57. Jackson
FIFTY-SEVEN
Jackson
It’s been four weeks of Friday dinners, and they each end the same way: with Chase grabbing two beers and sliding one to me, sitting down, and not speaking a word.
Tonight, I’m outside on the back deck. The sliding door opens behind me and a fresh beer appears. I grab it, watching as Chase rests his forearms on the railing and stares up at the sky.
“Do you ever look at the stars and feel small?” he asks.
My stomach jumps at his voice, surprised that he’s finally decided to talk. I lift my head, gazing up at them. “All the time.”
“Yeah, me too.” He chuckles, sipping from his bottle. “There’s only been a few other times in my life where I’ve felt that small.”
I swallow, unease molding to my cells.
“For instance, when my mom left my sister and me at a gas station and never showed back up. I felt small as fuck then.”
My gut sinks. It’s no secret that Chase is adopted—that his mom was a junkie who left him and his sister, Lily, when they were young, but I never knew the details. Chase isn’t really one to verbalize his issues.
I peer at him from my peripheral, wondering what else I don’t know about him, and then I snap out of it, reminding myself that I truly don’t give a fuck.
“The second time…was when my best friend dropped me without a second thought, not even waiting to hear my side of the story. Choosing to slide into my place as he tried to fuck my girl.”
My entire body freezes, the beer poised at my lips.
“I’ve been waiting for fucking weeks to see if you’d ever apologize. I thought maybe that you’d extend an olive branch. Thought that if everyone else had taken the time to let me back in, then maybe you would too. But here we are, with me being the one who has to do all the talking.” He points a finger at me. “You know I fucking hate talking.”
Disbelief rains down my spine, wrapping around my chest and squeezing. “Are you seriously standing there and trying to say that I’m the one who hurt you ?”
He nods. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. You were my best friend, Jax. My only friend, and instead of being ride or die, through thick and thin, you jumped ship.”
“You treated her like shit !” I yell, waving my arm toward inside. “You fucked another girl and posted about it on Facebook on the same night her mom died, and yet I’m the bad guy?”
He shakes his head. “You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“No?” I raise my brows. “So explain it to me.”
He puffs out his chest. “You don’t deserve an explanation. Eight years ago? Yeah, I would have spilled my bleeding heart out, telling you how my stupid ass fell for some bitch’s manipulations because I was fucked up over Lily almost dying in my arms and then running away.” He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “Eight years ago, I would have told you how that same stupid bitch snuck into my bed when I was asleep and took a few pictures.” He pauses, his eyes swirling with hurt. “But today? Today you don’t deserve shit.”
I swallow, his words shooting through my skin like bullets and burrowing into the holes they carved out.
“I get that I let you down. That you’re pissed off at me. That you’ve held on to a grudge for all the ways I’ve fucked up. And I’m sorry for that. No one knows more than I do about how I wasn’t the man I needed to be back then.” He runs his hand through his dark hair again. “I’ve spent years atoning for my mistakes. Growing and learning and working every fucking day to try and be a better man.” He gulps down his beer. “But you were my friend first. And I needed you, too.”
“I didn’t know,” I say, my mind whirling.
His jaw tics. “You didn’t want to know.”
My stomach rolls as I think back to eight years ago. To how I became enamored with Lee. How every time I drove her to visit him in college, I fell a little bit more and let the resentment for Chase grow until it wedged between us. How I’d see them love each other so hard it hurt to watch and I’d dream of having her love me the same.
It’s possible I let my infatuation with her affect our friendship long before he messed things up himself.
A tsunami hits, clarity washing over me like icy water, my chest pulling tight as I stare at him. “I don’t…I don’t know what to say.”
“Say the truth. That you’ve blamed me for everything for eight years, not realizing that you were being an asshole.”
My brows rise and I stumble back, dropping into the lounge chair behind me, my fingers tangling in my chain. “Well, shit.”
Chase’s lip twitches.
He rolls his head back, staring at the sky, and I’m stunned into silence. My mind flips around, looping a complete one-eighty, leaving me nauseous from the spin. All of my anger toward him was because he didn’t reach out, didn’t try to fix something that, turns out, he wasn’t solely responsible for breaking.
“Are you still in love with her?” he asks, still gazing at the stars.
My stomach drops to the floor, my mind picturing Blakely. But then I realize he’s asking about Lee. His Goldi.
“No.” I swallow.
“Good.” He nods, sucking on his teeth. “Then, we’ll be okay.”
My brow rises. “Just like that?”
He walks over, sitting down next to me. “Life is too short to hold on to grudges.” He sighs. “But you fucking hurt me.”
I glance down, watching the condensation drip down the neck of my bottle. “Yeah, well, you hurt me too, man.”
“Yeah. I know.” He tilts his beer toward me. I hesitate before bringing mine over, clinking it against his.
The conversation doesn’t take away the years of resentment between us. But it’s a start.
My phone rings as I’m leaving my mom’s place. It’s been nice, having so much time to relax and reconnect with her and everyone else.
I’ve been roped into every Friday night dinner and Saturday brunch for the past five weeks, and while the camaraderie of friends helps ease the ache of missing Blakely, it doesn’t make it disappear.
But I’ve realized in her absence that neither of us were in a healthy place for a relationship. I was an enabler, having her use me as therapy, instead of supporting her while she found tangible solutions. And in return, she allowed me to sink into the role of a hero, as if being there whenever she needed would make up for the fact I wasn’t there for my dad.
A toxic cycle, where one hand washes the other, but both of us never quite get clean.
I’ve tried like hell to avoid going online and searching her name, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t.
Ironically, that’s been the only thing that has brought me clarity through the past month. Allowed me to look at our relationship from a different angle and see how, sometimes, no matter how hard you love someone, they just aren’t in a place to receive it.
I’ve watched that video of Blakely, tearfully saying goodbye to her fans, a thousand times, the sewn together pieces of my heart fraying as her beautiful face crumples as she finally shows her truth. Pride fills my chest, followed closely by grief, because I wasn’t what she needed to make that final step. Part of me wonders if it was my absence that finally helped her start to heal.
I don’t look at the missed call until I get home, my brow furrowing as I realize it was Becca. Odd, since I’m planning to see her in less than an hour for dinner.
Pulling up her name, I press call.
“Hey, what’s up, Becs?”
“Jackson Rhoades, you mother fucker .”
I roll my eyes. “What did I do now?”
“I had the most interestin’ conversation ten minutes ago, with the most interestin’ woman.”
My stomach flips, a tingle of warning shooting through my middle. “Oh? And this is my fault…how?”
“Because she was lookin’ for you .”
My muscles freeze, my hand halfway through my hair. “Who?”
“A pretty young thing. Blakely somethin’ or other. Showed up at my school in a bright blue sports car, askin’ where she could find herself some Jackson.”
My heart slams against my ribs, my head growing dizzy from how fast my world spins.
She’s here.
I try to swallow around the sudden dryness of my mouth. “What did you tell her?”
“I told her to come to dinner, of course.”
My breath sputters. “You what ?”
“Oh, was I not supposed to do that?”
“Jesus Christ, Becca, you can never just stay out of it.”
“Well, maybe if you had told me anything about her, I wouldn’t have had to resort to such drastic measures! Anyway, she’s sittin’ pretty right here in her car, waitin’ to follow me and Eli on over. I just thought I’d give you a heads-up. Let you get your shit together.”
My jaw clenches as I hang up on her, frustration burning a hole through me as I pace back and forth, contemplating not showing up at all.
But I know that won’t solve any problems, and despite my brain telling me that nothing she can say will make a difference, there’s a rope attached to my soul that’s being tugged, the other half still tethered to her.
Besides, if I don’t go, I can’t demand the answers that I deserve.
So, with a deep breath, I pick up my keys and head to dinner.
Pulling into the driveway, my eyes glance around, my heart in my throat as I check for Eli’s Jeep or a bright blue sports car.
Nothing.
I hustle up to the walkway, not bothering to knock as I open the door and walk in. There’s this urge to talk to Lee, just to have someone with me who knows her and can give their two cents on the situation.
Rushing around the corner, I run into Chase, my shoulder slamming against his.
“ Fuck , goddamn, Jax. Where’s the fire?” He rubs his shoulder.
My chest heaves, trying to catch my breath. “Where’s Lee, Chase? I need to talk to her. It’s important.”
His brows draw in. “She ran to the store to pick up wine. She should be back soon.”
“Shit.” I run my hands through my hair, my nerves ricocheting off my insides at the thought of having to face Blakely.
“What’s wrong?”
Sighing, I lean back, banging the back of my head against the wall. “Blakely’s on her way here.”
His brows raise. “Blakely as in the girl you were fucking around with in California?”
“I wasn’t fucking around.” I glare at him. “But yes.”
He smirks. “So what’s the problem?”
My mouth parts. “The problem is she dropped me at the first sign of trouble.”
He hums. “Oh, kind of like how you did with me?”
“No, I—” My stomach cramps. “This is an entirely different situation.”
“I would hope so. Unless you’ve been in love with me all this time and just haven’t told me.” He grins.
“When did you become the smart-ass in this friendship?”
He shrugs. “Probably when you became the broody prick.”
Sinking down to the floor, I rest my arms on my knees.
He slides down beside me, his head clunking against the wall. “Love sucks sometimes.”
I laugh. “You’re telling me.”
He shakes his head. “Fucking painful.”
The doorbell rings but he doesn’t make a move to go answer. “Life is full of regrets, Jax. Don’t let this be one of them.”
My heart falters. “So, I should what, just forgive her?”
“I didn’t say that.” He shrugs. “Only you know what you can live with.”
“Sage advice,” I snark.
He smiles, dimples popping in his cheeks. “I’m a fucking treasure trove of good advice these days. You’re welcome.”
Smacking my knee before standing up, he walks down the hall.
My mind races, my stomach soaring, then diving to the floor. Reaching up to grab my dad’s dog tags, I close my eyes and pray for some guidance.
And then, I stand up and walk to the front door.