8. Chapter Eight - Jackson
Jackson
My mood today is so bad even the breakfast with Lexie couldn’t save it. Well, not for longer than being in her presence.
I spent the night tossing and turning, running through my conversation with Adam in my thoughts over and over again, second guessing every word, every sigh from him, wondering if he hates me, if we can ever going back to actually being brothers instead of two men who got way too much responsibility from a way too young age and grew to resent each other.
A vicious circle just like every other night, my thoughts only stop their racing once I step into Bake and Books.
I don’t know what it is. There is just something about the scent of fresh coffee and warm butter or the shops atmosphere—maybe the combination of books and pastries that manages to calm me down.
Or it’s Lexie.
The way her sad eyes start to glimmer with excitement when I first bite into one of the pastries she created, the way her soft voice echoes in my mind…
That’s new. All of it is so new to me.
Maybe it’s White Knight, or in this case, Princess Syndrome from when she calmed me down in the middle of my panic attack, but I feel drawn to her. I could spend days at Bake and Books, only to watch her and that beautiful smile on her lips.
I only left when the first customers started streaming in. Being found there by a mob of fans wouldn't be helpful for either of us.
But I can't stop thinking about it—the emotions shining through her eyes this morning. From sadness that she later revealed had to do with her ex turning up yet again, to a spark of the carefreeness I saw in her eyes before the whole debacle as we shared pastries.
There are so many sides to her that I don’t know yet, but damnit, I want to. I want to see it all, the anger, the joy, the sadness.
My lips curl into the tiniest smile as I remember her tearing into her ex. She reminded me of a chihuahua. Small, but mighty, a creature you don’t dare get close to because you know very well they will bite your calf and fuck you up any way they can, despite the small size of their body.
And she had that exact same wild look in her eyes. It was kind of hot, to be honest.
"What are you daydreaming about?" Elena suddenly appears next to me and leans her back against the trailer, leaning forward to look at me with wide, curious eyes.
"The usual," I say with a shrug and quickly school my face as we start walking towards the studio.
"Ah, the bakery girl," Elena says and wiggles her eyebrows at me.
“How do you even remember her?” I ask curiously. “I mentioned her once in passing.”
“I’m good like that.” She shrugs, then rolls her tense shoulders as someone opens the studio door for us. “You always have that look when you think about her.”
“Well, in this case, I’m thinking about the pastries I had for breakfast.” I try to weasel my way out of the conversation, but she takes my arm and stops me from walking off.
"You know it's fine to have a crush, right?" she says, narrowing her eyes at me and linking her arm with mine as she continues walking. "It's sweet."
"I don't have a crush," I point out and shake my head, but it only makes her chuckle. “What are we, twelve?”
“You can have a crush at any age. My granny had a crush on her neighbor. It was sweet.”
"It is. But we’re just friends. No crush here."
"Sure," she says with an eyeroll and playfully pokes my cheek. "Of course you are. That's why you have that dreamy look on your face."
"I do not have a dreamy look on my face," I object, but the way she looks at me pointedly makes me sigh. "Well, maybe I do, but we're still just friends. She's only just gotten out of a long-term relationship."
“How long-term are we talking?”
“Long enough to put a ring on her finger,” I say, the air leaving my lungs as she comes to a sudden halt and pulls me to an abrupt stand. "What the hell?”
“Why did it end?” She narrows her eyes at me. “You two weren’t cheating, were you?”
“Of course not.” I rub the spot where she pulled me to a stand. “Quite the opposite. Turns out her ex cheated on her for the past few years."
"Oh, that's rough," she replies with a small nod, then resumes walking, but I pull my arm from her grasp. "That poor thing."
"So, yes, we're just friends," I remind her, shaking my head.
"That doesn't mean you can't be crushing on her," she points out. "You like her."
"I do," I finally admit. And it's not a lie. I do like Lexie—her kind smile, her really fucking delicious pastries, the little crinkle that appears between her eyes when she's worried. Hell, even the way she turns bright red when she's angry.
But she's off limits. Because I see the way she looks every time her ex stops by. There might be anger, but there is also such a monumental sadness in her.
She’s not over him. Maybe she will never get over him cheating on her.
I haven’t dated much and don’t have the first hand experience, but I’ve seen what being cheated on does to people. Be it my friend circle in university or high school drama among Zoey’s friends—I’ve seen the effects. It destroyed their self esteem and took them a long time to get ahead of their resulting self-esteem issues.
And I’m not going to throw another wedge her way and insert myself any more than being a friend.
With a sigh, I look at Elena.
"I like her, but it's not happening. She has to heal. And so do I. Putting two broken things together ain't going to make them right."
"What tells you she's broken?" She lifts her eyebrow at me. "And excuse the question, but what about you is broken? Because it doesn’t seem like you’re trying to fix anything. And if you’re not, how broken can you really be?"
I come to a standstill, breath stuck in my throat. Fuck. Where did that come from?
"Maybe you're angry. That doesn’t mean you’re broken," she points out, linking her arm with mine again just as we’re arriving at the set.
But I pull my arm out of her grasp and take a step back, my thoughts running amok. She’s right. And she’s the first one to call me the fuck out on it. Holy shit.
"We gotta get into position," I say quickly and walk over to my spot, hearing her chuckling behind me.
She's so right, and she knows it, and now I have to pretend I haven’t just gotten my mind blown and ground pulled from right under me.
Rob struts in, and I groan inwardly while trying to put a pleasant expression on my face. I should get an Oscar just for that.
I'm really not up for another day of verbal lashing.
But then, from the corner of my eye, I see the door to the set open again, a familiar face sneaking in, and my eyes widen when I realize who it is.
Adam.
What the hell is he doing here?
Once he catches my gaze, he puts his finger to his lips, motioning for me to be stay quiet, and for a moment I’m six years old again. He used to sneak me ice cream when Dad was working late and Mom was putting Zoey to bed, doing the exact same thing so I wouldn’t tattle.
Immediately, I look away, gulping past the knot in my throat. If he's here, he has a plan, and that knowledge almost manages to make me cry. Finally one fucking thing that’s slipping off my plate.
"On your marks!" Rob shouts, and I look around. Everyone is already on their marks and ready to go.
"Now, let's do this. Prove to me you aren't all fucking losers," he mutters under his breath, but loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.
Just like that, the familiar game begins. We go through the scene three times. Four. Sixteen damned times, and each time he orders us to repeat, it’s with more insults. At one point, he even throws his script again, although this time it flutters apart before hitting anyone.
By take number twenty-one, Elena is close to tears yet again, and I’m close to tearing Rob’s head off. The day already started with anger, and holy hell, it's not letting up. Rob is pushing every button with a force that would make a wrecking ball look gentle.
"Go on your breaks!" Rob finally spits, and the whole room breathes a sigh of relief before quickly running off, nobody intent on staying in Rob’s way.
I shoot Adam another glance as I walk by, because I’m growing really fucking confused here.
Why the fuck would he come here and not interfere?
He's just standing frozen like a statue, hidden behind a camera, looking at the scene with a neutral face.
I brush past him, but I feel him fall into step with me and follow me to my trailer. Once inside, I lean my back against the table, crossing my arms in front of my chest and waiting silently for him to talk first.
“You’re looking dashing in that coat,” he says and nods at the chair it’s draped over once the door to my caravan clicks shut behind him.
“Why, thank you.” I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. “Are you only here to make fun of my costume?”
"No, I’m here because I thought you were overreacting," he finally says softly, "But holy hell, you're really not."
"So you came all the way here just to accuse me of lying?" I ask with my eyebrow raised to my hairline as I watch him take a seat on my couch and cross his arms in front of his chest. "What in the ever-loving fuck, Adam? What reason would I have to overreact about this?"
"I don't know." He shrugs and leans his shoulder against the doorway. "But you've been pissy these past few months, and I don't know why. So excuse me for being a bit skeptical. I came here to confirm, didn’t I?"
"Well, I didn't overreact," I say and sit down next to him, putting my feet on the little couch table. "So?”
“So what?" Adam asks, raising an eyebrow at me. "What am I supposed to do with this? You continuously act all pissy, and I'm supposed to jump when you want something from me?"
"Can we not have this discussion right now?" I ask him, raising my chin.
"I think we need to."
"Listen, Adam, for once it's not that deep. I'm running into trouble on set, I'm calling you. Not as my brother, but as owner of my management company. I'm happy to contact someone else in the future, just leave me their contact details."
When I look at him, I catch him in a grimace, only for a fraction of a second before he schools his face.
"Sorry. That was uncalled for. Thank you for coming. I'm not having the best day, and frankly, right now, you're not exactly helping to lift my mood."
"Well, it seems you're not having a good day ever," Adam points out and jumps up, starting to pace the trailer. "What are you going to do about it?"
I look at him, dumbfounded. He's really trying to rile me up, isn't he? "What am I supposed to do about it?" I snap. "It's not like I can decide to get up in the morning and say, 'Wow, I'm going to be in a good mood today.'"
"I mean, you could. Positive affirmations are supposed to help," Adam points out, and I glare at him.
"If you're only here to spew fake wisdom, don't. Not today. I’ve had enough of that already to last me a year." He looks at me quizzically, but I shake my head. No way I’m telling him about the enlightenment Elena bestowed upon me earlier today.
"I'm making you a deal," Adam says and gently kicks my legs off the table so he can sit back down on the couch beside me. "I'm going to take care of this. But you're contacting Dr. Decker again."
“My therapist?” I ask, my eyebrows wandering high up my forehead once more. “And why exactly would I do that?"
Adam bursts into booming laughter that rattles the whole couch.
"What's so funny about that?" I ask him, my patience wearing thinner.
"How is therapy going to help?" he asks, smirking. "Asks the child whose parents died when he was young and who's had major difficulties dealing with any sort of change ever since. Are you for real?"
"I am very much for real," I point out. "I've been to therapy. What's the second one going to do?"
"Well, for one, maybe it's going to help you talk through your feelings about me having a girlfriend," he points out. "You've been acting pissy even before Lily came into the picture. But damn, ever since I've gotten together with her, it seems you're on edge every single time I talk to you. And I hate that for you."
"Don't you mean you hate it for yourself?" I ask him with a challenging laugh. "She's your girlfriend, after all."
"Let me be very clear, Jackson." He turns his whole upper body and clasps my shoulder, pushing it so I'll do the same. "I hate to say it, but you are not my priority anymore. My priority is Lily."
"So that's it?" I ask him, a pained chuckle falling from my lips. "Just like that?"
"I'm not abandoning you." He rolls his eyes, then pinches the bridge of his nose. "Jackson, I know it hasn't been easy on you either, but I spent the better part of two decades raising you and your siblings."
"Our siblings," I correct him as Adam's apple moves with a gulp. “And while you’re putting yourself on that martyr pedestal, may I just remind you that I pulled half of that weight? You might have provided the funds, but the 'raising'-” I point at myself. "-let's be honest, you weren't very involved in that."
He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm not here to twist semantics. Listen, Jackson. I love you and Reed, Tanner and Zoey. You’re my family and I would do anything for you. But Lily is now part of that circle. And I hate to say it, but so far, she's the only one I know I can count on in return."
"What do you mean?" I ask, confusion dripping from my voice.
"It means you all have heaps of expectations on me," he says slowly, his eyes darting around the room as he chooses his words carefully. "And I'm exhausted. I can't keep giving—giving, giving—be it emotional availability, be it my time, or whatever else you guys need, and not get anything in return."
“Ah, right. Because all the time of my youth I spent raising Tanner, Reed and Zoey right alongside you is just that. ‘Nothing,’” I remind him with a bitter laugh. "You never asked for anything in return, I’m sorry I never realized this was a quid pro quo."
"And you've never asked me to take care of you. It was just a given." He pauses, his voice lower now. "It was just expected of me. And I'm not saying I regret it or expect retribution, but… I don't know. A birthday cake would have been nice."
“Just like you always got us?” I roll my eyes, knowing fully well that I was the one who went out to supermarkets for boxed cakes and whipped them together at two in the morning. He might have been the one to put money into our family’s bank account, but it’s not like every single thing was on his shoulders. "And like the time you spent with us on our birthdays?"
There is a brother who never got another birthday cake after mom died. And spoiler alert, it wasn't Adam. I made sure of that.
He clears his throat, and I lean back from him.
“So, do we have a deal?" he quickly changes the subject, pulling away from me and crossing his arms in front of his chest again. Now who's evading topics?
"Okay," I say softly, leaning back into the couch.
"Good," Adam says. "You’d rather me be discreet when I fire him, or make a scene?"
"Honestly?" I raise an eyebrow at him. It's a tentative peace agreement between us, a wordless pact to keep our grudges to ourselves, just for the time being, because both of us know it’s going to blow up in our faces in the future. “I think a scene would be fun, nay, deserved after the way he treated us."
"Okay, great." Adam checks his watch, then gets up from the couch. "His replacement is going to be here in like fifteen minutes. So go drink some water and eat one of those weird bread rolls over there. I'll see you at the studio in twenty minutes. Don’t be late or you’ll miss it. I'm not waiting for you."
"Roger," I say, shooting him a sad smile as he turns around and walks out.
Our conversation replays in my head as I watch him leave, an exhausted chuckle falling from my lips. That didn't go well at all. And by now, I'm not so sure I'm eager to find a solution to this clusterfuck.