Loving Jackson (Wishing Well, Texas Book 10)

by Melanie Shawn

  Josie

  “Bad days come and go, darling, and so do bad people.”

  ~ Josephine Grace Clarke

  I’d never been so happy for the invention of airplane mode. The four-hour flight to California without internet access was my own private nirvana. I couldn’t receive any messages from people checking in on me, wondering how I was doing after TMZ posted the video of Gio saying that the entire sex tape was my idea. No reporters had access to me, trying to get soundbites or quotes so they could regurgitate the story ad nauseam.

  Today had not gone as I’d planned. I was doing my best to focus on the positive. At least my grandmother wasn’t dead. That was the only good news I’d had. When I’d woken up the first thing I’d seen was a very serious Jackson sitting in the chair that was in the corner of my room. The moment I saw his face, I knew something was wrong. My first thought was that something had happened to my grandmother.

  When he told me that she wanted me to call her, my second thought had been that I was happy she was alive. That relief had been short-lived when I pressured him into telling me what was wrong before I called her.

  I might be ten years older and wiser, but the moment Jackson explained what Gio had done and was planning on doing, I was transported back to that scared eighteen-year-old girl. All of the work I’d done over the years to put the pieces of my shattered soul back together, and it broke all over again in that moment. It was emotional déjà vu. I felt panicked, humiliated, angry, helpless, sad, embarrassed, and numb all at once.

  All of my emotional and physical responses were exactly the same, but there was one glaring exception.

  Jackson was with me, and he had been amazing. He’d been supportive, and he hadn’t told me that everything was okay. It was a pet peeve of mine when people did that. Instead, he just listened, offered advice when I asked him, and offered any help that I needed. If it weren’t for him, I might’ve just got the first flight back to JFK, gone home, crawled in bed, and stayed there for, oh, a year or so until this all died down.

  But he’d given me the emotional support I’d needed to board the plane to California and face the day ahead. We had our last interview scheduled, and it was a big one. Kyle Austen Reed was what my grandmother referred to as a “real” movie star. Thankfully, I wasn’t walking into the interview blind. I’d met Kyle at an awards ceremony I’d attended with my grandmother when I was sixteen. I’d spent most of the night talking to his date, popstar Karina Black. We’d bonded over Kyle and my grandmother both introducing themselves by all three of their names to everyone they met.

  Mia told me that Jackson and Kyle knew each other because Kyle was Jackson’s best friend Holden Reed’s cousin. And they were sort of related since Harmony, Jackson’s little sister, had married the eldest Reed brother, Hudson. It really was a small world.

  One more interview, and then the portion of my job dealing with the public in person would be completed and I could turn my focus to more pressing matters at hand.

  Beside me, Jackson stirred and I glanced over to find him still sleeping peacefully. He was so beautiful. That was never an adjective that I’d used to describe a man before. But that was the word that came to mind when I looked his way. Between his long, thick eyelashes, high cheekbones, and the stubble peppering his strong jawline, there was just not another adjective I could use. Just looking at him brought me more comfort than anything else ever had.

  My grandmother, as well-meaning as she was, had done her best to be there for me. She’d basically had the same take on the situation that she’d had a decade ago. She’d told me that everything was fine, there was nothing to be upset about, her attorneys were on the case, and she’d pay a small fortune to make sure that Gio was stopped. But none of that had really made me feel any better.

  The damage, once again, was already done. It was out there and with the popularity of the show streaming, more people than ever were accessing it. I felt my chest tightening, making it difficult to breathe, and I started to do my 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 when the memory of Jackson looking in my eyes saying, “Fuck ’em,” came back to me.

  “Fuck ’em,” I whispered beneath my breath.

  “Did you need something?”

  I looked up and saw the air hostess standing beside me.

  “Oh no, I just…um, no I don’t need anything.”

  “Do you want me to bring a pillow or blanket?” The air hostess motioned to Jackson who was lights out.

  “Sure.” I nodded.

  Jackson had stayed up all night because he said that he hadn’t wanted to accidently sleep through me waking up. And he hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before, because we’d been…busy.

  “Excuse me, dear.” A woman, who’d reminded me of Betty White when she boarded, reached across the aisle and touched my arm.

  I wasn’t in the mood to have the “you remind me of someone” conversation, but no matter what was going on in my personal life, the last thing I would ever want to be was rude. “Yes?”

  “I just wanted to say that you two make a wonderful couple. You’re going to last. You remind me of my Archie and me.” She touched the ring on her left hand wistfully.

  “Oh…” I felt my cheeks heat at the thought of Jackson and I being together. “Thank you, but we’re not a couple.”

  “Really? Are you sure about that?”

  “I’m sure.” I nodded…but I wished that I wasn’t.

  Unfortunately, our lives—or should I say Jackson’s life—didn’t really leave much room for gray area. He’d been really clear with his brother that he didn’t want anything serious. And I believed that his chosen profession only served to back up that claim. He’d be on to his next adventure by this time next week, and I’d still be dealing with the fallout of my life being fodder for tabloid journalism.

  “Hmm.” Her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed, appearing less than convinced by my response. “In all my eighty-five years, I’ve never been wrong about this.”

  I wondered if she was psychic or something. Not that I believed in psychics, but my grandmother did. Or I should say, she believed in anyone that told her the things she wanted to hear. Things like she had great success in front of her, she had six soulmates, she was blessed with great talent. She ate that stuff up.

  “You see dear, there are tell-tale signs that show me which couples have the real thing, and you two have them.”

  “What are the signs?”

  “Oh, no.” She smiled sweetly and shook her head as she patted my hand. “I can’t tell you that. Half the fun is discovering them.”

  With that, she put her earphones back on and continued watching the movie that was playing on the screen in front of her.

  I sat back in my seat and thought about what Jessa had said about “the look,” and before that, when Colonel Hunter had implied that there was something between Jackson and me.

  For a moment, I let myself wonder what it would be like if they were right. What my life would be like if this thing with Jackson were real, and not just a “hot fling.” What if Jackson and I could have an actual relationship?

  It was too abstract a concept for me to even imagine. I just didn’t see a world where that would work. He was going to be out of the country for the next eighteen months…and after that, who knew.

  And he doesn’t want anything serious, the tiny voice in the back of my head reminded me.

  “Here you go.” The air hostess handed me a blanket and a pillow. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Thank you.”

  I shifted toward Jackson and, as gently as possible, tilted his head up and slid the pillow between him and the side of the plane. I hoped that I didn’t wake him, but I also knew that if he stayed in that position, he’d wake up with a crazy kink in his neck. I released his head so that it was resting on the pillow. Thankfully, he stayed asleep.

  Watching him look so peaceful, made me feel peaceful. Like I was absorbing it through osmosis or something.

  As b
ad as things were right now with Gio unearthing old wounds, I knew that I’d inevitably be facing even more heartache soon. Sometime over the past few days, I’d come to develop real feelings for Jackson Briggs. Feelings that I feared would not simply go away when he did.

  Chapter 27

  Jackson

  “Darling, when someone shines like the sun, it’s only natural to be drawn to their warmth.”

  ~ Josephine Grace Clarke

  “Maybe you should turn that off.” I suggested after Josie’s phone dinged with another Google alert. I’d tried not to put my two cents in, but it was killing me seeing the look on her face every time a new article or post showed up. I couldn’t believe how fast the story had taken off.

  “I can’t.” Her head was cast down as she sat in the passenger seat and scrolled down her screen.

  “Anything new?”

  “No.” She set her phone back down on her lap. With a sigh she looked out the rental car window.

  After landing in Sacramento, we’d taken a charter plane to Lake Tahoe, and were now driving to a small town called Hope Falls. We’d been on the road for about thirty minutes and her phone had alerted her at least a hundred times.

  “Are you sure you want to do this today? I can ask Kyle if we can push the interview until tomorrow.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

  I wanted to argue with her and tell her that no, she wasn’t fine. I wanted to take her to our hotel room and hide her away from the world. I wanted to protect her from anything and everything that could possibly hurt her. Logically, I knew that was impossible, but right now kidnapping her and seizing all electronic devices felt like exactly the right thing to do.

  “Wow, how beautiful.” Josie leaned forward and stared out the windshield at the pine trees lining the majestic Sierra Nevada mountain range that was the backdrop as we passed the sign welcoming us to Hope Falls. “This is just…stunning.”

  “It is.” The scenery didn’t hold a candle to her beauty, but I didn’t think this was the right time to tell her that. She was dealing with enough without me hitting on her. Not that that’s what I would be doing, but it might come off that way.

  “Is it just me or does every town we’ve been to seem like it is a postcard come to life?”

  “Yeah.” I’d thought the same thing, each town definitely held its own charm. The lightning bugs on Firefly Island. The crystal blue river in Harper’s Crossing. The stone castle in Whisper Lake, and now the mountain vista in Hope Falls.

  In my teens and even early twenties, I would’ve never appreciated these small towns the way I did now. I’d spent so many years exploring other countries, foreign landscapes, and international destinations and I knew that I’d needed to do that. But now, now I was feeling more and more that my life was taking a different turn. I was pretty sure that the woman seated beside me had something to do with that.

  My mom had always loved the song “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic” by The Police. It was like the song had been written about Josie. Everything she did was magic.

  During the flight, I’d passed out after being awake for over twenty-four hours. I hadn’t planned on sleeping, but before the seatbelt signs had turned off, I was out. When I woke up, my head was resting on a pillow and a blanket was over my lap. I’d asked her if she’d done it and she’d nodded as if it wasn’t a big deal. But it was a big deal. To me.

  She was dealing with a personal life crisis, yet she’d taken care of me. Just like she’d picked up the snail and set it out of harm’s way. Or coaxed Charlotte out of her shell by playing nail salon after a long two days, when I was sure she’d rather have just had a beer and relaxed.

  Small gestures of kindness, when no one was looking, were a huge deal to me. In this documentary, I’d heard people talk about what love was to them and, although I’d never been in love, I’d had a front-row seat to my parents’ marriage. We’d been interviewing people for the last two days about love, but Walker and Dolly Briggs were the gold standard of love in my book.

  And I’d seen the little things that my parents had done for each other. The way that my dad always made sure that there was a fresh pot of coffee waiting for my mom when she woke up. Or the way my mom made sure that my dad had ten minutes to unwind after coming in from a hard day of work on the farm, before being bombarded with questions, and the chaos of having nine kids.

  It was in the way my dad would notice the dark circles under my mom’s eyes when she’d take too much on, and make sure she got a “mom’s night off”—which meant that from sundown to bedtime, us kids were not allowed to complain, ask for anything, or even argue amongst ourselves.

  I watched it firsthand. I’d witnessed what two people who respected one another, loved one another, and were a true team could do.

  I think on some unconscious level, I’d always viewed their relationship as an anchor holding them down. I’d thought that once you had that sort of love, and especially if you had kids, your life was no longer your own. I’d never understood the appeal of it before now.

  But after meeting Josie, I was beginning to realize that once you met the right person, your person, it didn’t matter what your status was—married, dating, or just hooking up—your life wasn’t your own and you didn’t want it to be.

  I’d planned on talking to Josie today about us, but if giving her a compliment was in bad taste, then having a talk about “us” was completely out of the question. She had enough going on without me adding to it by asking whether or not she could see us having a future. How she felt about me was the last thing she needed to worry about.

  Still, as her phone dinged for the hundred and first time, I couldn’t help but reach across the console and squeeze her knee. I just needed to touch her, to let her know that I was here for her. I’d told her, several times, but I could see that she’d withdrawn. Not that I could blame her.

  I pulled up to a stop sign and glanced over as she sighed and put her phone down on her lap. I was trying to think of something, anything to say to make things better when her eyes widened, and she pointed out the windshield.

  “Look!” she exclaimed.

  When I returned my attention to the road in front of us, I blinked twice. It took my brain a moment to process the information that my eyes were sending to my brain. Right smack in the middle of the road was a Great Dane and Chihuahua strolling down the main street like they didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Do you think they’re okay?” she asked as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “Should we go see if they have tags?”

  I was about to pull the car to the side when the two made their way up on the wooden sidewalk lined with mom and pop shops. The Great Dane walked right up to the window of an ice cream shop, complete with a red and white striped awning. The window opened and a woman handed out a scoop of ice cream in a bowl which the Great Dane dropped on the floor for his vertically challenged partner in crime. When he lifted his head again, the woman handed him an ice cream cone which he ate in two bites.

  Beside me Josie lifted her phone and snapped pics. I was glad she was getting photographic evidence, because I doubted anyone would believe this. After finishing their frozen treats, the two walked back onto the road and continued on without a care in the world.

  We both looked at one another in silence for a moment before we burst out laughing. Hearing the sweet sound of her laughter and seeing her wide, infectious smile soothed the sharp edges of anxiety and tension that I’d had since speaking to her grandmother the night before.

  Mrs. Myers had talked about being responsible for your own happiness. But sometime, somehow in the past week Josie’s happiness had eclipsed my own. It wasn’t all about me.

  My happiness now directly correlated to Josie’s. It was as if my soul was tied to hers. Her anxiety was my anxiety. And her happiness was my happiness. I’d never felt so in sync, so in tune to another person in my life.

  I was still basking in the warmth of her joy when we pulled int
o Mountain Ridge Resort, where we were scheduled to interview Kyle. I was surprised when I saw that the parking lot was filled with press vans. There were at least a dozen stations represented.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, I could hear the alarm in her voice.

  Questions zoomed around my mind. Were they here for her? How would anyone know that she was going to be here? Had someone told them? It had to be someone on the What is Love? team. Who would do that?

  But all of those questions were answered when I noticed the posters for Kyle’s upcoming blockbuster Red Car Warning and yellow signs indicating where press should go.

  “He’s doing a junket.”

  “Oh.” She slumped back against her seat and I knew I wasn’t the only one that had thought the press might be here for her.

  Just because the press wasn’t specifically here for her, didn’t mean that they wouldn’t approach her. I wasn’t sure how I would handle it if anyone shoved a camera in her face. I truly wasn’t a violent man, but the thought of anyone hurting Josie or making her uncomfortable brought out every caveman impulse in me. “We can push this until tomorrow.”

  “No. I can do this.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Her lips pursed as she nodded. “Yeah.”

  That made one of us.

  Chapter 28

  Josie

  “The greatest teacher in life is adversity, darling, so I suggest you become a fast learner.”

  ~ Josephine Grace Clarke

  For years I’d had a recurring nightmare. In the dream, I was walking down a hallway and someone was behind me. Panic would build in me and I’d look over my shoulder, but no one would be there. It didn’t matter what I saw, though. I could feel them.

  I’d start walking faster, sensing them closing in on me. I’d start running, and I’d feel their breath on my neck. In all the time I’d been having the dream, I’d never seen who it was. I just knew that someone was there. I would always wake up before they caught me, then I’d lay in bed, hyperventilating, telling myself it was just a dream.