Chapter Eighteen ADAM
Chapter Eighteen
ADAM
Half an hour ago, she was tearing into Logan and Derrick on their weekly security debrief video call, voice sharp enough to draw blood. The investigation is moving too slow, and she sounds close to the breaking point.
Now she’s leaning over a mixing bowl with my mom, heads close together.
The teacher’s cadence still lingers in Mom’s voice. “I always add a little shredded cheddar. It makes it creamier.”
“Can’t wait to try this at home,” Jackie says, absorbing every one of my mom’s instructions. The simple, domestic warmth of it melts my insides. This gentler version of her is still there, though she rarely lets people see it.
I keep bracing myself to spot any flicker of discomfort in her expression since we arrived in Maple Hollow. Hesitation or polite distance. But it never comes. She’s been curious and thoughtful with everyone we have met so far.
Like she belongs anywhere she decides to stand.
I’d be inclined to think that maybe, all this time, the discomfort about our vastly different childhoods had lived only in my head, if it weren’t for the clear picture Blanca painted, so vividly that it still lingers.
“I’ll send you home with some wild rice from the pantry,” Mom says and preemptively holds up her palm before Jackie can argue.
“I can order—”
“No arguments.”
I stand in the doorway, struck by how easily we’ve slid into an alternative version of my life, where somebody carved out all the hurt with surgical precision, and she didn’t get on that plane. It’s a glimpse into what we could’ve had. And it feels too good not to pretend a little longer.
“Smells good in here.”
“Jackie’s about done with the chicken and wild rice casserole,” Mom says.
Jackie shakes her head, smiling at her. “Only followed instructions. It’s been ages since I’ve tried something new.”
“Dibs on the leftovers. Heading out tonight. Theo and the guys are hitting Rusty’s. Haven’t seen them in forever.”
Jackie’s shoulders dip, her smile slipping, then she does that thing I hate, especially when she uses it on me. The mechanical tilt of her lips, the false brightness in her voice.
“That’s cool you still keep in touch. I wouldn’t grab a beer with a single person from back then.” She laughs, thin and brittle. “High school was brutal.”
“These are good people. A bit rough around the edges. But you’ll like them.”
Jackie is not aware I’m pretending we’re living in an alternate timeline. So, I spell it out for her.
“You are coming with me, right?”
My mother, of course, doesn’t miss Jackie’s cheeks color, and she smiles into her chest, as she fusses over a plate. “Gonna take your dad some sausages before he gets all cranky.” She wipes her hands and sweeps out, leaving us alone.
“I don’t want to ruin your night,” Jackie says tentatively. “I can stay in.”
Her uncertainty catches me off guard. It’s so unlike her. We’ve been dangerously close recently, but I can’t help but step into her space once more.
The apron’s tied in a neat bow at her waist. I reach out and grab the end of the fabric, and her back arches toward me. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear,” I murmur. “I want you there.” I tug, and the bow unravels, the apron loosening over her curves. “It will be good for you.”
Her lower lip is trapped under her teeth, so still she looks like she’s not breathing.
“Nobody will leak pictures of you to the media,” I go on, sliding a finger under the strap at her neck. I lift it slowly over her head, freeing her hair to fall in glossy waves across her shoulders. “No headlines. Just us. I promise.”
She holds my gaze. With the smallest nod, she gives me that fragile piece of her I’ve been craving. Another inch of her trust.
Driving Dad’s truck along the dirt road through the forest feels like high school all over again. Like when I took Maggie to prom. I don’t remember much from that night, but for sure I wasn’t nearly this nervous.
Jackie sits quietly next to me, drumming her fingers against her thighs, denim stretched over perfect curves.
When she walked out the door, I took my time to appreciate her ass in those pants.
Now, seeing her agitation, I can barely resist the urge to reach across the cab, thread my fingers through hers, and comfort her.
“Do I look OK?” she asks at last, her voice small, uncertain. “I want to blend in.”
I flick a glance her way, tracing her from head to toe, before settling my focus back on the road. “That’d be impossible.”
Her brows pull together. “Why? I tried to keep it simple.”
“You know you’re gorgeous.” My grip tightens on the steering wheel. “No matter what you wear. And this look?” I exhale. “This could get you lots of free shots.”
Silence stretches, carrying everything I can’t say. I check on her without turning fully and catch her turning toward the window, gazing into the darkening forest. But not before I see it. The quick bite of her lower lip, tucking her hair behind her ear to hide a smile she can’t suppress.
“Could say the same about you,” she says teasingly, pointing at my shirt and worn denims. “Your suits are nice and all, but this fit? Any woman would buy you a drink just for how your ass looks in those jeans.”
I bark out a laugh, the tension easing. She relaxes back into her seat, a small smirk settling at the corners of her mouth.
Inside, the bar reeks of fried food and beer, the air buzzing with the thrum of conversation and the clatter of glasses.
A couple of guards in plain clothes sit at the table near the exit, trying their best to blend in.
Even if the place is full, in a town this small, newcomers can’t go unnoticed, but I gave Rusty a heads-up, and nobody’s giving them trouble.
And then I spot them. Laughter spilling out of our booth in the corner, all my old friends crammed together, drinks in hand.
Theo spots me first and hollers, slamming his beer down on the table. “The runaway is here.”
“Still not a fan of working at your garage, Theo, get over it,” I shoot back.
He waves his hand dismissively. “Fine, keep your fancy job.”
My hand finds the small of Jackie’s back, giving her a gentle push forward. “This is … my friend. Jackie.” That was smooth. “Carter’s sister.”
A chorus of hellos and welcomes rises from the table, and she shyly waves at them. “Nice to meet you all.”
I let her slide in beside Mell, but I refrain from taking the narrow spot at the end. I’d enjoy every bit of the light pressure of her body against my side. But distance is safer, even if it doesn’t feel like it.
Instead, I take the lone chair pulled up to the side.
Conversation sparks back up, easy and familiar.
At first, Jackie’s posture is rigid, shoulders squared like she is bracing for questions.
But it’s all small-town gossip: whose cousin got engaged, whose brother spent the night in the drunk tank, the usual.
Slowly, she eases back, curiosity lighting her features as she listens.
We’re laughing over one of Luke’s stories when Maggie swings by. I’m surprised she still works here. She leans low to take my order, cleavage spilling out of the tight T-shirt.
I shift back to put some space between us. “A ginger ale,” I say, then cover Jackie’s hand with mine. “What are you in the mood for?”
Her gaze slides from Maggie to my hand, then her lips twitch, a glimpse of mischief flashing across her expression. “I don’t think that’s on the menu,” she says, batting her eyelashes theatrically, before glancing at Maggie, now standing stiffly. “Whatever local IPA you have.”
“Can’t hold your liquor anymore, old man?” Luke tuts at me as we place our food order.
I laugh it off, but don’t feel like explaining. I’ve given my friends a curated version of my life in New York. I’ll leave it at that for now.
Jackie doesn’t miss a beat. “He’s the designated driver.” Then she leans over the table and whispers. “I’m a menace to society on the road.”
They all burst out laughing.
“Oh, it sounds familiar”, Ethan laughs, until his girlfriend swats his shoulder.
“I ended up in the ditch once,” Mell snaps. “When are you going to let it go?”
“Your dad framed the newspaper article in his office,” I tease, and the table howls.
In the ruckus, Jackie elbows her phone off the edge, and she bends down quickly to pick it up. Before I think, my hand presses against the table corner to keep her from bumping her head.
“Well, we love them either way, right?” Ethan says and raises a knowing brow.
She resurfaces, smiling widely at him, not getting the joke. One of her real smiles, the kind I haven’t seen in years.
And in a blink, I see it again. My Jackie, breaking through. The more time we spend together, the more she slips out in glimpses. And every time it feels like something precious is handed back to me.
“Food’s here, guys,” Maggie calls over the music, now loud enough that some people drift to the dance floor.
I forgot to tell her to skip the pickled salad, but before I can send it back, Jackie slides the bowl across the table and swaps it with her basket of French fries. Wordless, natural, like back when we’d sneak out for greasy burgers on the corner of my block.
Ethan clocks the exchange and looks pointedly at me, but doesn’t say anything, only shakes his head, smiling.
Let him think what he wants.
Jackie’s wings look too good to resist, so I snag one, grinning at her scowl.
“Just making sure it’s not poisoned. You can never be too careful.” It comes out before I realize.
The line of her jaw drops, her whole body tensing as it did at the engagement dinner. “Is this your go-to line nowadays?” The bitterness in her voice is hard to miss.
“No.” I cup her wrist, feeling like an asshole. “I’m sorry. That night at dinner…I did it on purpose.” The memory makes me cringe with embarrassment.
Her nails drum an impatient rhythm on the wooden table. “Why?”
Her perfume winds around me, pulling me closer. My confession is low. “To rile you. But I shouldn’t have. Some things are meant to stay ours.”