standing behind it.” He crossed his arms and looked at his feet, his back still turned. “Please, go.”
Gabby swiped the tears from her cheeks and stumbled down the stairs. She glanced up at his window, but didn’t see his silhouette watching her. Pinching her runny nose, she darted into her house.
Of the hundred images she had of Jackson, she could only hope her very last one wouldn’t be of the stony man she’d just left behind.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Jackson willed himself not to go to the window. Not to watch her disappear from his life. Not to acknowledge the newest hole in his heart.
He sat at the dining table and set his forehead against the cool, wood tabletop, remembering when she’d promised to stand by him, right here in this room. But when the first test came, she caved. Bailed on him, like others in the past. Didn’t even call a lawyer first to figure out whether Noah’s threats were credible. Hadn’t even asked Jackson for help. Not to mention dumping this on him in the wake of his own lousy day.
The effort he’d put into the past five weeks now seemed an utter waste of time. The day’s revelations had demolished whatever strides he’d thought he’d made in therapy and with Gabby.
His head throbbed thanks to the uncompromising thoughts knocking against his skull. The sense of isolation—something he’d thought Gabby had eliminated—clamored the loudest. He sat, alone once more, with no one to talk to.
Of course, he remembered one friend he could call on. One who always made him feel better—or numb, in any case. Ol’ Jack Daniel’s. A friend he could trust.
Jackson snatched his keys from the counter and stalked out the door. When he pulled into Mulligan’s parking lot, his body fairly shook from the adrenaline rush of anticipation. A seductive craving pulled at him despite images of Gabby, Vivi, Cat, David, and Hank temporarily disrupting its grip.
Perspiration dampened his skin, making his shirt stick to him like masking tape. He tightened his hands around the steering wheel until he couldn’t fight the urge anymore. For what, or whom, did his sobriety matter now? Everyone probably expected him to end up here again, so he might as well start now.
Jackson got out of the car and strode inside. He hefted himself onto a stool at one corner and, within a minute, Tess sauntered over to him.
“Hello, handsome. Nice to see you again. What can I get you?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and flashed a flirty smile. “Another root beer?”
He aimed for a polite grin. “Jack on the rocks.”
“You got it.” She winked.
When she turned away, he added, “Make it a double.”
While she fixed his drink, his skin itched. He looked around at the others in the pub. All men. Probably men escaping their troubles, like Jackson.
Tess set the glass in front of him. “Want a snack, too?”
“Nope.”
“How ’bout some company?” She leaned forward, the contents of her V-neck shirt on prominent display.
Tess may have been forward, but at least she didn’t pretend to be someone she wasn’t. Maybe he should take advantage of what she offered as another way to block out his pain, but his heart wanted only one woman. Stupid heart had never served him well. “No, thanks. Kind of need to be alone.”
“If you change your mind, gimme a whistle.” She touched his hand and then wandered to a customer at the other side of the bar.
Jackson stared at the glass, twisting it in circles, watching the amber liquid slosh against the rim.
He lifted it to his nose and sniffed. Instantly a jumble of hazy memories passed through his mind. With them came unwelcome hints of shame and regret, of a cold so bone-deep it hurt, and of fear. Fear of what might happen if he put his lips to the rim and tasted the bite of alcohol.
The mighty call of numb bliss gripped him, urging him to tip the glass and slide into that place where his feelings didn’t claw at his insides. Where reminders that all of his relationships had fallen apart today wouldn’t hurt so much.
He continued twisting the glass, his thoughts wandering to his mother, who’d borne her broken heart with dignity and grace. A new wave of shame consumed him for being unable to follow her example.
He rubbed his eyes with his palms. His dad had been right about one thing. His mother wouldn’t be proud of his behavior. She’d asked David for that damn promise to keep her family—her legacy—intact. Seeing him torn apart this way would’ve killed her if the cancer hadn’t. Sorry, Mom, he thought as he grasped the tumbler once more.
“Well, well. Looky here.” Using his phone, Noah snapped a photo of Jackson holding the drink. “Thanks, buddy. I couldn’t have asked for better evidence.”
“Fuck off.” Jackson stared at the full glass of whiskey. What did it matter? Gabby had walked away. Everyone kept pressuring him to cave in to Doug. His family seemed even more lost to him than before.
“Maybe I should buy you that drink to celebrate the fact that Gabby’s going to dump you the minute she sees this photo.”
“You’re too late, so send the photo or don’t. Doesn’t matter to me.”
Noah cocked his head, as if trying to determine whether or not Jackson had just lied to him. “That so?”
Normally Noah’s smug attitude would anger Jackson, but other thoughts preoccupied him. He thought about Luc, an innocent victim in his fa
ther’s schemes. The trusting little boy who’d embraced Jackson completely and healed a little part of his heart. He thought about Vivi and the baby she’d have this spring. Of how much he wanted to be part of that child’s life when he or she came into the world. He thought about the child he might’ve had already, and the children he wanted one day, which would never happen if he didn’t learn how to control himself and cope with pain.
The combination of thoughts drove him to shove the whiskey across the bar.
“Thanks, Noah,” Jackson said, rising from his stool.
“Thanks?” Noah chuckled.
“Yeah, thanks for following me around and spying on me. For being such an asshole. In a twisted way, you just stopped me from making a big mistake.”
Jackson tossed twelve bucks on the bar.
“I’m the asshole?” Noah rolled his eyes. “You’re the one with a drinking problem.”
“Yeah, guess I am. But I’m not the one who walked out on my pregnant girlfriend. I’m not the one who didn’t go to the hospital to witness my son’s birth. I’m not the one who has neglected to support my son for three years. And I’m not so desperate and insecure that I’d resort to threats and bullying in order to control a woman I’d already wronged in so many ways.” Jackson smiled as smugly as Noah. “That’s all on you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some bags to pack.”
“Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.” Noah sat on the stool and motioned for Tess.
Jackson took two steps then stopped and turned around. “Now that I’m leaving, Gabby’s going to need lots more help with Luc until her dad’s fully recovered. Be a man, for once, and step up.”
Jackson stalked off and didn’t stop until he got to his car. He’d entered the bar at dusk, but now all traces of the sun had vanished. Dried leaves rustled around the parking lot. He inhaled the brisk clean air feeling marginally better about himself for having withstood temptation despite the shittiest day in recent history.
He drove to his apartment thinking about next steps. Things he needed to do to make his mom proud and move on with his life. Start small, he thought. Pack, drive home, get some sleep. Those things he could manage, barely, as long as he didn’t think about the big stuff.
