by Penny Reid
My stomach swirled, protesting the three beers and no food. Or maybe it protested his advice, especially when he added, “Now, that’s assuming she feels the same for you. That’s assuming she wants to make room in her life for you. If she doesn’t, well, then it’s better to know sooner rather than later.”
I turned, walking toward the kitchen table and grabbing the tall back of my seat, the chair I always sat in when I was a child. There were six chairs at this table, but there were only four of us.
Admitting a vulnerability to someone you love and who loves you in return usually brings you closer, it doesn’t push you apart.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah, go for it.” My father picked up the towel I’d left on the counter and dried his hands, then turned back to the sink to wipe the rim.
I studied his back for a moment. My father was taller than me. I’d never grown to his height.
“Why do you wish you had more kids?”
Once more, his movements stilled. He turned around and faced me. “Pardon me?”
“You’ve said it a couple times. More and more recently. You said it in June when we were at Daisy’s for breakfast.”
“So I did.” His stare grew hawkish. “And I can see it’s not what you’re thinking.”
“What am I thinking?”
“Based on the look on your face, we both know what you’re thinking.” My father, watching me very carefully, set the towel aside and crossed to the kitchen table, standing behind his chair which sat at the head of it. “Jackson, do you think I wanted to have more children because I think you and Jess aren’t enough?”
I shrugged, spurred on by the beers. I should never drink. It turns me into an asshole.
He looked pained by my nonresponse. “That is not the case, son. W-we should h-have had more children f-for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes. You and Jess. What’s going to happen to you and your sister when we’re gone? When your mom and I pass away? I’m much less worried about Jess. We always knew she was going to leave and you were going to stay. Not because you don’t have a big imagination and big dreams, but because your dreams are different.”
I stared at my father, and for the first time in my life, I noticed he was old. His hair was grayer than blond, his forehead lined with wrinkles, and he didn’t seem as tall and imposing as he once was. My father is old.
“And so, to the point.” He scratched his cheek, his eyebrows lifting. “I’ve always wished that we’d given you another brother, another sister. So you wouldn’t be alone. Also, because kids are great. I wish we could have had more, especially if they turned out like you and Jess.”
I had to swallow several times before I could manage to say, “This was not the answer I was expecting.”
“I reckon so, you look surprised.” He seemed amused by the look on my face. But he wasn’t quite finished with his explanation. “Now that Jess is married to Duane, she has Liam, and the Winstons are a big family. I know she’ll be supported and taken care of. But, like I said, I don’t like the idea of you being alone when your mom and I go. You need community, you need people. Sure, you need someone to take care of you, but I suspect—more than that—you need someone to take care of. And that’s part of the reason I think you’ll make a great sheriff. You’ll have lots of folks to take care of.”
Emotion clogged my throat and instinct had me pushing out a weak joke. “You planning on dying soon?”
“No, no.” He leaned forward, his forearms resting on the back of the chair. “But look at my sister. She died of an unexpected heart attack. Tina’s mostly by herself now. Sure, we invite your cousin over for dinner, but she doesn’t come. She doesn’t have people anymore. We try to be there for her. But watching her is like watching a lost baby bird.” He paused, sighed, then added, “I don’t want that for you.”
“I’m not a baby bird.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“I know that’s not what you’re saying. But you don’t have to worry about any of this. You’re going to be here for a while.” If I said it multiple times, I felt like I could trust it more.
“Am I? We can’t know that. Look at what happened to Bethany Winston. She gets a cancer diagnosis and six weeks later she’s gone, leaving all those kids without a mother.”
“Dad. All the Winstons were grown when she died.”
“But they’re still orphans. When you lose your parents, no matter how old you are, you’re an orphan. I know something about that. And I don’t want you being on your own when it happens,” he said, straightening from his chair and walking over to me.
“If you feel like you need to follow Rae to LA, if you think that’s where you need to be, where you can do the most good, then you have my blessing. But think about what I said.” Hesitating for just a split second, he set his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze, his palm warm and steady. “As your grandfather used to say, ‘Seeds sown in dread never bloom because fear makes for shallow soil.’”
Chapter 28
*Raquel*
“If you haven’t cried, your eyes can’t be beautiful.”
Sophia Loren
I didn’t call Jackson on Sunday.
If I didn’t call him, if we didn’t speak, then we were still technically together, and he couldn’t break up with me. Also, I didn’t want to make an idiot of myself and beg him to give me another chance. But let’s be honest here, regardless of when it happened or how dry my eyes were at that moment, I was going to burst into tears and beg him to give me another chance.
“Are you okay?” Dave asked, holding very still at the entrance to my room, his tone cautious. “Will you eat? I think you should eat. Don’t throw anything.”
I pressed my face against my pillow and said, “Erm sseriefer dungth at.”
“What?”
Fine. I’ll lift my head.
“I’m sorry for doing that. It was highly unprofessional, and I was completely in the wrong. Please accept my apology, and I understand if you feel you need to seek alternate employment. I will be happy to offer a severance and assist you—”
“Oh, stop it. It was two throw pillows. They’re literally called throw pillows. I mean, come on. Sheesh.” In my peripheral vision, I saw Dave stroll into the room. He held a mug and a plate. “And I might’ve been a little bit of an asshole, so . . . truce?”
Flipping onto my side, I stared at him. “Are you kidding? A little bit of an asshole? You were a GIANT asshole.”
He shrugged, taking another step inside the bedroom and sitting on the end of my bed. “Yeah. I guess I was. But somebody needed to say something.”
“‘Don’t fuck this up, Rae. Whatever happened, I’m on Jackson’s side.’” Sitting up in my bed, I deepened my voice to quote Dave’s asshole statements from yesterday—when I’d woken up to find Jackson gone without a word and Miguel and Dave giving me dirty looks over coffee.
So, yes, I’d yelled at Dave. And then Dave had yelled at me. And we both made big hand movements and crude gestures. And then we’d yelled at each other, and I threw pillows at his head and slammed my door, and now here we were, Monday morning, and I couldn’t seem to move. I’d spent all day Sunday in bed, hiding from the world, convinced that the moment I turned on my phone, I’d get a breakup text from Jackson.
Except, he wouldn’t break up with me that way. Jackson—being Jackson—would show up in person, and probably bring roses and coffee. He would sit me down and be all gentle and kind about it, staying with me until he was certain I’d be okay. He’d probably also give me a pep talk, a motivational speech about how great of a person I was and how he’d keep me in his prayers. Then he would check the oil and tire pressure of my loaner car as he left.
He was the best. God, I love him. PLEASE DON’T LET HIM BREAK UP WITH ME!
Dave lifted the plate he held toward me. It contained grapes and carrots when all I really wanted was cake. A whole chocolate cake. A big, giant, d
ouble chocolate frosting laden chocolate cake with a giant glass of cold whole milk. No fork. I just wanted to shove my face in it and become one with the cake.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the plate from Dave. It wasn’t cake, but he was right. I needed to eat something.
“Are you ready to talk about what happened?” he asked, quickly following it with, “I promise, I won’t judge. I’ll just listen.”
I popped a grape in my mouth, not tasting it as I chewed. “I messed up,” I said simply.
I had messed up. I wasn’t sure what I’d said that had made Jackson so angry and distant, that had made him sleep on top of the covers Saturday night instead of beneath, that had made him careful not to touch me as we lay together, both of us not sleeping or talking, but I must’ve said something.
I’d fallen asleep just before dawn. When I awoke, he was gone, and I felt certain he hadn’t kissed me goodbye. If we get through this, I’m going to institute a rule: he has to kiss me goodbye.
“What did you do? How’d you mess up?” Dave handed me the mug.
It resembled the freshly juiced concoction of greens that my chef back in LA made me for breakfast—celery, cucumber, spinach, parsley, and ginger—and suddenly I was glad my taste buds weren’t working.
“I’m not sure, to be honest. But I know I messed up.” I took a gulp because I knew it was good for me even though I’d never particularly liked it.
“Okay, take me through what happened.” Dave turned and placed a leg on the bed, bent at the knee in front of him. “Harrison left, Sienna came over to get something out of the closet while Miguel and I finished up helping Jethro—he was making raspberry jam, I brought some over—and then we walked back to the house. The next thing I know, Jackson is leaving your room looking like his world has ended.”
My heart twisted. “What do you mean? You saw him? Did he say anything?”
“He said hello like always, asked how our evening had been—’cause he’s the fucking politeness police—and then told us he was going on a short walk and would be back. But he asked us to lock the front door and turn on the alarm.”
“And then what happened?” I was on the edge of my seat.
Dave scratched the back of his neck. “I stayed up and let him back in about an hour later. He woke me up before the sun, apologizing if you can believe it, asking me to lock the door and turn on the alarm after him. And that’s it, that’s all I know.”
I slouched. “He didn’t say anything else?”
“No. So what happened? What’d you two fight about? And what can I do to help?”
Staring at him, I made a decision. I needed to talk to someone. And yes, Dave worked for me. He was my employee. But—dammit—I needed advice. Also, he’d signed an NDA.
“Okay, first I have to tell you some background. Hold on a second.” I set the plate of food aside and gulped down the juice, wanting to get something in my stomach but not wanting to chew. I was too sad to chew. Unless it was cake.
I then told Dave about Harrison’s visit, what we’d decided, how he’d lobby for Lina to take the role in Midnight Lady—which was fine, whatever, I hated the new script—and how she would basically replace me in Harrison’s life.
“That’s . . . weird.” His features were twisted with distaste.
“It is what it is. No one in Hollywood is irreplaceable. Except maybe Sienna.”
“Nah, that’s not it. You’re not replaceable in Hollywood, but being Harrison’s sidekick does seem to be a revolving door of stand-ins. Which, if you ask me, just means it’s not where you belong. If you can be replaced so easily in a person’s life, then you probably don’t need to be a part of that person’s life.”
I nodded, biting the inside of my lip, his words making me feel better about the situation.
“So then what happened? Jackson came over?”
“No. Then I took a shower, and that’s when Sienna came over.” Even though it was embarrassing, I explained what had happened with Sienna, how I’d thought she was an intruder, how I’d freaked out and convinced myself I was going to be murdered violently.
At this point, Dave let loose a string of curses and skootched next to me on the bed, wrapping me in a big hug. “I don’t care if this violates one of your employee-boss rules, but I’m giving you a hug.”
“Okay. I accept.” I laughed, returning his embrace. I decided then and there that I needed more hugs from more people. My life had been distinctly lacking in hugs. It would be all hugs, all the time from now on.
“Aww. You two are cute.” Sienna, standing in the doorway with her hands clasped under her chin, grinned at us. “I remember Dave hugs. Those were the days.”
We separated from our hug, Dave settling back next to me against the headboard. He then promptly stole a grape from my plate. “You can get some whenever you want, sweetheart. But as much as I like Jethro, he also scares me, so maybe check with him first.”
Sienna laughed, drifting into the room and taking the spot at the end of the bed that Dave had vacated a moment ago. “I will check with him, but I’m sure it will be fine. And then it’ll be hug time.” She winked at her former bodyguard.
I frowned at the two of them. “Why would you check with Jethro before hugging Dave? Why can’t you just hug Dave?”
Dave sent Sienna a look I couldn’t decipher, which she mimicked, and then they both looked at me.
“Dave used to dip me when we hugged,” Sienna said, crossing her legs. “Like I said, I’m sure it’s fine. But it’s very—I don’t know—flirty? It’s a respect thing.”
“You don’t feel like it’s controlling? Needing to check in with Jethro?” I crossed my arms. “You should be able to hug whoever you want.”
“I can hug whoever I want, and I do.” Sienna sent Dave another look. “But I wouldn’t want Jethro hugging someone that way without explaining it to me first, giving me the backstory. It’s not controlling to take your partner’s feelings into account, to listen to them and give them a chance to voice concerns before making your own decisions.”
The tempo of my heart increased as she spoke, my mouth went dry, and—after spending the last eighteen hours wondering what I’d said that had angered Jackson so much—it all finally clicked.
“Oh my God. I’m such an idiot.” I covered my face with my hands.
I felt Dave’s tentative palm on my back, giving me a clumsy pat. “What? What happened?”
Letting my hands drop, I finished the story of Saturday, telling Sienna and Dave what I’d said to Jackson about making my own decisions and being responsible for myself.
“You didn’t!” Dave reared back, his eyes wide. “You did not say that. Shut up! Not after he walks in on you crying on the floor of the bathroom.”
Sienna placed a hand on my leg, her gaze sympathetic. “I understand what you meant—and he should’ve been more patient with you, especially after what had just happened—but you have to see how it probably sounded to him.”
Dave wasn’t finished. “You know he must see all kinds of stuff in his job, bad shit. And he’s thinking the worst, and then he’s panicking about your safety, and then you tell him he has no say in your life? That kind of thing will make a dude crazy. It’s like, hardwired or something in our brains. Me Jackson. You Rae. Must protect.”
I groaned. “This is all so messy. I don’t understand this. Aren’t we all responsible for ourselves? Aren’t my decisions my own?” This is what my mother had always told me.
“Yes, of course. But also, no. Not when you’re in a committed relationship, no.” Sienna shook her head. “For the record, I want to point out again that you’d just experienced something deeply distressing. He should have been more patient with you. And he shouldn’t have told you to go back to LA, that was thoughtless of him. That said, moving forward, if you want a say in Jackson’s life, then you have to give him a say in yours.”
“I don’t want to control him! I want him to be happy.”
“But let’s say he
decided to quit his job and become a no-parachute skydive instructor,” Dave said, stealing a few more grapes.
“Of course I wouldn’t be okay with that because that would be suicide.” I sent Dave a flat look. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Fine. What if he got into snake handling?” Dave took the plate and set it on his lap, giving up all pretense of sharing the plate with me. “I hear it can be a hell of a rush. Or what if he took up motorcycle racing with no helmet? Or what if—”
“Okay, okay. I get your point.” I lifted my hands, my chest and neck hot for some reason. “When it comes to his safety, I guess I would want my opinion to be considered.” I peeked at Sienna, then Dave. “Do you think this is why he’s so mad? Because of what I said?”
Dave exhaled through his nose, his eyes unfocused as he considered my question. “You know, he didn’t seem mad. He seemed . . .”
“Hurt,” Sienna supplied, her expression still laden with sympathy. “I bet he was hurt.”
UGH! That made me feel worse. “I need to apologize.” I picked up my phone from where I’d placed it on the nightstand, navigating to the settings so I could switch off airplane mode.
“Rae.” Sienna squeezed my leg, drawing my attention back to her. “Before you call him, why don’t you and I go out, get some fresh air? You’ve been buried in here for over twenty-four hours.”
I gestured to the phone. “But I—”
“Then you can think through what you want to say.” Sienna sent Dave a look, tilting her head toward the door.
“Okay, that’s my cue to leave. I’ll just. . . “ He rolled off the bed, taking the plate with him. “Let me get you some more carrots,” he said, leaving the room and shutting the door.
Sienna studied me for a moment, a gentle smile on her lips. “Look, I know you’re sorry. But I also know that you were overextended then and you’re feeling overwhelmed now. Saturday night, you met Jackson’s family and had spent the whole day tying yourself in knots with worry. And then Harrison shows up.” She paused, frowning. “I’m assuming you already know, or that he talked to you about it when he was here, but pictures of Harrison and Lina are everywhere. The story of their ‘romance’ broke yesterday.”