“Better than good,” I told her, holding the book to my heart as my eyes watered over. “It’s one of those stories that just makes you want to yell and scream all at once.” It was the kind of book that made your chest ache, and even though you want to put it down to take a breath, you’d rather flip the page to know more than worry about such a small thing like breathing.
Jackson was right; I did love the story.
“I saw Jackson leave it back there on the table for you,” she mentioned as she rang me up. “Are you two friends?”
“No,” I answered quickly. “But we aren’t enemies either.”
She signed, “He’s a good man.”
She was the first person I’d ever heard say such a thing about Jackson Emery.
“He’s broken,” she continued, “but good.”
The idea that broken things could still be good was a thought that would stay with me for a while.
“I’m starting to see that in him—the goodness,” I told her.
“His mother was in the same car accident with my husband the night of that huge thunderstorm. Did you know that?”
“Oh my gosh, no…I had no clue.”
“Yeah. He was just a boy when he lost his mother. He adored her, and she adored him. After she passed away, I think a big part of him died, too, which is sad. I watched him go from this quiet boy in town to this bad seed. He loved her more than anything and losing someone that close to you is enough to make a person’s mind go dark. So him coming here to this bookshop means a lot for me. Even though he doesn’t speak my way or let me close, it’s almost as if I can watch over him. I’m sure that’s what his mother would’ve wanted. It’s what I would’ve wanted for Josie if I ever passed away. Someone to look after my loved one.”
“You’re a good woman, Betty.”
She smiled. “And he’s a good man.”
“Is it okay if I leave a book in his corner for him to find tomorrow?” I asked her.
“Of course, honey. I won’t move it.”
Walking back into the bookshop, I went in search of a novel to leave for Jackson. I thought back to books I’d read, and which ones made my heart race, wondering which one might do the same for Jackson.
My fingers landed on Long Way Down by Jason Reynold.
It had been a stay-up-all-night novel for me.
I grabbed it and a Post-it note and wrote:
It’s written in verse,
and you’ll feel each word within it.
-Princess
We kept it up, too, exchanging notes with different books. It was good to escape my current reality into the world of novels. Plus, Jackson had great taste in books, which made it easier to fall into every single word. Each time I found a Post-it note, I felt as if I was walking into a new adventure. Even though the words we exchanged were only on small pieces of paper, I felt as if I was learning more about the hard man who didn’t let people in.
I was finally zooming in on the town’s black sheep, and he was zooming right back in on me.
* * *
This one will hurt you.
Let it.
-Oscar
* * *
This one will heal you.
Let it.
-Princess
* * *
This heroine reminds me of you.
She cries on every page.
-Oscar
* * *
This hero’s a total jerk.
Are you related to him?
-Princess
* * *
The last book you gave me was
fucking sad. Is the town’s good girl
really that dark inside?
I loved it. Now, read this one, which is even darker.
-Oscar
* * *
You always give me books that make me cry.
-Princess
* * *
I’ve learned it’s not too hard to bring you to tears.
-Oscar
* * *
Wow. Wow. Wow.
Five-star read.
More like this, please?
-Princess
* * *
Saw you at the bakery today. Your eyes looked sad.
Here’s a book you can’t help but laugh at.
-Oscar
He’d noticed me in town when I hadn’t even seen him. It made me think of all the times I saw him walking around town with Tucker in his arms, or just exploring when he didn’t know I’d seen him.
How many times had we stealthily noticed one another?
I started reading the novel he’d left me, and he was right—I couldn’t stop giggling. I was shushed a few times by others in the bookshop for my laughter being too loud, but I couldn’t help it. Sometimes, the best thing for a sad heart is a book that makes you laugh.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to get through the next few chapters without breaking into a giggling fest, so I stood to go back to Judy’s to read in my bedroom where I wouldn’t bother anyone.
As I walked through the space, I thought about the characters in the novel and kept giggling to myself. Then I passed Jackson’s corner, and he looked up at me.
I gave him half of a grin and held the book to my chest. “Thank you,” I mouthed.
He gave me the other half of my smile and nodded once before looking back down at his book. A half smile from Jackson Emery felt like so much more than the average person’s full-blown grin.
24
Jackson
Grace went against everything I’d been taught to believe about her. She was kind, gentle, and funny, the complete opposite of the snobby, rude, inconsiderate woman I had believed her to be.
That was hard for me to accept.
When you are taught to hate a stranger your whole life, it’s humbling to realize you wasted energy hating something that wasn’t even real.
Gracelyn Mae Harris was on a path of discovering who she was while I was on a path of erasing my judgmental thoughts about who I thought she was.
As she was learning about herself, I was learning about her, too.
She was weird, and spunky, and broken, yet somehow whole. I’d never come across a person who was so broken yet still whole.
The truth of the matter was that I liked her.
That was weird, too—for me to like a person. I didn’t know what that meant, mainly because I didn’t understand my messed-up feelings.
On the following days, I tried my best to shake off my thoughts of her. If I’d learned anything about feelings, it was that they made no sense whatsoever. So I kept busy in the shop. When my head was inside a car engine and music was blasting through my headphones, I was able to tune out the world around me.
I was able to get her eyes out of my mind for a small moment in time.
When I heard the bell above the front door ding, I took out my headphones and looked up at the front of the shop. A man in a suit stood there with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Tucker walked toward him, wagging his tail as he always did, to greet the stranger.
The guy pushed Tucker to the side with his leg and told him to go away.
My body tensed.
The dude was already on my bad side.
I walked over to him and cocked an eyebrow. “We’re closed.”
“What? Your sign says open,” he commented.
“Yeah. Then you shoved my dog. So, we’re closed. You can fuck off and take your car elsewhere.”
“I’m not here for my car. I’m here to talk about Grace,” he told me. “I’m her husband, Finn.”
“I don’t care,” I replied dryly.
“What?”
“I don’t care who you are. You pushed my dog, so you can still piss off.”
“Dude, that dog is hanging on by a thread. I probably did it a favor.”
“Are you trying to die today, or are you just fucking stupid? Leave.”
He didn’t.
“I need you to stay away from Grace,” he ordered me.
“I’m
tired of people coming into my shop and telling me what to do.”
Finn looked like the type of asshole Grace would’ve married. He stood as if he came from money, wearing a suit that probably cost more than my whole wardrobe. If that princess were to ever fall for a man, it would be that knight in shining armor. He and I were different in almost every single way.
I couldn’t help but wonder how she found her way to me.
“Listen,” he started, “she and I are on the course of figuring things out between us.”
“You fucked her best friend. I think that case is closed.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t act like you understand the whole story when you only know a few chapters.”
“I don’t care about the story, and I don’t care about you.”
“You’re messing with her head, man. Her family is worried about her—I’m worried about her. She’s not acting like herself.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing.”
“It’s not,” he snapped. Obviously, my comment got under his skin. “She’s not herself. She would never fall for a guy like you.”
“A guy like me?”
“You know…” His words faded away, and he shrugged. “You’re just not her type.”
“She must be more into cheating assholes.”
“Don’t act like you know me or my wife. We’ve been through more than you know. So, do me a favor and stay away from her.”
“No.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“She’s a grown woman. She can make her own choices. Now, get out of my shop before you’re unable to leave on your own.”
He let out a low whistle. “Quite a temper you’ve got there. Okay, I’m going. But if you’re smart, you’ll keep your distance from Grace.”
“I’ve never been known to be a smart man,” I sneered.
He nodded and turned to walk away. Before leaving, he glanced over at Tucker. “You should seriously think about putting that thing down. It’s a bit inhumane to keep him alive like that.”
He flung the door open and left, but not before his words hit me hard in my soul.
I walked over to Tucker, who was back in his dog bed, and I pet his head. “You’re a good boy, Tuck,” I told him, rubbing right behind his ear. My voice cracked, and I studied his tired self.
You’re a good boy.
* * *
After I finished up at the shop, I headed over to Dad’s house to check in on him. He’d been pretty quiet over the past few days, which normally meant he was drunk, or…well, drunk. When I walked into his house, he was sitting on the couch, eating a TV dinner with a beer can in his grip. The only thing he ever watched was the news because he liked to remind himself exactly how much the world sucked.
He heard my footsteps, but he didn’t turn to greet me. He never did, really. We didn’t have the type of father-son relationship where we truly talked. We mostly just grumbled in each other’s general direction and complained about the other being a pain in the ass.
“That shit is still in my shop,” he sneered, stuffing a forkful of food into his mouth before chasing it down with the beer. “It’s been weeks now, and that bitch’s car is still in my shop.”
I cringed. “Don’t call her a bitch.”
He glanced over at me and gave me his narrowed stare. His thick gray eyebrows lowered, and he let out a sound like a growl. “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do? Don’t forget whose house this is, boy.”
He loved to use that line about the house—and about the shop, and about the cabin next to the shop. He loved feeling as if he was the power behind everything we had. What he never seemed to notice was who paid the bills, who showed up to work, who cleaned the house. He hardly did anything with his time except drink and watch the news.
My father wasn’t a person. He was the walking dead.
“I’m not gonna tell you again—get that car out of the shop,” he ordered, but his words meant nothing to me. He didn’t have the focus or the work ethic to actually have the car removed himself. Therefore, it would be fine.
He was all bark, no bite, just a bitter old man with a heart that no longer beat.
I had my mom to thank for that one.
“Don’t you know what those people have done to this family, Jackson?” he asked me. “How they never once helped us? They put us through hell.”
“Yeah, I know.” But did he? Did he know how Grace had pulled him halfway across town to get him out of harm’s way? Did he know how she’d showered him, cleaned his place, and sat with him just to make sure he didn’t choke on his vomit?
Did he see her blue eyes when she cried, her shaking when she was afraid?
Did he not see how she was more than just a Harris? How she, too, had had things done to her? That she, too, had been through her own hell?
I blinked my eyes shut.
There she was again, filling my mind.
Why couldn’t I stop thinking of her?
Shake it off, Jackson.
I walked over to his refrigerator and opened it, seeing all the food I’d bought was already gone. “You’re supposed to tell me when the food’s low,” I told him.
“I ain’t gotta tell you shit,” he replied, flipping me off. I flipped him off right back.
Like father, like son.
“Is it true?” he asked.
“Is what true?”
“The rumors about you fucking that girl?”
Every inch of my body tensed. “What did you just say?”
“Is it true that you’re fucking a Harris?”
I didn’t reply because he didn’t deserve a reply. It was none of his business what or who I was doing.
He stood and slowly approached me. “You stay away from that family.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I growled, my anger building.
“No, I absolutely will tell you want to do! You are my son, and you live on my property. You will do as I say. You stay away from that girl,” he barked, shoving my chest.
I allowed it the first time.
“Dad, keep your hands off me,” I warned.
He shoved me again. “What are you gonna do? Huh? You gonna hit your old man? You gonna fight back?!” he snapped, slamming into me again. I took a deep breath as my hands formed fists. “Fight me, Jackson!” he hollered. “Fight!”
Still, I wouldn’t lay a hand on him. Not once had I ever laid a hand on my father; no matter how many times he had put his on me. If I did, I would be just as bad as him.
“You’re drunk,” I told him.
“You like that girl, don’t you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at me.
“What?”
“Well, shit,” he huffed, stunned. “You fell for a Harris? I shouldn’t be surprised because you’re weak. You’re a piece of shit, and you’re fucking weak,” he hissed. “I shouldn’t even be shocked that you’re screwing a Harris,” he barked. “You’re a no-good lowlife.”
“Shut up,” I warned.
“You’re a dumbass for thinking she’d ever truly want you.”
“Stop talking,” I told him, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
“She’s never going to choose you, Jackson. People who live in the heavens never fall for the ones in the slums. You think she’d actually fall for a monster?”
“Go away.”
“No. You think she’d ever want something like you? A lowlife? Scum? A monster?”
“I’m not a monster.”
“You are,” he said, nodding. “I guess you get that from your old man.”
“I’m nothing like you.”
“No—you’re even worse.” He took a deep breath. “I treat people like shit ’cause I’m a fucking drunk. What’s your excuse?”
He began to stalk off toward his bedroom, and I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths.
“Stay away from that Harris girl. I mean it.”
I inhaled deeply and snapped the band on my wrist. My mind was spinning as I tried t
o wash my thoughts away. He was the worst one for me, the only person who was truly able to get under my skin and make me doubt every choice I’d ever made.
I want to use…
My heart was racing fast, and my vision began to blur as I paced back and forth.
I want to use…
I snapped my bracelet.
Powerful moments, Jackson. Stay strong.
My father was my worst nightmare, and I hated that when I stared into his eyes, I saw my own reflection staring back at me.
I want to use…
“Fuck!” I barked, raking my hands through my hair as I sat down on my father’s couch. My foot tapped rapidly against the hardwood floor, and I pulled out my cell phone. I began scrolling through my old contacts, the people who were so good at supplying me with everything I needed to keep me high and fucked up.
That was all he thought I could be. Maybe that was all I ever would be…
I want to use…
I dialed the number. I listened to it ring, and when the voice answered, I swallowed hard.
“Hello?”
I sighed. “Hey,” I whispered, feeling a knot in my stomach. “I need you.”
25
Grace
Jackson’s voice sounded so broken over the phone, and it only took seconds for me to slide on my shoes.
When I made it to his house, he didn’t say a word. He pressed his lips hard against mine, kissing me deep, kissing me long, kissing me as though he hadn’t yet kissed me before.
He pulled my shirt over my head, and with one snap of his fingers, he had my bra unhooked. Our bodies tangled together, and as he moved on top of me and slid in, I almost cried out from the way he took over my body. Each thrust felt like a broken part of his soul intermixing with mine. He was low that afternoon, yet I welcomed the feeling. The truth was, it wasn’t a good day for me either. I needed him to roll inside me, needed it hard, fast, rough, painful…
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